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The morning broke with a clean blue, an idyllic summer day that wouldn't allow threats in the air. Merlin was leaning on the window in Arthur's chambers, watching the flurry of people in the castle courtyard, most of whom were in a rush to finalize last minute preparations for the tournament. Today was either the perfect summer day or going to end with his tunic sticking to his back and his hair damp from sweat. Merlin glanced away from the window, watching Arthur pace with his shirt in his hand instead of on. Chatter from the courtyard filtered in with the sunshine, the pre-tournament excitement dying on the windowsill. The moment the crown prince walked out the door, he'd be flawlessly calm as always. For now, he was pacing out unusual pre-tournament nerves.
It was going to be a blistering day.
"Sire, you may need your shirt on for the tournament."
Arthur stopped, but the insult lingering in his eyes died on his lips. He stood in the center of the room, shirt hanging from his hand, eyes focused past Merlin. Merlin glanced over his shoulder, finding nothing but the harsh blue sky.
"Get your shirt on, Arthur, and let's get you down to the tent. You’ll spread those nerves of yours to me."
Arthur balled his tunic up and chucked it at Merlin's face.
"You're always skittish around a tournament, maybe your cowardice is spreading."
Merlin calmly smoothed out the shirt, gesturing for Arthur to raise his arms.
"I would have thought the Crown Prince of Camelot would be above such influences from a lowly manservant."
Arthur never apologized. But Merlin had learned to read the flashes of regret in the prince's eyes. He yanked down the shirt and pushed Arthur towards the door.
—
Arthur calmed a little, working their way down to the tents set up around the arena. The bustle and excitement had Merlin gritting his teeth. He had less than a reason to be nervous about this particular tournament. There were no last minute entries or unknown knights. And yet both he and Arthur seemed to suffering from a bad case of nerves. Though the prince's shoulders were relaxed, and he was smiling to the people they passed.
An act that dropped the second they set foot in Arthur's tent. Instead of standing patiently and waiting for Merlin to put his armor on, he was rooting through things trying to hurry the process. And perfecting the art of being a royal prat.
"I'm the crown prince and I'm going to be late."
Merlin rolled his eyes. "Oh, all right, Arthur put that down. Your gauntlets aren't in there."
"Well maybe if someone put them where they belong."
"That's not where they belong!"
When Arthur's armor was finally on and properly adjusted, he started tapping his foot, eyes impatiently following Merlin's movements. Merlin batted Arthur's hand away from where he was attempting to adjust his vambrace.
"It's not like you to be so nervous," Merlin said quietly as he moved through checking Arthur's armor.
"I am not nervous, Merlin."
Arthur hadn't quite filled his voice with enough arrogance to cover up his real state of mind.
Merlin settled a hand on Arthur's shoulder. "You'll be brilliant, you always are."
For one, shining moment Arthur's eyes flooded with relief. And then he snapped his shoulders back, displacing Merlin's hand.
"Of course I will."
There had been something else in Arthur's eyes, gone too fast for Merlin to grasp.
Merlin paused in the tent after Arthur left for the arena. The summer heat was warming it, the morning's pleasant cool fading fast. Merlin's shirt was already starting to stick to his back. The quiet of the tent rang in his ears.
It did not differ from any other tournament, and yet Merlin's palms were sweaty and his heart was racing. He calmed himself, taking deep breaths and resisting the urge to bury his nose in something of Arthur's. He lingered, taking far too long to put himself together enough he wasn't accidentally going to bring a tent pole down on someone's head just because they surprised him going round a corner.
It was a shining summer day, like all the dozens of others when nothing bad had happened to Arthur.
Which was, of course, ignoring all the dozens of clear and beautiful summer days when someone had tried to kill Arthur. Or enchant him. Or enchant someone to kill him.
Merlin climbed the stands, slotting himself in next to Gwen and ignoring the eyebrow Gaius was giving him. The match was already well underway. Merlin stared at the other knight, struggling to remember his name and where he was from.
Everything was grating on him. Gwen's running commentary of gasps every time Arthur blocked a heavy blow, the loud cheers of the man in front of him, the hard wood of the stands digging into his clothes, the sun in his eyes. Even the cloudless sky was annoying. A collective gasp from the crowd drew Merlin's attention back to the match.
Arthur stumbled.
It took a long second for Merlin's brain to catch up. He blinked, watching movements as if through water. He'd slowed time down without intending to.
Aeron.
The tip of Sir Aeron's blade was approaching Arthur's neck. Merlin blinked again, eyes locked on the sword, guiding it just a few inches to the right. The knight's swing missed Arthur's neck.
Arthur's face turned, searching the stands. His eyes found Merlin's. The gaze held for a moment, and then time returned to pace with blinding fury, swords clanging and chain metal crashing again.
Merlin was as exhausted as Arthur by the end. Watching every movement, every twitch. Blades too near to Arthur, Arthur nearly not getting his shield up in time. All it took was one mistake, one second Merlin missed and the unthinkable would become bleeding reality. His shoulders relaxed as Arthur stood over the knight, holding a blade to his throat until Sir Aeron yielded.
Essetir. Sir Aeron was from Essetir. Uther had insisted he be allowed to take part when the request had been made. Months ago.
There was something wrong. Sir Aeron was holding his blade at an odd angle as he got up. Merlin's blood went cold.
"Arthur!"
Arthur's gaze snapped to Merlin, turning enough the movement caught the corner of his eye. He got his shield up just in time to block Aeron's sword. The rest of the knights flooded into the arena, making quick work of restraining the errant knight. Arthur let out what even Merlin could see was a shaky breath.
The arena was a swirl of red cloaks, knights carting the foul-player to the dungeons while Uther was attempting to calm the crowd. A task that might be easier if he was less furious about the whole matter himself.
Merlin picked out the red of Arthur's cloak, heading for his tent.
Even with the throng of people in the stands, Merlin beat Arthur back to his tent. His own heartbeat filled the quiet. This was ridiculous. Arthur nearly died every other week. Monsters in the water. Questing beasts. Errant knights with snake shields. Whatever fresh hell Morgana had dreamed up this time. Merlin rubbed the back of his neck.
But that was it, wasn't it? This wasn't about today. This was every time Merlin's heart had choked off his ability to breathe, every time he was scrambling to save Arthur. Every near brush, death reaching out to kiss the once and future king.
Arthur brushed through the tent flap, running a shaking hand down his face. He dropped his gauntlets to the ground.
"Arthur."
He looked up and smiled.
Merlin threw his arms around Arthur's neck before he fully processed what he was doing. He was alive. He was fine. Merlin could smell the sweat, and that scent that was uniquely Arthur. Surrounding him and thrumming through his veins, like it did every day. Merlin realize how close he was to Arthur, he could feel Arthur's gloved hands resting heavy on Merlin's back.
He kissed him. Merlin brought his hands up to Arthur's face and kissed him. Merlin's hands were shaking against Arthur's cheeks. He slipped one hand down to Arthur's throat, feeling Arthur's pulse beating against his fingertips.
Arthur froze. Merlin's sense started to come back enough he pulled back. Arthur's arms snapped around him, dragged him back flush to the chain mail and metal of Arthur's armor. His lips came back to Merlin's, hard and desperate, his hand up to Merlin's hair, holding him in place.
Merlin's hands gripped at the edge of the pauldron, fingers brushing the back of Arthur's neck, pulling himself as close to Arthur as the armor would allow. Arthur broke the kiss, resting his forehead against Merlin's. Merlin tried to tilt his head again, searching for the comfort of Arthur's lips. Arthur leaned back.
"Merlin," Arthur whispered hoarsely as he wiped away tears Merlin hadn't realized were there, "Merlin, it's all right. I'm all right."
"I know," Merlin mumbled, kissing Arthur again. "This time."
Arthur pulled back, Merlin chasing until Arthur's hand came up to his shoulders. His fingers brushed back and forth over the fabric of Merlin's shirt.
"Every time," he said, a quiet fury and a promise in his eyes not even fate itself would dare touch.
"You can't promise that."
Arthur cupped Merlin's face, running his thumb along Merlin's cheekbone. "I'm sorry you have to worry."
"Nah, I don't worry. There are a lot of princes around," Merlin said, tears still shining in his eyes.
"So does this mean you’re ready to tell me about your magic?"
Merlin's blood went cold again, his skin sweating and the world threatening to collapse. Arthur drew a glove off to brush his knuckles across Merlin's cheekbone.
"You're not nearly as subtle as you think, Merlin."
Merlin swallowed, his hands trying to find something to grip.
"I see when your eyes turn gold," Arthur said, " I saw them from the arena."
Merlin's hands caught on the sword belt, the only thing keeping him from fainting. The entire world was spinning. Arthur covered his hands, stroking his thumbs along them.
"Get me out of this armor." The command was gentle.
The heat in the tent was stifling as Merlin removed Arthur's armor, shaking hands stacking the warm metal. Arthur knew. Arthur had known for some time. Merlin's entire world had shifted and Merlin couldn't quite get his feet underneath himself. He tripped over nothing, Arthur grabbing his arm to steady him.
"How long have you known?"
“I remember my sword flying through the air by itself to kill the questing beast.”
Merlin wasn't sure if he wanted to crumble into Arthur's arms in relief or smack the smug grin right off the crown prince's face.
Arthur continued grinning, his eyes shinning. Merlin laughed. He couldn't help it. Or the fact it might have sounded like a sob. Arthur gathered him back into his arms, hiding his face in Merlin's neck. "You kissed me."
"My deepest apologies sire, would you rather continue with the pining?"
Arthur chuckled, raising his head to find Merlin's lips. All the swirling emotions faded away. Nothing in Merlin's life had every felt so right as Arthur's mouth. He curled his hands tight into the back of Arthur's tunic.
—
Merlin was standing at the open window, right at the perfect time of day the next morning. Early enough to feel the thrill of the new day, late enough for the summer sun to be heating the stone sill.
"Doesn't it remind you of waking up as a child, knowing the whole day stretched ahead of you in all its limitless glory?"
Arthur didn’t glance up from his desk.
"I believe you have duties to attend to."
Merlin grinned to himself, turning back and settling against the window frame as a brisk bit of wind swirled across Arthur's desk, scattering papers.
"Merlin!"
"Yes, my lord?"
Merlin continued staring out the window. Papers rustled behind him.
"You know, you so rarely get these quiet mornings. You should enjoy them."
Arthur joined him at the window, grumbling something about his father being right about magic. He settled an arm around Merlin's waist, wisps of clouds floating by. Birds chirped on the branches across the courtyard.
"Merlin."
"Yes, sire?"
Merlin moved his head from Arthur's shoulder, finding Arthur staring at Merlin's arm, wrapped around Arthur and his hand digging into Arthur's ribs.
"Are you intentionally trying to bruise me further?"
"Just the natural stress of putting up with you, never know when you're going to run off and try to die again."
Arthur turned his head and kissed Merlin's temple.
"Did Aeron admit to being an assassin?" Merlin asked.
"Swiftly. I knew there was something off with that pretender."
"He wasn't a knight?"
"No true knight would have crumbled so easily."
"Cenred?"
Arthur tightened his arm around Merlin. "We'll figure it out."
Merlin's throat felt tight, he tried to swallow. Forcing a smile back on his face, he tried to push any anxiety-inducing thoughts back to their box.
"But in the meantime, it's a beautiful morning."
"Wonderful, may I return to my work now?"
It had gone about as far it could and still be playful. Merlin's smiled faded.
"Of course."
Arthur's face softened at something in Merlin's voice.
"I do appreciate the beauty in front of me," he said, quiet and gentle, raising a hand to brush the side of Merlin's face.
Arthur was going to have stop openly looking at him like that if Merlin's knees would threaten to cease holding him upright every time. And he'd thought the half-caught glances in the past had an embarrassing amount of power over him.
Arthur seemed to know, wrapping his arm tighter around Merlin, and kissing his forehead. Merlin swallowed.
"A deep, deep appreciation, even if it does annoy me with its inane rambles and utter ineptitude."
Merlin let out a shaky laugh.
Arthur traced his fingers along the edge of Merlin's face, the ghosts of words to come around his lips.
That it was indeed too soon for undying love confessions was Merlin's last conscious thought as Arthur started kissing him.
Chasing Arthur's lips every time he pulled away was an embarrassing habit he really should do something about.
"All right, enough of this. I have work to do and so do you." Arthur was still smiling down at him like only Merlin existed. Merlin reluctantly let go of Arthur.
"If you would kindly put the papers back on my desk."
Merlin started backing towards the door and grinned. "Nah, you need the exercise."
He ducked out the door before Arthur could find something to throw at his head.
"Merlin!"
It rang down the corridor after him, and he couldn't keep the stupid grin off his face.