Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Arthur couldn’t stop thinking about it.

He was meant to be listening to the pleas of this woman, whose village had been suddenly overrun with a nasty illness of some sort, and who evidently felt the need to describe it in great detail—right down to the colour of the boils—but Arthur’s mind was elsewhere. It commonly was when he was forced to sit in his hard-seated throne, with nothing but the petty requests of the citizens buzzing in his ears.

They weren’t all petty, of course. Arthur did care for his people, and there was the occasional bandit raid or harvest miscalculation that needed stricter attention, but in this case Arthur would probably end up simply sending Gaius. The only thing keeping Arthur from cutting off this woman now was the fact that it gave him a chance to let his mind wander.

Because he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Arthur dared to let his gaze drift away from the woman before him and over the faces of the court. One of them was a liar, Arthur was sure of it. At first he had thought perhaps it was a knight, or a commoner, but more likely it was one of the people here, one of his closest advisors, someone on his council.

One of them was a sorcerer.

A little ways behind him, Merlin cleared his throat, and Arthur blinked, bringing his attention back to the pleading woman. Apparently she had finished speaking.

“I see,” Arthur said. “One of the guards will escort you to the court physician. Tell him everything you’ve told me and he will go to your village as soon as he’s found a treatment.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” she said, rising to her feet. One of the guards by the door followed her out and another one quickly stepped up to take his place.

“Is that the last of them?” Arthur muttered to Gwen beside him.

“I believe so.”

Arthur heaved a sigh of relief and pushed himself up from his chair, the momentum taking him down the short stairs and halfway through the hall. Gwen was at his side in a moment, taking his hand and finishing the exit with him. Merlin’s light, hurried footsteps followed after them.

“Something on your mind, sire?” Merlin asked after they’d cleared the main corridors and were nearing the royal rooms.

Arthur fought the urge to roll his eyes. It really wasn’t very kingly behaviour. “Nothing that can’t wait until we’re in the privacy of my rooms, Merlin.”

“Ah. That sort of something.”

Gwen snickered.

Arthur nearly snapped his neck from whipping his head around so fast, only to be met with Merlin’s insolent smirk. “Not that sort of something, Merlin. Don’t you have armour to be polishing?”

Merlin either didn’t believe it or didn’t fall for it. Or he was just that insufferably impertinent, because even throughout his next words the devious smile never left his face.

“If not that, then what, sire?”

“Something much more serious.” Arthur turned forward again, rolling his tense shoulders. “And not to be spoken of where someone might hear.”

“Oh. Hmm.”

Arthur sighed. He could practically hear the wheels turning in Merlin’s head as he no doubt tried to puzzle it out before Arthur could even tell him.

“I’ll join you in a moment, Arthur,” Gwen said, letting go of his hand when they reached her chambers. “Let me change into something a bit less regal. I assume if this matter is troubling, you do want my company as well?”

Arthur hesitated only three seconds, but in those three seconds his mind raced. It was true he could trust Gwen, as his queen and confidant, but a matter such as this, a matter of treason and sorcery, Arthur would usually talk to solely Merlin first. Only after consulting his lover would he take it to Gwen.

“Yes,” Arthur said. “I think your thoughts on the subject would prove enlightening as always.”

Gwen smiled. “Then I shall change into my enlightening clothes.”

“Sire!” Merlin called from down the corridor where he’d gone ahead. “Come on! You have to tell me that thing!”

Arthur groaned as Gwen slipped into her room. Gods forbid Merlin ever have a secret of his own to keep. It seemed he was only barely capable of keeping Arthur’s.

“Merlin, you clotpole!”

“That’s my word!”

“And it suits you perfectly,” Arthur muttered.

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

There was something going on with Arthur, and Merlin could only guess as to what it was. It was hardly rare for Arthur’s mind to drift elsewhere in the middle of holding court, but for his mind to be so thoroughly preoccupied that he didn’t notice when someone stopped speaking? Whatever it was, it had to be important.

Merlin wanted to know.

So of course, because Arthur was an insufferable prat, after Merlin undressed him and put him into something more comfortable, Arthur ordered him to fetch dinner from the kitchen. Merlin gave him his best scowl but slinked off to get their meals.

Gwen was in Arthur’s room when Merlin returned, and she hastened to help Merlin with the precariously held plates before the one perched on his elbow fell to the floor. He smiled gratefully at her before setting down Arthur’s food and taking his own seat across from the queen.

“Alright, now that Merlin’s back, what’s all this about, Arthur?” Gwen asked.

Seeing that they already had goblets of wine in front of them, Merlin reached forward to fill a cup of his own. No one had gone to the trouble of pouring him wine, he noticed.

“I suppose I’d better start at the beginning.”

“That’s generally the best place to start,” Merlin said.

“On the last hunt, I had a dream,” Arthur continued, ignoring Merlin. “Well, it may have been a dream. I’m not entirely sure, but I woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of someone calling my name.”

Merlin frowned as he set the jug of wine back on table. He was usually a very light sleeper, at least when it came to sleeping out in the open. How had Arthur heard this and not him? What if it had been an enemy?

“There was a man in the forest. A druid, or so he claimed.”

“You spoke to a druid?” Gwen interrupted.

Arthur nodded. “I did. After what happened with your brother, and the boy that possessed him, I made a promise that things would change. Otherwise I probably would have threatened this druid without a second thought. I did raise my sword, but only as a precaution.”

Merlin smiled into his cup, feeling proud that Arthur had remembered his promise.

“And what did this druid tell you?” Gwen asked.

“He told me about Emrys.”

Merlin choked on his wine. Arthur hadn’t just said that, had he? Merlin’s name? Not just his name, but his name?

Merlin tried to force his heart to a normal beat, and keep his expression a mixture of calm yet interested. But this was bad. This was really bad. He already felt rotten for lying to Arthur about who and what he was, could barely say the words “I love you” without feeling a twist in his gut, but this...For Arthur to know and not know...It was torture.

“And, uh, who’s Emrys?” Merlin asked. It was odd saying his own name like that. He felt as though he’d just said a spell right in front of his two closest friends.

“A sorcerer,” Arthur said. He looked straight at Merlin when he spoke, and Merlin fought every urge telling him to look away. “The most powerful sorcerer in all of Albion apparently.”

“You talked to a druid about a sorcerer. In the forest. At night.”

“I told you, it could have been a dream. Though why my head would pluck out a name I’ve never heard before and give it such importance, I’ve no idea. It’s something.”

Merlin put down his goblet and picked up his fork, moving onto his food with feigned disinterest. “Alright. Go on.”

“He said Emrys has been protecting me, ever since I was still a prince. That he’s saved my life a thousand times over and done remarkable things for Camelot.”

Merlin wouldn’t say a thousand times; maybe more in the low hundreds. And it certainly didn’t feel like the things he’d done for Camelot were remarkable. Most of the time it made him feel disgusted with himself, actually.

Arthur turned to Gwen now, lowering his voice to nearly a whisper. “He said Emrys and I share a destiny. That together we’ll bring about an age of peace. That’s what I’ve always wanted, Guinevere. To unite the kingdoms of Albion and stop all the bloodshed.”

“I know, Arthur, but...dream or not, it does seem a bit strange,” Gwen said. “A mysterious sorcerer and destinies? How do you know you can trust this druid? What if he was lying or trying to manipulate you?”

“That was the first thing I thought of. But there’s been countless incidents that just don’t make sense otherwise. I’ve usually attributed it to luck; like a sudden tree branch falling on a bandit, or a gust of wind covering horse tracks. But one thing has always stuck with me, has plagued me and driven me nearly mad not being able to understand it.”

Merlin’s breath caught in his throat, and he suddenly couldn’t swallow. “What’s that?”

Arthur turned back to Merlin. “Years ago, when I went to get that flower for you. You risked your life drinking poison for me and needed a cure, remember?”

“Yes.”

“There was a light that guided me out of the cave. It was obviously magic, but it hadn’t felt like bad magic. That certainly can’t be explained any other way. If that was Emrys helping me even then, this druid couldn’t have been lying.” Arthur stopped, taking a deep breath. “I know my father was wrong about many things. If the dangers of sorcery was one such instance, if there are good sorcerers out there, imagine all the wrong that’s been done. It’d be like the boy that possessed Elyan all over again, but increased by a thousand.”

Merlin tread carefully. “And you’ve decided to change your view of magic? Just like that?”

Arthur shook his head. “No, not just like that. I’ve thought about it. I’ve thought about it until I can’t think about it any longer. It’s been in the forefront of my mind every waking moment of the day, going over my life with the knowledge that Emrys has been a part of it. I owe this man my entire kingdom.”

Merlin chuckled. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”

“Why not? Camelot would be nothing without him. I’d be dead. You’d be dead.”

Merlin fought back another laugh. He had nothing to say, probably should have kept his mouth shut to begin with, so he went back to eating his meal.

“I’ve nearly come to a conclusion,” Arthur continued. “I want to believe that magic can be used for good, because imagine what it could do for the kingdom. But I do still have my doubts. Which is why I want to meet him.”

Merlin choked on his chicken.

“Why haven’t you?” Gwen asked.

“That was the second thing I asked the druid,” Arthur said. “He told me Emrys has kept his identity secret so he can keep protecting me. That he’s someone close to me. I asked who he was and the druid just...just looked at me funny and asked who I wanted it to be.” Arthur’s eyes glanced at Merlin and Merlin quickly looked away.

“Who did you say?” Gwen nudged.

“No one. Couldn’t think of anyone I’d want to be a secret sorcerer. Still, I can’t understand...” Arthur trailed off, rubbing the pad of his forefinger over the table thoughtfully.

“Can’t understand what?” Merlin pressed.

“Why wouldn’t he want to come forward and claim some sort of recognition?”

“Magic is outlawed,” Gwen pointed out.

“The only thing he’d be claiming is the right to have his head chopped off,” Merlin added.

“I wouldn’t do that. I would just like to thank him and ask why he did it. To learn more about the nature of sorcery and if it’s all bad or not.”

Merlin wasn’t sure what was more surprising—Arthur wanting to thank him or Arthur wanting to learn about sorcery. When had their last hunt been again? How long had Arthur been pondering this? He had to have given it a fair amount of thought if he was being so candid voicing his opinions now. For a whole life’s worth of beliefs to be undone just because he’d found out his neck was saved a few times was a bit hard for Merlin to come to terms with.

It seemed it was for Gwen as well. “Arthur. Are you sure? Your father—”

“Is not me,” Arthur declared firmly. “I’ve seen him burn people at the stake just for being suspected of sorcery. You yourself were once kept in the dungeons because of something as small as a poultice, and what harm did that do anyone? My father was so often blinded by hatred that he left no room for argument. I’m not saying that there aren’t evil sorcerers, I’m simply saying that perhaps some things should be reconsidered.”

Merlin wanted to kiss him. Even with the tension strung along his insides from being nearly found out, Merlin was filled with joy at hearing Arthur finally say such words. He bit his cheeks to keep from smiling.

Arthur, however, knew him too well. He poked Merlin’s shoulder, leering at him with amusement in his eyes. “What are you grinning about, then?”

Merlin huffed out a laugh. “You’re a great king, Arthur. I always knew you’d be a better ruler than your father.”

Arthur’s lips spread in a grin as well, and he curled his fingers over Merlin’s hand on the table. “Thank you, Merlin.”

Merlin’s breath came a little quicker, but he dared to speak what was on his mind anyways. “And I’m not the only one who thinks so. Maybe this Emrys doesn’t do it for recognition, but because he cares for you as well.”

“He might be disappointed to learn that I care for someone else.”

“Not like that. There are plenty of people who believed you’d be a good king, that you’d see the wrong your father did and would strive to change things. It doesn’t surprise me that the druids think you have a destiny to bring about peace. Wanting to see that hopeful future seems as good a reason as any to help you. Not for gold or recognition, but for the sake of the kingdom. For you.”

Arthur’s brow furrowed with thought as he nodded. “It makes sense. So many sorcerers have attacked Camelot wanting to bring magic back forcefully, my sister included. It’s almost relieving to know that one was intelligent enough to see that such methods wouldn’t work.”

Merlin almost laughed again. Arthur had no idea he’d just called him intelligent.

Then Merlin looked at Gwen, and all thoughts of laughing quickly disappeared. She was staring at him intently, as though she were trying to fit pieces of a puzzle together. Merlin didn’t know if he should play the fool and smile at her or just go back to his meal.

“Eat, Arthur, you haven’t touched your food once,” Merlin chided. “I didn’t go all the way to the kitchen for nothing.”

Arthur sighed and released Merlin’s hand to begin eating. “Still,” Arthur said, “I would like to meet him. If not to recognise him, at least for him to tell me what he can of magic. I also imagine he’d be helpful in defeating Morgana.”

“I don’t think he’d want to meet you.”

Both Merlin and Arthur froze, staring at Gwen with matching looks of incredulity.

“Why not?” Arthur asked.

“As I said before, magic is outlawed. You would be meeting with a traitor, committing treason—”

“I’m the king, I can’t commit treason against myself.”

“I simply think you ought to consider the position it might place him in. He has deceived numerous people, has worked in the shadows for years, and for you to suddenly single him out would bring him into the light. I don’t suggest you make any hasty decisions, but perhaps...perhaps you ought to think about changing the law before seeking him out.”

It was as if Merlin’s limbs had locked up. How could Gwen know? How could she so accurately empathise with him? It would be overwhelming if all his deeds were suddenly brought to light—it was currently making him feel like one of Gaius’s specimens, and he wanted to remain hidden just a while longer for more than one reason. But Gwen couldn’t possibly know. He wasn’t that transparent, was he?

“You think I should lift the ban on magic before speaking to him?” Arthur asked, clarifying.

Gwen thinned her lips into a straight line and nodded.

“I wished to speak to him beforehand to help decide whether I should. How am I to make an informed decision without gathering all the facts first?”

“It was only a suggestion, Arthur. You asked me here for my thoughts and those are my thoughts. Whatever you do is up to you. Just keep in mind that Emrys may prove as elusive as ever.”

Arthur’s brow furrowed again, and he frowned. Merlin kept his eyes away from Gwen, but he could feel her calculating stare as though it was burning a hole in his forehead.

“What do you think, Merlin?”

Merlin nearly jumped when Arthur turned to him so suddenly. His heart raced as he thought of what he could possibly say to mask the truth.

I’ve wanted to tell you forever, he thought. I want you to know me, but you’ll hate me. Because I’ve lied to you. I’ve lain with you, you’ve given me your trust, and I’ve betrayed it. The world could be magic again, but I’m still hiding. Because I’m scared and I don’t want to lose you.

“Oh, well, I don’t know,” Merlin said airily. “Magic wasn’t banned in the kingdom I grew up in, so I’ve never had a problem with sorcery. I wouldn’t mind if it became legal again. As far as Emrys goes, and wanting to meet him, well, you don’t need him to make an informed decision. There are plenty of magical texts still in the library. I’m fairly certain even Gaius has a few, for research purposes and all, you know.”

“You don’t think I should meet him?” Arthur asked, raising a brow.

“I think that if Gwen’s right and he doesn’t want to meet you, if he wants to remain just some silent protector until you lift the ban, then that’s the way to do it. And if he still doesn’t come forward, then at least he’ll have the satisfaction of knowing he was able to help bring magic back.”

“But...Morgana—”

“Most likely wouldn’t want to fight after magic has returned. That has been her end goal after all, hasn’t it?”

“No, it hasn’t. She wants to rule for herself, wants all of Camelot under her command. It isn’t just about magic, but about her thinking the throne is rightfully hers. How am I to have this grand destiny with someone who won’t even show me his face?”

Gwen put a soft hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Arthur, please calm down.”

Arthur huffed and rubbed his eyes tiredly. “I’m just frustrated. The druid said he was close to me. He could be anyone. I only want to talk to him. I owe him so much.”

Merlin felt a bit like he’d been stabbed in the heart. He tried to console himself by thinking that’s how Arthur would feel if he ever found out the truth.

“Alright, that’s enough for one night. You’re just going in circles at this point. Move on to something pleasant, why don’t you?” Merlin chirped, poking Arthur’s face. “No more frowns, huh?”

Arthur sighed, shaking his head, but he was laughing a little. “Merlin, you idiot.”

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

This time, Arthur was thinking of Merlin. The requests and entreaties weren’t quite so dull as an outbreak of illness, so he did have to shift some of his attention to the people before him, but his thoughts flew around constantly in his head.

He still wished very much to find Emrys, and he’d always been the type of man to act quickly instead of waiting around for something to come up, but Gwen did have a point. Emrys had remained hidden for years; he wouldn’t come out of hiding just because Arthur was now aware of his existence. If anything, under the current law, he would be even more alert. And it would still most likely be another month or two before Arthur decided to do anything about changing said law.

However, the topic of recognition had got Arthur thinking. Merlin’s reaction to the unknown sorcerer had seemed...strange. Almost as though he wished Arthur hadn’t brought it up at all and wouldn’t ever again. Arthur knew Merlin could be jealous, but this had seemed different.

And then Arthur had realised: he’d been talking so much of wanting to recognise Emrys for his efforts, that he’d completely forgot about how Merlin might feel.

While true Merlin had never done anything as spectacular as save his life, he’d been at Arthur’s side for years, providing counsel and guidance, friendship, and later, love. Arthur had always felt it a bit unfair that Gwen had the privilege of sitting beside him on a throne. Gwen was wonderful as a queen of course, but Merlin was his rock, his support, his everything. For him to stand off to the side as a simple servant, to be publicly ordered around, must have been a terrible burden he silently suffered daily. And then Arthur had had to go and talk of praising this sorcerer whom he didn’t even know.

That was at least something Arthur could do to busy himself at the moment. He could find a way to somehow recognise Merlin, because Merlin more than deserved it. But what kind of recognition did Merlin even want?

A more worthy title, perhaps? Merlin wasn’t a warrior, and didn’t seem inclined to ever want to be one, so Arthur couldn’t very well train him and knight him. He couldn’t give him a piece of land, because what would Merlin even do with it? And Merlin had made it perfectly clear that he didn’t wish to be royal consort lest it cause Gwen to be regarded differently (for which Lancelot would secretly loathe them for). What the hell could Merlin possibly want?

Today it was Gwen who subtly cleared her throat when Arthur’s thoughts took him too far away. He made himself focus again. But he would think of something.

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

Arthur suddenly stilled the motion of his hips, letting Merlin’s cock simply stay sheathed in place as he sat astride him.

“Are you alright?” Arthur asked.

Merlin’s brow furrowed, but they were already so pushed together that it hardly made a difference in the number of lines across his forehead. “What, why?”

“Your face. It’s almost like you’re in pain.”

Merlin smoothed his features, but it seemed like an effort. “Maybe I’m just trying hard not to come.”

“That’s not your trying-not-to-come face. You bite your lip when you do that.”

“Arthur, I’m fine. Keep going, alright?”

Merlin jerked up a little, startling a gasp out of Arthur. Arthur knew there was something wrong, but he wouldn’t ruin the moment by asking again. He’d get it out of him later. For now he went back to his earlier rhythm, lifting his hips and snapping them downward, ending with a slight roll that had Merlin’s cock pressing up against his prostate.

His own cock was sliding against Merlin’s stomach, leaving a glistening trail of precome that he rubbed into Merlin’s skin with his thumb. Merlin moaned and his hands slid up Arthur’s thighs to squeeze his arse, spreading the cheeks apart as he kept plunging in.

Arthur let his head fall back with a shaky sigh. He never said it aloud, but he loved when Merlin did that to him. He loved when Merlin’s hands touched any part of his body, but it lit a fire in his groin when Merlin grabbed his arse. Merlin knew, obviously, because he knew everything, so it was usually a signal that Merlin himself was about to come. It pushed Arthur a little closer to the edge where Merlin needed him to be.

So Arthur wrapped a hand around his cock and started stroking. Merlin kept kneading his arse, but now he thrust his hips up frantically, pushing as deep as he could into Arthur, hard enough to make Arthur’s blood rush and his breath come quickly.

Merlin spilled first, grunting once and then breathing heavily through plump, parted lips. The sight was beautiful because Merlin was always beautiful—not that Arthur would ever admit it—but it didn’t give Arthur the needed push. That only happened when Merlin moved one of his hands and curled it around Arthur’s, helping stroke Arthur to completion. Arthur erupted over their combined fingers with a low moan, the tense heat between his legs finally too much.

He let Merlin slide out of him and only barely held himself up as he caught his breath. Merlin managed to reach a little ways down the bed and grab one of their tunics to wipe off with, and when he applied the coarse fabric to the cleft of Arthur’s arse, Arthur figured it was probably Merlin’s. None of his own royal clothing was that rough.

When Arthur felt he’d got all the air back in his lungs, he pulled his leg from over Merlin and let his body fall to the bed. He was still half sprawled across Merlin, his head on Merlin’s shoulder, but he knew Merlin didn’t mind. Merlin tossed his dirty tunic onto the floor and wrestled with the duvet until Arthur moved enough for him to pull it over them.

“I’m guessing you don’t want me to dress you for bed?” Merlin said.

Arthur grunted.

“Good, because I don’t want to.”

Arthur snorted in amusement. He ran his hand over Merlin’s chest once before stopping in the centre and placing his palm flat, feeling Merlin’s heartbeat. It was still a bit fast, but slowing.

Merlin had become a lot stronger since he’d come to Camelot, no longer the bony boy that had insulted the prince in the marketplace. Arthur had noticed it before, Merlin’s thicker arms and broader shoulders, his lower abdomen more defined with muscle. He’d noticed the rough skin and the scars, some of which he knew nothing about—Merlin even had a scar on the back of his neck, though how he’d managed to get such an oddly shaped wound in such a strange place was a complete mystery—but Arthur had never really registered it. Sometimes Arthur looked at Merlin and couldn’t believe how much he’d changed.

He tried to think again about what Merlin could want. There had to be something Arthur could give him. But when Arthur raised his gaze to Merlin’s face and saw his eyes closed peacefully, Merlin seemed perfectly content. He seemed fine with the current situation.

Maybe he was a bit like Emrys that way. Merlin had said that Emrys probably just wanted to see Arthur do his best for Albion. Maybe Merlin knew that feeling, because it was similar to what he felt for Arthur. Maybe Merlin really just wanted Arthur’s love and that was enough.

Arthur decided he’d try to put that particular matter out of his head. He’d most likely misinterpreted Merlin’s reaction the previous day. If Merlin had been jealous, or if he’d wanted anything, he wouldn’t hesitate to let Arthur know. He was always straightforward like that.

So Arthur went back to the other thing that was troubling him.

“What do you think about Emrys, Merlin?”

Merlin’s eyes snapped open and Arthur felt his heartbeat pick up beneath his palm. “Seriously? You’re bringing that up again, after we’ve just had sex?”

“It’s been bothering me,” Arthur said truthfully. “If you found out you had a destiny with someone, wouldn’t you want to know them? Maybe not be friends with them or talk to them on a daily basis, but at least know what they look like?”

Merlin sighed and glared at the canopy above the bed. “I dunno. Never really thought about it.”

“Really? Merlin, you’ve given me advice countless times over the years and now you’re just saying ‘Oh, I dunno?’”

Merlin made a pinched face at him. “I thought we went over this yesterday. Gwen said—”

“I’m not asking what Gwen said. I know what she said. I’m asking what you think.”

“I told you what I thought you should do—”

“Yes, yes, the research and the stupid magical texts in the library. I’ll get to that eventually, and no doubt it will be just as boring as every other thing I’ve had to look up in that dusty torture chamber Geoffrey calls a place of knowledge. But what do you think of Emrys? I’m just...I’m trying to understand his reasoning and his motives. If he doesn’t want recognition or a reward, I can at least try to get to know him indirectly.”

Beneath Arthur’s palm, Merlin’s heart was beating quickly, a thudding rhythm against Merlin’s ribcage. Arthur propped himself up on his elbow and looked at Merlin more closely.

Arthur had lied to Gwen about what he told the druid. There had been someone Arthur wanted Emrys to be, and that someone was Merlin. It would have been perfect if Arthur could share a destiny with the man he loved. But there was no possible way Merlin had magic, not a chance in the world that he was the most powerful sorcerer in Albion. Merlin was the most clumsy, forgetful, dolt of a manservant on his best days, even if he was Arthur’s most trusted advisor. And besides that, he would have said something. If not back in the days when they were friends, then certainly after they’d become lovers. Apparently it was simply too much to ask of the universe to have Merlin be his partner in destiny as well as in everything else.

Still, Arthur had faced enough opponents and studied enough of human behaviour to know that the increased beating of Merlin’s heart meant something.

“I...I just think you don’t really know what you’re asking of Emrys,” Merlin said, averting his gaze, shifting back to the canopy. “A lifetime of secrecy and working in the shadows is more preferable to having everything exposed. You know I agree with Gwen on that point. And if...if Emrys has been able to succeed on more than one occasion because people didn’t know who he was, it may make things difficult in future.”

Arthur hummed thoughtfully. He hadn’t thought of that. He supposed it did make things easier in a way. Emrys was a bit like an assassin, wasn’t he? Lurking in the depths to do Arthur’s dirty work and deal with the threats that Arthur knew nothing about.

“Besides,” Merlin continued, “what if he’s not ready to face the fact that he’s been lying for so long?”

“I understand wanting to work in secret, but surely Emrys wouldn’t be so foolish as to believe I wouldn’t forgive him for lying in order to keep me safe,” Arthur said.

“That’s a lot of lying to forgive.”

“Yes, for the benefit of Camelot. For Albion.”

“I don’t know, Arthur. Let’s just...forget it.”

Merlin made to roll over, but Arthur stopped him. Merlin narrowed his eyes, looking at Arthur warily.

“Merlin. Do you...do you know who he is?”

That was it. Arthur had hit the nail on the head. He had to have if Merlin’s frantic heartbeat was anything to go by. That’s why Merlin had reacted strangely, why he kept wanting to drop the issue. That’s why he was able to sound like he knew exactly what Emrys was feeling—because Merlin knew who he was.

Merlin had been friends with a sorcerer once before, after all. That boy Will from his village had had magic. Arthur wouldn’t be surprised if Merlin had befriended and protected another one. He could even understand why Merlin would keep it a secret from him; Merlin was kind-hearted like that, and it wasn’t his secret to tell.

“Merlin.”

“I...I might have an idea. I don’t know for certain, but...obviously there’s always been magic in Camelot no matter how hard your father tried to get rid of it.”

“You’re not going to tell me who he is, are you?”

Merlin chewed his lip, looking torn. Arthur wanted to make Merlin tell him, but he knew what it was like having to be loyal to two people at once.

“He wants to remain hidden, Arthur. I’ve respected his decision for as long as I’ve known him, and I think you should, too. As long as he continues keeping you safe and doing good things for Camelot, I’m fine with how he chooses to do it.”

Arthur sighed and dropped his head back to Merlin’s shoulder. “I suppose the only thing I can do is work to unban magic and hope he comes forward in his own time.”

“Suppose so.”

“I do wonder what he looks like, though.” Arthur waited for Merlin to say something, but when Merlin didn’t, he pinched his nipple. Merlin yelped. “Merlin.”

“What?”

“What does he look like? Just in general. Is he young or old?”

Merlin rubbed at his nipple. “Young, I guess,” he muttered. “Not too far in age from you.”

“What colour is his hair?”

“It’s...brown.”

“And his eyes?”

“Gold.”

Arthur pinched his nipple again. “Haven’t I said no one likes a clever clogs?”

Merlin huffed, flicking Arthur’s nose. “Quit talking about him and go to sleep. I’m tired.”

Arthur looked up at him. “You’re not actually jealous, are you? Considering I’m naked in bed with you and not him.”

“Oh gods, Arthur, just shut up already,” Merlin groaned and rolled over, displacing Arthur’s head from his shoulder.

Arthur chuckled and wrapped an arm around him, shuffling closer. “If it makes you feel better, my arse is still aching from your cock,” he whispered in Merlin’s ear. “I can still feel some of your seed inside me.”

Merlin sighed and scooted back into Arthur’s embrace. “I guess that makes me feel a little better.”

“Thought it might.”

“But I’m serious. Stop dwelling on him all the time.”

How was Arthur meant to do that? Merlin didn’t know what it was like to have a destiny. His official station was still just a servant, no matter how invaluable he was to Arthur. He knew nothing of expectations and duty.

“I’ll try,” Arthur said.

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

Merlin was already at Gaius’s door when he realised the man was halfway across Camelot treating a village illness. He groaned and knocked his head against the wood repeatedly, wishing his mentor hadn’t been inconveniently sent away, or at least that there was someone he could dump his woes on.

It was all even worse than it had been before. Before, he had had the option of revealing himself in his own time. Now he didn’t even have that. Arthur just had to go and ask if Merlin knew Emrys, had to do that stupid thing where he looked in Merlin’s eyes and demanded the truth. And Merlin had lied, again. He’d said Emrys was a friend of his, a fucking mate! How was he ever going to tell Arthur the truth now?

“Merlin?”

Merlin stopped banging his head and looked up at the sound of his name. It was Gwaine.

“Do I even want to ask what you’re doing?” Gwaine asked with an amused grin.

Merlin sighed, turning around to slump against the door. “Just not having the best of mornings.”

Gwaine put a heavy hand on his shoulder. “I know the feeling. I’ve got a pounding in my head as well.”

Merlin huffed a laugh. “Gwaine, you drunk. Alright, give me a moment to get the door open.” Merlin pulled out his key to the workroom and unlocked it, leading Gwaine inside.

He laughed again when Gwaine went straight to the shelf with the correct phial. “Should I even be surprised you know where he keeps it?” Merlin asked.

“Not in the slightest.” Gwaine uncorked the top and drained it in one go, his face scrunching briefly from the taste. “Ugh, never gets any better. But now my problem’s been sorted, what’s yours?”

Merlin plopped down at the table, folding his arms over it. “I’ve trapped myself in a corner and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Gwaine swung a leg over the bench, sitting astride it to face Merlin. “Wanna talk about it?”

Merlin traced a whorling pattern in the wood with his fingernail. “Yes, but...no.” Not with you.

Gwaine quirked a brow.

“It’s complicated. I sort of...lied about certain things to certain people. Gaius knew about it and I thought he could help, but he’s not here.”

Gwaine nodded. “Well, we’ve all got secrets. You know you can trust me, but I get it—”

“No, Gwaine, it’s not that I don’t—”

Gwaine held up a hand. “I get it. Whatever it is, must be pretty serious. Maybe there’s a fair maiden out there who says you’ve got a son or something and you don’t want Arthur to find out.”

Merlin snorted. “That’s something you would do, more like.”

Gwaine grinned. “Like I was saying. We’ve all got secrets, and sometimes the burden starts to get a little overwhelming. You know what I do when that happens?”

“The same thing you always do?”

“Precisely. What do you say, come to the tavern with me?”

Merlin groaned. “Gwaine, it’s bad enough Arthur thinks I spend all my free time there.”

“So he won’t mind then! Come on, most of the others will be there. I’ve even managed to get Lancelot to agree to—”

“Lancelot?”

Merlin suddenly felt like an idiot. Why had he not thought of him before? Lancelot knew about him. Lancelot could help.

“Yeah. After a bit of arm twisting I’ve finally succeeded in getting him to agree.”

“You do know he’s been to the tavern before, don’t you? Just because he’s more of a knight than you doesn’t mean he’s boring.”

“Yes, but he only goes after victories or if it’s one of our birthdays. He’s always got to have a reason. Not this time!”

“Alright. I suppose if Lancelot’s going then I’ll go as well,” Merlin said.

Gwaine slapped Merlin on the back, forcing a huff of air out of his lungs. “Excellent! I’ll see you there.” He got up from the bench, leaving the empty phial on the table, and strode to the door. “Don’t worry, Merlin,” he said over his shoulder as he left. “You might still be in a corner, but at least it’ll seem a little bigger.”

Merlin sighed and put his chin on top of his arms. Maybe Gwaine was right and he needed to try to forget about it for a while. But he still felt rotten.

In the meantime, there was another matter he had to attend to.

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

Merlin knew of only one druid settlement that he could ride to and from within the course of a day. It was in the complete opposite direction of his and Arthur’s last hunt, so it was unlikely he’d find the exact druid he was looking for, but he had to start somewhere. If he was lucky, someone in the camp would know which druid was likely to give away his secret.

Merlin didn’t take Hengroen, his usual horse which Arthur had gifted him, choosing instead to ride one of the mares from the far end of the stable. And he wore a black cloak, raising the hood up to cover his face so not a single guard could say they saw the king’s manservant leave the city. As soon as he cleared the walls, he spurred the horse on as fast as she would go.

Merlin made good time. Even though this horse didn’t know him like Hengroen did, she let him push her to the limit, only slowing when she needed a breath. Merlin stroked her mane soothingly, and even stopped by a creek to give her some water when the sun was highest in the sky. Then it was back to riding.

Shortly after, Merlin neared the ridge overlooking the settlement, pillars of smoke twisting up into the sky. He paused there, wondering if anyone below would look up and spot him, if they’d be able to discern who he was from this distance. He half expected to hear one of their voices in his head already.

He heard nothing, but there were two men suddenly on either side of him, pointing long blades at his throat. His horse shuffled anxiously, sensing the danger.

Merlin lowered his hood and the two men dropped their weapons, bowing their heads in respect.

“Emrys.”

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

Merlin didn’t want to be impolite, so he accepted the food they gave him even though he felt he didn’t have the time. He sat at their fire, offering a smile to any curious children, and shoved spoonfuls of stew into his mouth.

“May I ask the reason for such an unexpected visit, Emrys?” asked their leader, Doria, when Merlin set his empty bowl aside.

Merlin cleared his throat. “The king,” he began. “Someone spoke to him about me. A druid.”

Doria kept her eyes on Merlin, but there were several anxious glances cast around. Merlin felt the ripple of tension and unease in the air. Emrys is unhappy, they thought. Emrys is angry.

“I simply wish to know who,” Merlin continued, “and why. Why, when I have worked so hard to keep my existence secret, would someone do such a thing?”

Doria’s mouth set into a firm line as she lowered her gaze to the burning embers of the fire. She folded her hands together, contemplating.

“All of us believe in the future you will help Arthur create; in the kingdom you will aid him in building. But there are a certain few that believe the time has already come. They believe destiny is not being achieved quickly enough, that you are taking too long in fulfilling the promised future. They are impatient.”

Merlin clenched his fists. He sometimes grew impatient too, but that didn’t give anyone the right to try to speed things along. He was trying his best.

“Did they not think what would happen if Arthur reacted poorly?” Merlin asked. “If he had discovered a sorcerer was at his side for so long and had decided to search him out to execute him instead of praise him? What if Arthur began doubting himself, thinking he couldn’t run a kingdom without depending on someone working in the shadows to help him? Arthur could have killed this druid on sight. Did he not think of that?”

“Did Arthur react poorly?” she asked, ignoring his other statements.

Merlin looked away. “No. But the druid still acted carelessly. Arthur is searching for a man that he doesn’t know is me. If he finds out, there won’t be a destiny, because he’ll hate me. I’ve been perfectly capable of revealing who I am this whole time, and now that someone’s almost done it for me, that’s ruined. Why should I forgive that?”

There were a few gasps from the others, and Merlin glanced at their expressions: some shocked, some worried, others blank.

“I don’t mean to punish anyone,” Merlin said quickly. “I would never...I’m simply upset. This man told a secret that was not his to tell. Surely, you can understand how I feel about that.”

Merlin returned his eyes to Doria, hoping he had managed to explain himself. He didn’t want to get into the details of him loving Arthur, of Arthur loving him. But not knowing how deep their bond ran must have been making it hard for the druids to understand why Merlin wished to stay hidden. They probably thought that Arthur was merely a close friend, that the king would be able to get over a few years’ worth of lies without so much as blinking.

“I agree the man was selfish,” Doria said evenly. “He acted on behalf of the small group of people who believe it is their duty to forcefully bring about the time of Albion. He put you in an unfortunate position.”

Merlin nodded. At least someone understood.

“But has Arthur not seen all the good you’ve done? You said he did not react poorly. Has he realised that magic can be used for more than evil and that it does not corrupt?”

“Well...Yes. He’s said he’s going to lift the ban on magic.”

Another collective gasp ran through their audience, smiles and whispers thrown back over shoulders to let others know. Merlin imagined even people on the other side of the settlement knew, having been told telepathically.

“I don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up,” Merlin added hurriedly. “It could still be a few months yet, and he may very well change his mind if Camelot is suddenly threatened again. But for now he does seem to be set on it. He’s so excited by the idea of destiny, he’s like a child,” Merlin finished, fighting the urge to roll his eyes.

Arthur hardly knew anything of destiny. He only knew duty, obligations, and expectations. Merlin had had to endure the weight of destiny on his shoulders since his first day in Camelot. Arthur would learn soon enough, though.

“That is wonderful news, Emrys,” Doria said. “And still you are upset?”

Merlin dropped his gaze, looking away uncomfortably. “I agree it is good news. I was as pleased as you when I heard how his views had changed. Arthur has come so far, not just in regards to magic, but as a man.”

Merlin glanced up and saw that she was waiting for the “but” sure to follow. He suddenly felt that coming here was a mistake.

“I simply worry that he will hate me when he learns who I am. That he’ll resent having to share a destiny with me. I’m not sure how we’ll be able to create peace across Albion when we can’t even keep peace between ourselves.”

Merlin was afraid to take his eyes from the ground. He could feel their eyes staring at him, though with what emotion he dare not guess. Were they disappointed with him now? They had expected the mighty Emrys to be so powerful and strong, and yet here he was worrying about things such as whether Arthur might still like him or not. It probably seemed petty to them.

Emrys isn’t what we believed him to be, they probably thought. Emrys is just a man. Emrys has feelings. Emrys is weak.

Merlin suddenly got to his feet. He knew for certain now that he had been wrong to come here. Finding the druid responsible would change nothing. At least now he knew the reason behind the man’s actions, but that only made the weight on his shoulders seem heavier. Knowing that people were impatient with him had turned an hourglass in his mind, and it felt as though there were not enough grains of sand left.

“I should return to Camelot,” Merlin said, meeting Doria’s eyes but no one else’s. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

As he turned to go, her hand darted out and gripped the sleeve of his cloak. “A half cannot truly hate that which makes it whole,” she said. “Your futures are as interwoven as the roots of the oldest tree, your bond as deep as the largest ocean. The king will forgive, as his fate dictates.”

Merlin was a little stunned. He’d heard Kilgharrah say nearly the same, but had somewhat dismissed it as more of the dragon’s ramblings about prophecy. The fact that Doria echoed the words now had to mean something.

Merlin finally raised his eyes to the other druids, albeit a bit warily. It wasn’t scorn or disappointment he saw in their faces, but sympathy and compassion. Even the most hulking of men seemed to have his brows drawn together in quiet understanding.

Thank you, he thought to them, sending the message to each face around the fire. I will do my best. You will see magic returned to Albion, I promise you.

Merlin turned to go again, feeling the weight of their faith in him as heavily as ever. The burden of destiny only seemed to have increased with his promise, and he felt he had achieved nothing with this visit. But as always, as he must, Merlin squared his shoulders and walked firmly, lifting his hood over his head once more.

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

Merlin dropped his cloak off in his old room in the physician’s chamber, then dragged himself straight to the tavern. He didn’t have to search hard for Gwaine when he got there.

“Oi, Merlin, you’re late!”

The smile on Merlin’s face was only half forced. His bones ached from being on a horse all day, he was deeply worried that his absence had not gone unnoticed by Arthur, and he was much too fatigued for jokes and drink, but he did long for some sort of levity. Not that there’d be much of that either, considering he needed to speak with Lancelot.

“Give him a break, Gwaine, you know Arthur has him doing the work of three men,” Leon said, slapping Merlin on the back.

Gwaine waggled his eyebrows. “Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

Merlin gave him a rough shove, but was shaking his head and chuckling. “I didn’t come here for your innuendos, Gwaine. Are you gonna get me a drink or not?”

Gwaine threw an arm over Merlin’s shoulder, the smell of mead nearly overwhelming when he crowded in close. “That’s the spirit,” he said, grinning as he shoved his own cup into Merlin’s chest. “Drink up, mate. May your corner expand with every sip.”

Merlin looked down at the tankard in his hand. The dark amber liquid inside was still mostly near the top. He raised the cup to his lips, drinking long and deep, and felt the warm effects almost instantly after he swallowed. Gwaine and a few others cheered.

Merlin didn’t drink too much as the night went on. Not because he was a lightweight—which he so wasn’t, despite what everyone else said—but because he needed to keep a somewhat clear head when talking to Lancelot. And where was that knight anyway? Merlin had already drank his whole tankard and started a second, and he still hadn’t seen him.

Merlin left his seat at the table to have a look around. He finally found Lancelot by where Percival and another man were playing a game of dice. Lancelot was leaning against the wall, watching the game with what appeared to be only half interest.

Merlin called across the noisy tavern, waving as he tried to get Lancelot’s attention. “Lance!”

Lance looked up at the sound of his name, his eyes widening a bit when he saw Merlin. Merlin waved him over, ducking into a dim corner where it was a little more quiet.

“Merlin, I’ve been meaning to speak to you,” Lance said.

Merlin furrowed his brow. “I’ve been meaning to speak to you.”

Lance nodded. “No doubt about the same thing. Guinevere said Arthur was told about a sorcerer named Emrys. That this Emrys and Arthur share a destiny. Sounds awfully familiar.”

Merlin sighed. “I know. It was a druid that took matters into his own hands and came to Arthur in the forest at night.”

“I don’t like lying to Guinevere, Merlin.”

“I know you don’t—”

“What are you going to do?”

Merlin wrung his hands. “I was kind of hoping you might have an idea. Gaius is usually the one I’d go to, but he’s away in that village...And the druids seem to think Arthur will forgive me if I tell him the whole truth. I just wanted to speak to you first. Do you think I should tell him?”

“I’ve always thought you should tell him. You know that, Merlin.”

Merlin lowered his eyes. “Yes, I know.” But he’d been kind of hoping Lancelot would have changed his mind.

“The longer you wait to tell him, the longer it’ll take him to forgive.”

Merlin didn’t want to believe that. It’d been almost ten years since he arrived in Camelot. Ten years of lies and hurt and staying hidden.

“Do you really think so?” Merlin asked. “If it were Gwen, and she hid something like this from you for so long, would you be angry and hold a grudge? Or do you think your love for her would make it easier to accept?”

Lance shook his head solemnly. “I am not Arthur. I don’t mean to imply that the love between you two is any less deep than what I have for Guinevere, but he is a different man, and handles things in different ways. I would be hurt, yes, but Arthur channels his hurt into anger. You know he always has.”

Merlin was quite aware of that. He had seen it on numerous occasions with his own eyes. There were times when Arthur did allow himself to sulk, but most times he clenched his jaw and went straight from despair to rage.

This was going to be the latter. There was no way to avoid Arthur’s wrath, not this time. And now that Arthur knew about Emrys, had spoken to Merlin personally about it, that wrath was going to increase twofold. It was going to break both of their hearts.

Despite the reassurances of the druids, Merlin wasn’t sure he could make himself do it.

“Better sooner than later, Merlin,” Lancelot said.

“Maybe I should wait until after the ban’s been lifted.”

“Merlin.”

“That’s what Arthur expects Emrys to do anyway.”

“And am I meant to keep my knowledge a secret from Guinevere for that much longer?”

Merlin frowned. He’d never heard Lance sound like that. Never so...bitter. It hurt him to hear his friend take such an uncharacteristic tone.

“I’m sorry, Merlin, I didn’t mean...I understand your hesitance and I’m sure Guinevere will as well when the time comes to tell her. It’s only the time in between that I don’t like. Things were different before, when the matter was far from everyone’s minds.”

Merlin nodded. “I know, Lance. I’m sorry for making you do this. I can’t thank you enough for being such a loyal friend.”

Lancelot put an arm over Merlin’s shoulders, smiling. “You changed my life, Merlin. You gave me a chance to make something of myself in Camelot, and now I am a knight, able to call the most beautiful woman in the world my own.”

Merlin couldn’t help but grin. “You did save my life first, you know.”

Lancelot waved it off. “I’ve always been glad to keep your secret, Merlin, because I’m indebted to you. I’ll respect your wishes as long as you need me to, but I ask that I don’t have to for much longer.”

“Of course, Lancelot. As soon as magic is legal again, I’ll tell Arthur and Gwen everything. I promise.”

It felt like with two little words, the air had been sucked out of the room. Another promise. Another person not to let down. Merlin was burying himself alive.

Lancelot’s smile widened. “Excellent. Now, shall we get properly drunk?”

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

Arthur wasn’t too angry—not really—and he certainly wasn’t worried, but where the hell was Merlin? Arthur had asked around, and nobody except Gwaine had seen him the entire day. Now, when he was meant to be lying next to Arthur in bed, he wasn’t here either.

Alright, maybe Arthur was a little worried. And maybe a lot angry.

By the ninth time Arthur had rolled onto his left side and groaned in exasperation, there was finally a loud knock on the door. If Merlin had been there, he would’ve got up to get it, but of course it was probably Merlin who needed entry now. Arthur sighed and threw his legs over the side of the bed to stand.

When he opened the door, he was only somewhat surprised to see his useless manservant-lover hanging off of Leon in a drunken heap. Honestly, Arthur should have figured he’d be in the tavern.

“Found him sleeping on the castle steps, sire,” Leon said as he entered and dropped Merlin on the bed. Merlin groaned, but remained otherwise silent and motionless. “It seems even Gwaine could only get him that far.”

Arthur sighed again and walked around the bed to prod Merlin’s sleeping head. Merlin let out a small grunt of annoyance but stayed asleep.

“Thank you, Leon,” Arthur said, turning to the knight. He dismissed him with a nod, and Leon exited, closing the door softly behind him.

Arthur walked back to the foot of the bed and knelt down by Merlin’s feet where they hung off the edge, then undid the buckles of Merlin’s boots before tugging them off. He set them down on the floor, then stood up and began the process of removing Merlin’s clothes.

“Honestly, Merlin, there’s useless and then there’s useless. A whole day in the tavern? What am I going to do with you?”

Arthur knew that probably wasn’t the case, though. There was dirt and grass on Merlin’s boots, so he’d probably been out gathering herbs or something. And as the physician’s assistant, Merlin had most likely been doing things which Gaius would have otherwise done had he been here, treating the sick and wounded. Arthur had seen Merlin work himself to the point of collapsing before, and Merlin had probably thought himself worthy of a few drinks after a hard day. Arthur supposed he could be lenient this once.

And it wasn’t terrible having to take care of Merlin. Arthur did sometimes wonder what it would be like if they spent an evening with the roles reversed, though at this point Merlin already helped Arthur with so many of his kingly duties that it was occasionally hard to distinguish who actually ran the kingdom. It was as if there were no roles between them, at least in private, because everything weaved together into one efficient entity. Still, there were moments when Merlin showed a rare amount of respect, a lowering of his eyes or slipping up and calling Arthur “sire” when he no longer had to.

Merlin curled in on himself and shivered once his naked skin was exposed to the air. His brows pushed together and he pouted in his sleep. Arthur crawled back on the bed and pulled Merlin up—Gods, he was much heavier than he looked—and manoeuvred Merlin’s limbs until they were both under the duvet. Merlin unconsciously slid back toward Arthur for warmth and sighed when he found a comfortable spot, his pouting features smoothing back into peacefulness.

Arthur loved watching Merlin sleep, and not just because he was what Merlin called “emotionally repressed.” It had taken months for Arthur to even say he loved Merlin aloud, so of course he preferred looking at Merlin when Merlin wasn’t able to watch him do it. And he wasn’t the only one—Arthur had woken to Merlin staring at him more than once.

But Merlin just looked so innocent when he was sleeping. He often appeared like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, even though he carried on with a bright smile. It was evident in the slump of his spine, the dragging of his feet, the tilt of his mouth, whenever he thought Arthur wasn’t looking. He had ridden into danger with Arthur on countless occasions, and had even carried Arthur out of it a few—not that Arthur would admit it—and he had been the most amazing servant Arthur ever had, even if he sometimes disappeared for whole days at a time. So watching Merlin sleep, seeing the daily worries fade from Merlin’s countenance and the forced smiles give way to peaceful ignorance, was a treasure to behold.

Arthur wrapped his arm more firmly around Merlin, holding him tight, tight like he was precious, because he was.

“I love you, Merlin.”

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

“Merrrrrlin.”

Merlin knew exactly whose voice was in his ear, and he could feel the warmth of the sun on his face as well as a sword-calloused hand sliding over his hip, but that didn’t mean he wanted to get up any time soon. He grunted in protest and buried his face deeper into the soft pillow.

Arthur was persistent though, and was speaking in Merlin’s ear in that breathy, deep voice he used whenever he wanted Merlin to do something.

“It’s time to wake up, Merlin,” he coaxed.

Merlin sighed and blinked his eyes slowly open. The light from the window was blinding, and not at all good for his pounding headache, so he rolled over, coming face to face with Arthur in the process.

It took Merlin’s breath away seeing Arthur lying there, smiling at him in the morning sunlight. He was wearing black trousers with his blue shirt, the one that brought out his eyes and that Merlin loved most. Sometimes Merlin thought his life was a dream, and that he wasn’t really this lucky. Such happiness came with a price.

Then the weight of “destiny” came crashing down.

Arthur leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Merlin’s lips. Merlin pulled away after a few seconds.

“Arthur, my mouth tastes like something died in it,” he groaned, sitting up.

Arthur chuckled. “There’s something that tastes much worse over on the table by your breakfast. Lancelot brought it by earlier.”

Merlin slid from under the duvet and padded across the chamber to the table. “I don’t remember being naked when I got here,” he said as he unstopped the phial.

“I’m surprised you remember getting here at all,” Arthur quipped.

“Well, I don’t, but that’s beside the point.” Merlin brought the phial to his lips and downed the bitter liquid in one go.

“Leon said he found you sleeping on the castle steps. He brought you back and I undressed you.”

“But didn’t dress me.”

“I am the king, Merlin. I shouldn’t have had to do your job at all.”

Merlin rolled his eyes, not that Arthur could see, and went to the wardrobe to pull out some clothes.

“Gaius returned this morning,” Arthur said as Merlin stepped into a pair of trousers. Merlin heard him get up from the bed and sit at the table.

“Oh? That’s good.” Merlin made a mental note to talk to him as soon as he could get away.

“I planned to speak with him about what we discussed,” Arthur continued. “After he reports on the status of the village, of course.”

“When?”

“After breakfast. I want you to be there as well. Considering you know Emrys, you can’t be completely ignorant in the matters of magic.”

Merlin turned away from the wardrobe, walking to the table as he tied his neckerchief. How was he going to warn Gaius of Arthur’s acquired knowledge before the meeting?

“Yes, as I said, I did grow up where it wasn’t banned, so I know a few small things. And I’ve had to do research with Gaius on some occasions when it seemed like we were up against something unnatural.” Merlin sat down across from Arthur, picking up his goblet to wash down the taste of the medicine. “But you’re sure you want to do this? You’re not just doing it to meet Emrys, but because you really believe it’s the right thing to do?”

Arthur held Merlin’s gaze steadily. “I’m sure, Merlin. I wouldn’t make such a decision lightly. It will undo my father’s life work, and it will have lasting effects on the kingdom. I’ve thought about the executions of innocents I’ve had to watch, the raids on druid camps I’ve had to lead, and the healing techniques that could have saved lives had they been legal. I’m certain.”

Merlin smiled and nodded before bringing his goblet to his lips. “Good.”

It was good. It was great. Now Merlin just needed a reason to get away to tell Gaius of the development.

“So where were you yesterday?” Arthur asked, biting into a piece of sausage. “I didn’t see you even once.”

Merlin forced himself to swallow his drink and put his cup down calmly. He’d thought about what he was going to say to this, but now that the time was here, it was killing him to have to get the words out.

“I went to visit Emrys.”

Arthur’s eyebrows shot up, and Merlin worried for a moment that Arthur would choke. “You did?”

“I figured he would want to know right away about your decision to change the law, as well as your eagerness to meet him.”

“What did he say?”

“He...he was pleased. He’d been expecting a much more negative reaction upon your discovering he’d been protecting you. He’s grateful you aren’t sending the guards after him.”

Arthur leaned forward. “And?”

Merlin took a deep breath. “And when I told him you wanted to meet, he said he’d like to wait until after the ban is lifted. As Gwen and I expected.”

The smile that lit Arthur’s face was almost too painful for Merlin to bear. He knew that Arthur wouldn’t be smiling when the time finally came for him to reveal himself. There would be anguish in those eyes, maybe even tears. There would be yelling on Arthur’s part, begging on Merlin’s, and it was going to be the hardest thing Merlin ever had to do.

“That’s great,” Arthur said, popping the rest of his sausage in his mouth. “All the more reason to address the matter quickly.”

Merlin nodded and ransacked his mind once more for a way to stall Arthur’s departure. There had to be something to keep Arthur in his room just a few moments longer while Merlin spoke with Gaius.

“But not in that tunic,” Merlin said suddenly.

Arthur quirked a brow and glanced down at his blue shirt.

“Not in that tunic,” Merlin repeated. “Red is for when you have royal duties, white is for when I want to show you off, and blue is just for me when we go out on a hunt, because you look best in blue. So you’ll have to change first. Wear white since you have nothing important to do today.”

Arthur laughed. “That’s how you go about dressing me? You haven’t changed your own dreadful clothing in almost ten years, but you have an entire system for me?”

“Yes.” The sad thing was that it was actually the truth.

Arthur shook his head, chuckling. “I have said before that you’re a girl, haven’t I, Merlin? But alright, I’ll change.”

Minutes later, as Merlin finished stacking the dishes to make it easier for one of the servants to take away, he looked over his shoulder just in time to see Arthur pull his blue tunic off. Merlin stopped what he was doing and quickly picked up his boots from the foot of the bed, shoving his feet inside.

“I’ll see you when you come down then, alright?” Merlin said, making for the door.

“Merlin.”

Merlin halted in his tracks and pivoted around to face Arthur. Arthur was still shirtless and had a single eyebrow raised.

“Do you want me to clear the table?” Merlin asked.

Arthur shook his head and beckoned Merlin over. Merlin crossed the room warily.

“I’m not the only one changing,” Arthur said, reaching up to undo Merlin’s neckerchief with a grin.

“You’re not?”

“I’ll only put on my white tunic, if you put on your purple one.” Merlin felt his heart sink as his hopes to warn Gaius in time were crushed at Arthur’s words. “I had it made for you for a reason, you know, and you don’t wear it nearly enough. And why in the gods’ name do you still insist on this stupid scarf after all these years?” His fingers finally managed to undo the knot and he tossed the red cloth onto his desk.

“I’ve told you why—”

“I hardly think your mother will mind if you go without it every once in a while. It’s not as though she’s around to see. And honestly, Camelot is not that much further north, I don’t know why she would think you needed that flimsy thing to keep warm. Besides, are you twelve or twenty-six, Merlin?”

Merlin sighed heavily and grumbled as Arthur urged him to raise his arms. “Twenty-seven, actually, though I’m not surprised you forgot. Also, you’re doing my job again. Make up your mind about it, will you?”

Arthur reached into Merlin’s side of the wardrobe, pulled out the purple tunic, then shoved it into Merlin’s chest. “I’m not doing your job, Merlin. I simply knew you wouldn’t want to change and took it upon myself to get you halfway there. Now put that on, then dress me like a proper manservant.”

“Since when have I ever been a proper manservant?” Merlin muttered as he stuck his arms into the sleeves.

“Exactly. And you’ve only gotten worse since I let you into my bed.”

Merlin raised the tunic over his head and pulled it down. “I didn’t hear you complaining about propriety the other night.”

“Oh, ha ha, Merlin. Remind me to never let you speak to Gwaine ever again. Ever.”

Merlin chuckled as he reached for one of Arthur’s white shirts. He helped Arthur put his arms through, then leaned in close, bringing his mouth to Arthur’s ear. “‘Oh, oh, Merlin...’” he mimicked in a hoarse voice.

Arthur glared at him. “I do not do that.”

“Hmm, you’re right,” Merlin remarked as he tugged the shirt down. “You’re not very vocal when we do it like that. Perhaps it was more like ‘ah, ah, ah.’”

Arthur kept glaring, but Merlin detected a definite amused spark in his eye. “Merlin?”

“Shut up?”

Arthur smiled. “You guessed it.”

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

Gaius was already hard at work when Arthur walked into the physician’s chambers. He was sitting at the workbench, slumped down a little but determinedly soldiering on. Arthur realised Gaius must not have rested at all after arriving that morning.

When Gaius looked up, it was with sunken eyes, but his voice came out strong. “Ah, Merlin, just in time. There was a growth of rue I encountered on the way that I could not afford to pass, and I’m afraid all the bending over has ruined my spine. I’ll need your help for a few days while I get the stores back up to their usual levels.”

“Of course, Gaius.” Merlin darted forward, helping Gaius up by providing a shoulder to lean on.

Arthur wondered if Gaius had failed to see him completely, but surely that hadn’t been the case considering Arthur had entered ahead of Merlin. Arthur felt a dull pang of jealousy as he watched Merlin guide Gaius to his pallet, whispering what he assumed were encouraging words in the physician’s ear. There’d been a time when Gaius had been a father figure to Arthur, back when Uther had been especially cold and almost callous in manner, and now it seemed that Merlin had taken up Arthur’s old role.

He wasn’t too put out by it, because as far as Arthur knew, Merlin didn’t have a father. The topic had come up once or twice over the years, but Merlin had gone uncharacteristically silent each time, so Arthur assumed the man was dead. Arthur was pleased that Merlin had found someone with whom he could connect in such a way, but that didn’t stop Arthur from feeling—perhaps vainly—a little envious.

The two of them seemed to be in deep conversation when Arthur drifted back into the present from his thoughts. Merlin’s brows were tilted in the way that meant worry, and Gaius’s expression seemed blank with a hint of troubled underneath. When Merlin cast a glance Arthur’s way, his face quickly smoothed out, and Arthur raised a brow.

Merlin rolled his eyes and stepped away from Gaius’s pallet, letting the man sit unaided. When he spoke again, his voice was much louder. “Sorry, Gaius, you know how kings are. They have to have the first and last word, or they’ll be even more insufferable than usual.”

Arthur bit back the retort on his tongue and forced himself not to rise to Merlin’s goading. There were serious matters to discuss, the far off town’s health being the first.

“How was the village when you left it, Gaius?” he asked. “You weren’t gone long, so I assume you were able to treat the disease quickly?”

“Yes, sire. It was fortunate for them that I’d seen this type of illness before and knew the required treatment. I instructed those not afflicted in the necessary measures and as soon as a handful people began showing signs of recovery, I left the rest in their hands. If there are any instances of relapse, I’ll be sent for again.”

Arthur nodded, pleased at the news. “Good.” He looked Gaius over again before continuing. “There is something else, but it can wait until after you’ve rested if you’re quite tired.”

“That depends entirely on what it is, sire. I’m not up for another journey just yet, but anything not too demanding I’ll do my best to help you with.”

Arthur furrowed his brow, wondering where to start. Should he relay the whole tale of Emrys or simply ask for information without giving a reason? Cutting to the chase would let the old man rest sooner, and Arthur could go into detail later, but Arthur deeply believed in showing everything up front and hiding nothing, especially when it came to those he trusted. Knowing Gaius, he wouldn’t mind a few minutes’ exposition, considering the importance of the matter.

Arthur walked to the workbench across from the pallet and sat down, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. Merlin, who’d been fiddling with an empty phial on the table, sat down as well, seeing Arthur meant to start at the beginning. Arthur ignored Merlin’s drawn out sigh.

“You were my father’s advisor for many years, weren’t you, Gaius?” Arthur began.

Gaius nodded. “I was, sire.”

“You were present when magic was still legal.”

“Yes.”

“And did you often advise my father in matters pertaining to magic?” Arthur knew he must have; Gaius had advised his father on magical things even when Arthur was prince, though no doubt their approach was not as scientific in the days before the ban.

“Yes, sire.”

“And during the time before the Purge, did you ever practise magic yourself?”

Gaius’s expression didn’t change, at least not much. There was a slight thinning of his lips as he hesitated. “I did, sire. I’ve never had much magic, but I was able to increase the potency of many of my treatments and perform simple healing spells.”

“You’re well-learned in it, then?”

Gaius did raise an eyebrow at that, for which Arthur couldn’t blame him. Gaius would’ve had to be well-learned in order to be a proper advisor, and to be able to deal with so many magical threats as they’d seen in recent years. Perhaps the question was a bit redundant, but Arthur wanted to be thorough.

Gaius answered anyway. “I am. May I ask what you’re getting at, sire?”

Arthur folded his hands between his knees. “There’s… It’s been brought to my attention that I have a protector of sorts. Someone with great magical ability and with whom I supposedly share a destiny. The man who told me this said that with this person’s help I would bring about a time of peace and magic. That Emrys, the most powerful sorcerer to ever live, would help me unite all of Albion.”

A sudden shattering of glass made Arthur jump, and a hissed “Shit!” from behind him made him look back. He was hardly surprised Merlin had managed to knock something over just by sitting still, and sighed when Merlin fell gracelessly off the bench in his haste to clean up his mess.

Honestly, how had he not got himself killed yet?

Arthur turned back around, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. At least there was a flash of humour in Gaius’s eyes, so Arthur knew he wasn’t alone in finding Merlin’s clumsiness amusingly pathetic.

“What I’m getting at, Gaius, is that I’m inclined to lift the ban on magic in order to see this era of peace. Naturally, this means I’d like some information on how magic works and all its uses. In short, to become as learned as you and make an educated decision,” Arthur explained. “However, Emrys is proving rather elusive, so I’m unable to consult him on anything for a first-hand account. Merlin informed me that the next best person to ask would be you, considering your extensive collection of books and knowledge.”

Gaius nodded slowly as he took in Arthur’s words. “I see.”

He pushed himself to his feet and walked over to where Merlin was sweeping up the broken glass, then shooed Merlin away.

“I’ll clean this up,” he said. “Show Arthur where the magic books are kept.”

Arthur stood up and Merlin looked at the physician, seemingly uncomprehending. “G-Gaius?”

“You’ve read every book in here just as thoroughly as I, have you not? Surely you can fill my shoes and aid Arthur for a few hours while I get some rest. When I need your help with the stores, I’ll send for you.”

“I...suppose so.” Merlin still looked hesitant, most likely because he wasn’t looking forward to all the tiring work that went with poring through books and research. And if it was apparently going to be his second time, Arthur could hardly blame him for being reluctant.

Even so, Arthur hadn’t planned on letting Merlin get out of it so easily. It would go faster if they split the work between them, like they did with most of Arthur’s kingly duties, and Arthur was certain there were books here written in the old language that Uther never let him learn. Not to mention he simply enjoyed Merlin’s company, and much preferred it to Gaius’s.

“No need to look so sad, Merlin,” Arthur quipped, smirking at him. “At least you won’t be mucking out stables or cleaning chamber pots while you’re stuck with me all day.”

Merlin grumbled and made for the steep stairs behind the workbench. “Books’re up here. Just be careful, and don’t tear the pages. They’re the only books of their kind left.”

“Someone’s starting to sound a bit like Geoffrey.”

“Oh, shut up.”

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

Merlin knew that Gaius had been trying to be helpful when he assigned him the task of aiding Arthur in his research, but really it only served to make Merlin feel worse. And when Merlin had approached Gaius after finally managing to get a moment away from Arthur, Gaius had simply given him the eyebrow and said this would be a good opportunity to learn of Arthur’s feelings on magic, to gauge how he might react when Merlin eventually told him of who he really was. That Merlin should have thanked him!

But it was frustrating. Every time Arthur asked, “How do you suppose this works?” or, “Do you think someone would be likely to abuse this power?” or said, “It’d be amazing to actually see this,” Merlin had to bite his tongue and feign ignorance. He’d had to say that he only had a vague idea of how such a spell might work, or that yes, he supposed it would be fantastic to see something like a statue coming to life before one’s eyes. Merlin was only able to add clarification on the rare subjects which he felt wouldn’t risk giving him away.

The entire endeavour took nearly three weeks. Three weeks of endless studying, and even the occasional note-taking. When Arthur wasn’t holding court, or speaking with the knights about Morgana’s movements, he was either in Gaius’s workshop or in his chambers reading. And when they’d exhausted all of Gaius’s texts, he’d moved to the library.

The trouble was that it wasn’t all in one convenient volume; the information was scattered throughout various books under various categorised titles. There were books on healing, on enchantments and charms, on mind control and animal friendship. There were some for magical potions and poultices. There were others dealing with alchemy and transmutation—turning metal into gold like Gwen’s father was accused of, or turning sand into water like Merlin had tried ages ago when Anhora cursed Camelot for the unicorn’s death.

Then there were Merlin’s favourite books—though Arthur certainly didn’t know—that focused on controlling the elements. Spells and techniques used for conjuring thunderstorms and lightning strikes, making plants grow, causing the ground to shift and open up, creating fire from nothing to be cast in a large burst of flame. Firestorms, earthquakes, wind funnels—all the complicated, dazzling displays of power that Merlin was able to perform almost naturally but that he never let himself do because of the magnitude. That didn’t mean he had to deprive himself of reading about it, though.

There was even one book entirely for household magic, things like removing stains, cleaning up spills, heating food and water, mending clothes, and polishing armour. Arthur thrust the book in Merlin’s hands when he’d found it, laughing the whole time.

“Look at this, Merlin,” he said. “Pity you don’t have any magic, huh? You’d certainly be able to benefit from this.”

Merlin bit his tongue again, simply glaring at Arthur when he really wanted to let loose his torrent of inner thoughts.

I’ve read this, you idiot. If you paid any attention, you’d notice how even the worst stains are removed from your clothing when the laundresses can’t do it, and how our bath is always the right temperature when we get in no matter how long the water’s been sitting. Your favourite red tunic has been mended seven times, and the only reason I don’t keep your breakfast hot is because you were ungrateful about it even after I started sharing your bed and you didn’t care enough to comment on it.

Arthur ruffled Merlin’s hair good-naturedly when Merlin just pouted. “It’s alright, Merlin, you’re still a decent servant even without magic.”

Merlin sighed and beat his head against the book in his hands. “Why, why did I have to fall in love with this prat of a king?” he mourned. “Why couldn’t it be someone else, like one of the knights, or even one of the stable boys?”

Arthur tugged on a lock of Merlin’s hair, leaning in to whisper breathily in his ear. “That’s dangerously close to treason, Merlin.”

With no one around to see, he licked the shell of Merlin’s ear, making Merlin shudder at the touch. Merlin pushed him away, thrusting the book back into Arthur’s chest and ignoring the triumphant laughter.

“Maybe I’ll convince Emrys to replace you as manservant,” Arthur teased.

“I’m sure the last thing Emrys wants to do is use his magic to clean up after you,” Merlin muttered, picking up a book on magical creatures.

“Hmm. You’re probably right. The greatest sorcerer in the land probably has better things to be doing.”

Merlin nearly tripped on his way to a chair at the library table. What the hell was he supposed to do with that, Arthur teasing him one second and unknowingly praising him the next?

The book of magical creatures turned out to be more redundant information that Merlin knew. There was the bastet (which he was closely familiarised with), dragons and wyverns (which he knew a lot about, but not everything), griffins, trolls, unicorns, fomorroh (which he was much too acquainted with, and he rubbed the back of his neck while reading), and various other creatures of magic—cockatrice, afanc, goblin, pixie, Nathair, Lamia.

Besides the elemental books, Merlin was much more interested in the books that Arthur seemed to hoard for himself. Those focused on glamours, illusions, scrying, and curses; on protective spells like shields and barriers; on magical jewellery. The only book that Arthur held close which he then reluctantly passed to Merlin was a volume entirely about runes, because, like most of the other books Arthur dumped on Merlin, it was written solely in the language of the Old Religion. Merlin read it with so much interest that Arthur often had to poke him to remind him to translate. Merlin made a mental note to store the book away for later, because some of its contents could certainly come in useful.

Then, finally, when the three-week mark of their frenzied study of magic was nearing, and they were sat in Arthur’s chambers, reading late into the night by the light of low-burning candles, Arthur slammed a book closed, jerking Merlin out of his daze. At that point, Merlin hadn’t really been reading, but more like staring sleepy-eyed at the foreign words, blinking hard when they blurred together.

“It’s not...” Arthur seemed to be at a loss for words. He frowned, the tip of his forefinger pressed to his lips. “Among everything, there’s almost nothing entirely evil. Sure, there are curses and poisons and charms, but...even those could be used a certain way.” Arthur waved his hand over the books stacked high on his desk. “They’re just...tools.”

Merlin felt like a weight had been lifted, and sighed in relief. He was so glad to hear Arthur say that. “Yes, sire, exactly.”

Arthur’s hand dropped to the desk and he looked at Merlin with a furrowed brow. Had Merlin’s relief seemed too evident? Merlin had thought that since his view on magic was no secret, that Arthur would see he was just glad for him to finally have done enough research to come to the conclusion. Surely no other meaning could be gleaned from his sigh of relief?

“What?” Merlin asked when Arthur continued to stare at him quizzically.

Arthur shook his head and pushed back from the desk, getting to his feet. “Nothing. It’s only...nothing. I think we’ve done enough research, Merlin. Finally we can look ahead to other things.”

Merlin closed his own book and got up from the table to go to him. It was obvious Arthur was upset, but it wasn’t obvious why. Had Merlin done something wrong? What was with the sudden moodiness? Arthur should’ve been glad to be done with all this reading.

“What is it?” Merlin asked. “Tell me. Is it because of what your father—”

“It’s nothing to do with my father, Merlin,” Arthur nearly snapped. Merlin had started to raise a hand to put on Arthur’s shoulder, but he abruptly stopped at the tone. “It’s nothing to do with any of this.”

“Sire, please, tell me what’s wrong.”

Merlin saw him fight with himself. He saw Arthur chew his lip and grind his teeth, so he knew whatever it was had to be something personal, something that was hard for Arthur to say even to the person he loved.

He turned suddenly, facing Merlin head on. “Are you happy, Merlin?” He shook his head, changing his words. “Given the circumstances, are you content?”

Merlin gaped, but was glad it wasn’t about something magic-related, or something he’d done wrong. “What? Why—Where the hell is this coming from? What circumstances?”

“You know I never mean any of those things about you being a terrible servant, don’t you? I thought...It’s what we do, so I thought...” He trailed off, searching Merlin’s eyes worriedly.

“Of course I know that!” Merlin exclaimed, chuckling. “Arthur, are you alright? Tell me what’s going on.” He finally let his hand touch Arthur’s shoulder, at which Arthur noticeably calmed.

Arthur shook his head again, chuckling a bit himself. “Maybe I’m being stupid.”

“You’re always being stupid. Now come on, tell me.”

“I...I realise it can be hard for you,” he began hesitantly, not meeting Merlin’s eyes. “I tell you to draw me a bath, and then you join me in it. I tell you to fetch my meals, and then you dine with me. I tell you to undress me, and then you lie with me. I understand the lines can be a bit blurred.”

“You think I’m not content just because I’m still your servant?”

“Are you? Merlin, I only want you to be happy, and too often there are times when it seems as though you’re not.”

So Arthur did notice Merlin’s moods then. Merlin knew he couldn’t fool Arthur entirely, but he’d hoped at least that it was well enough not to be commented on, or worse, worried about.

Merlin sighed and stepped closer, bracketing Arthur’s face with his hands before kissing him gently. “You’re right, Arthur. Teasing and bickering...That is what we do. But if it were not, I would tell you every day that you make me the happiest man alive. That I love you completely and unconditionally, and that I would do anything you asked of me. Being your servant doesn’t change that. No, I wouldn’t mind not having to clean the chamberpot or polish boots, but it’s not enough to make me dissatisfied with what we have. And I’m the king’s servant, I could pass the chores off to someone else if I truly didn’t feel up to doing it. You’ve nothing to worry about.”

Arthur’s posture slackened as he laid his hands on Merlin’s hips and melted into him. “Good. That’s...good,” he said against Merlin’s lips.

Merlin kissed him again, slow and reassuring. “So tell me. What brought this on? You were talking about magic being a tool and then you changed topic entirely.”

“Mmm. Just that...you called me ‘sire.’ Which you rarely do when we’re alone. I thought it might’ve meant something and I...I suppose I overreacted.”

“You are stupid. The lines do sort of blur sometimes, Arthur, and it’s hard keeping track of the roles. It was just a slip of the tongue.” To prove it, Merlin slid his tongue into Arthur’s mouth, making Arthur purr in delight. “I’ll be sure to call you a prat next time.”

Merlin felt the smile on Arthur’s lips as they kissed, and he felt the confidence seep back into Arthur’s body when a hand pressed against his lower back.

He would have to be careful from now on. Now that he’d assuaged Arthur’s fears about his happiness, he couldn’t give Arthur a reason to believe he was anything less than content. Perhaps he could blame his moods on the threat of Morgana, and claim he was worried for Arthur’s safety should Arthur ask again.

“Come on, let’s go to bed. I’m tired,” Merlin said, pulling away.

“It has been a rather long day.”

“Like all the days you’ve had me staring at books.”

“Just remember to put out the candles before you fall into bed this time.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “Yes, prat.”

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

There weren’t words to describe how glad Arthur was to be done with all the book-work. It had taken almost three weeks of relentless studying—something he hadn’t engaged in since he was a boy, and thought he’d never have to do again—but he was finally ready to move on to the next stage of his plan.

A loud, reverberating peal of thunder startled him awake the morning after he declared the reading finished, and a piercing crack of lightning made him tense up only seconds after. The wind was howling so fiercely that he could almost feel it buffeting against the stone walls. It was like nature was at war with itself outside, and after being so intensely buried in magical texts of late, his first thought was that it was a sorcerer’s doing.

“You’re worse than a dog,” Merlin groaned, sliding an arm over Arthur and making him lay flat again. “Stop shaking, I’m trying to sleep.”

“‘M not shaking,” Arthur mumbled, lying back down and letting Merlin curl into him.

“Heart’s beating quickly, though. ‘S just a storm, Arthur.” Merlin yawned and smacked his lips a couple times, rubbing his cheek over Arthur’s chest.

“Doesn’t sound like just a storm. Sounds...unnatural.”

Merlin snorted softly. “Because we’ve haven’t gotten a storm like this in a while? Doesn’t mean there’s anything unnatural about it. Sometimes nature needs to vent just like we do.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I just am, Arthur. Now shut up and let me sleep. And don’t move, you’re comfortable.”

Arthur sighed and closed his eyes, trying to will himself back into unconsciousness. It didn’t work. He had knights out there, searching for Morgana as well as another group patrolling the border. How were they faring in the storm? And were the horses in the stables terribly frightened? What if they trampled one of the stable boys in their fright? Was it late enough in the morning yet for people in the lower town to have set up their stalls, and if so, was the heavy wind troubling them? How could Arthur get back to sleep with so many worries running through his head?

“I wonder if there’s a spell for stopping a storm like there is for creating one,” Arthur mused aloud.

“Nnn. Usually best to just let ones like this run their course. Not a good idea to mess with nature too much.”

“So there is a spell then?”

Arthur felt Merlin stiffen. “I don’t...think so. No. Probably not.”

“So then how would a sorcerer stop a storm without a spell?” Arthur asked.

“I suppose they’d have to be very powerful. I don’t know.”

“Do you think Emrys could stop one?”

“I dunno, maybe. Yes, probably. Would you stop talking and let me sleep?”

Arthur slid away and got out of bed, making sure not to raise the duvet more than necessary and let cold air get to Merlin. The stone floor on the soles of his feet made him shiver, but he ignored it.

“Hey!” Merlin exclaimed, looking annoyed and worried all in one. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to see Gaius.”

“What the hell for? Come back to bed.”

“I can’t get back to sleep and there’s no use lying around when I could be doing something. I was going to speak with him today anyway.”

Arthur crossed the room to the wardrobe, quickly pulling out some clothes to wear.

“Arthur...”

“Just lay down, Merlin. Weren’t you just complaining about me not letting you sleep?”

Merlin pouted. “Well I’m up now. What do you need to see Gaius about?”

“I just need to speak with him before my day gets too busy and it gets put off,” Arthur replied as he put his arms in a red tunic. “Now that I’ve done the research I need to know what I can do better, and he’s the one to talk to about that. Why don’t you get breakfast?”

Merlin threw the duvet back and got out of bed. “I’ll go with you.”

“I’m sure there are other places you’re needed in the castle what with this storm going on, Merlin. The western tower in particular tends to leak due to the old stones. You should help the other servants before attending to your own duties.”

Merlin crossed his arms, raising a challenging eyebrow. “Is that an order, prat?”

Arthur looked him up and down as he adorned his trousers. Merlin was in his stubborn stance, so even if Arthur did make it an order—which he didn’t want to, and truthfully had no reason to—he doubted Merlin would follow it. He’d probably just sneak after Arthur like he always did when he had a mind to.

“No, it’s not. But it’s hardly anything worth being present for, Merlin. Just boring royal discussion.” He tugged a few times on his tunic. “See? Even wearing red to prove it.”

Merlin’s lips thinned, and his brows pushed together in thought. “Do you really want me not to go?” he asked.

“I just figured I’ve been working you so much these past few weeks that you’d be sick of the whole thing by now. I wanted to give you a break from it. Maybe I feel a slight bit sorry,” he added in a quiet voice.

“Wow. How nice of you.”

“Shut up. But if you insist on not taking advantage of your extra time in bed, or on not getting any work done, then by all means, come listen to me consult with Gaius on the restructuring of magical law. I’m telling you it’ll bore you to tears.”

Merlin looked thoughtful again. “That’s really it? You’re just going to ask him about how you should change the law?”

“Of course it is! I wouldn’t lie to you, Merlin.”

Merlin sighed, looking utterly miserable. “I know you wouldn’t. Alright, fine, go. I am tired. And you’ll tell me eventually anyway, so it’s not like I’m missing anything.”

Arthur finished tying the laces of his trousers and placed a quick kiss to Merlin’s lips. “Exactly. You’ll get the short version, after Gaius and I have come to a conclusion. Now quit looking so worried and go back to bed. I’m giving you a break for once; take it.”

Merlin’s body lost its defiant rigidness, and he rubbed his eyes as he sagged a little. “Yeah. Thanks.” He yawned and turned, padding back to bed and curling up just as another roll of thunder sounded outside.

Arthur sat down at the table to put on his boots. He’d miss Merlin’s presence, because he did have a busy day ahead of him, and Merlin surely would as well what with the rain, but he also thought Merlin deserved a rest. He’d seen the slump of Merlin’s shoulders and the weariness in his eyes the past few days, no matter how often Arthur tried to cheer him up with good-natured teasing. A few extra hours’ sleep was probably what Merlin needed.

Maybe he needed something else as well? The last time they’d lain together was weeks ago, because after days of tiresome reading, they both wanted nothing more than to fall right to sleep. Perhaps Arthur would have Merlin ready a bath tonight and they’d relax properly. Merlin always loved baths.

Arthur hurried through the corridors to Gaius’s chambers, and noticed the weather outside was about as bad as he’d feared. The sky was dark and foreboding without a single trace of the sun. Arthur again thought it was unnatural. Merlin may have known as much about magic as Gaius, but he hadn’t even looked out the window when telling Arthur it was fine. Arthur struggled to believe this wasn’t an act of sorcery.

Gaius’s door was open when Arthur reached it, and the man himself was just clearing away breakfast dishes at his table when Arthur entered.

“Good morning, sire.”

“Good morning, Gaius. I’ve come to tell you I feel the research is completed. I’ve done quite enough reading, enough to last me the rest of my life.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, sire. I’ve often found that reading keeps the mind sharp,” Gaius remarked, gesturing for Arthur to sit. “But it’s certainly good to hear you’re ready to move on. I assume you’re here because you have a few concerns.”

Arthur nodded as he sat on a stool by the workbench. “You were there before the Purge. I was wondering if you could give me a first-hand account of sorts. I was thinking of implementing a return to those standards, but with tighter restrictions in place about which type of magic is accepted. I want magic users to be able to thrive, but not to the point that they’re encouraged to become too powerful and pose a threat to the kingdom.”

“I understand. That sounds perfectly reasonable, sire.”

“Start with why it was banned in the first place. I know that magic killed my mother and that’s why my father hated it so much, but what kind of magic was it? I’ve searched through all the texts and couldn’t find anything completely evil.”

Gaius frowned, but said nothing. Arthur waited patiently for as long as he could, guessing that maybe the old man was just trying to wade through the fog of memories, but eventually he had to give at least a nudge.

“Gaius?”

“There...is a reason why you did not find anything of the sort,” Gaius finally said. “Many books and magical artefacts were destroyed in the Purge, those dealing with dark magic being among the first, in order to ensure that it was never learned.”

“Dark magic?” Arthur was certain he would’ve found a book on such a subject in all his research, or that Merlin would’ve brought it to him and translated it if necessary. “What do you mean by dark magic?”

“I’m sure you remember when you fought the skeletons.”

“Ah.”

“Yes. That was a form of necromancy. There’s also the terrible practice of blood sacrifice, and another kind of magic that deals with possession.”

Now Arthur was starting to remember. His father had often gone on about dark magic in his rants, but he’d never explained how it was any different than regular magic. Arthur had grown up lumping it all together. He saw the difference now, of course, but then...

“Is dark magic the sort that corrupts the soul?” Arthur asked.

“Only in the way that it is very addicting,” Gaius explained. “Those who practise dark magic gain a tremendous amount of power, and as is usually the case, are reluctant to give it up. I don’t believe they become truly evil. They simply lose themselves to the power it gives them.”

“Have all these books been burnt? I think that may have been one of the things my father did right. I certainly don’t want this threatening Camelot.”

“I agree, sire. Unfortunately, it’s impossible to say if all the volumes have been destroyed. And there are those still living who retain the knowledge.”

Arthur sighed. “If only I could talk to Emrys about this. I’m sure he’d have an idea of how to handle the threat. I don’t want to put too much faith in him, but perhaps he’s powerful enough for this not to be too much of a concern.”

Gaius remained silent, simply staring at Arthur calmly.

“I wish he would talk to me,” Arthur continued. “According to the druid, we’re supposed to be building Albion together. This hardly feels like a cooperative effort.”

“I agree, sire,” Gaius said. “But perhaps Emrys has his reasons.”

“They had better be some damn good reasons.”

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

“Onhǽte þá wæter.”

Merlin stuck his hand into the tub and smiled in satisfaction. The water was perfect. Now if Arthur would just get here...

Merlin sighed as he went to the window, and idly watched the goings-on of the castle courtyard. The sun had long since set, and the only time Merlin had seen Arthur today was when he’d looked out the window to see Arthur welcoming the drenched knight patrol back on the castle steps. Luckily the rain had settled to a light drizzle by then, but the men had looked so miserable that Merlin had decided he’d draw a bath for himself and Arthur that night. Both of them could benefit from it, Merlin thought.

But now, waiting for Arthur to return from whatever kingly duty he was engaged in, Merlin worried maybe his surprise was ill-planned. Maybe he should use the tub alone then have another servant take it away. Maybe they should just sit down and Arthur could tell him what he and Gaius had talked about. Not that Merlin hadn’t run straight to Gaius to find out as soon as he woke up, but still.

Arthur entered then, and Merlin spun on his heels toward him. Arthur’s face broke out in a smile when he saw the tub and he bolted the chamber door behind him before walking over.

“I was just thinking it was time for a bath,” Arthur said as he neared it. “I hadn’t seen you today to tell you. I’m glad you seemed to know anyway.”

Merlin crossed the room and knelt down to take off Arthur’s boots. “You were kind enough to let me sleep in this morning, and I thought I’d repay you. Not to mention that we could both use it.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

Merlin stood up and Arthur raised his arms, letting Merlin pull his tunic over his head. Merlin started to undo the laces of Arthur’s trousers when Arthur pushed his hands away.

“Take off your tunic first,” Arthur said at the confused expression on Merlin’s face.

Merlin reached up to remove his neckerchief while Arthur watched. This was different from what they usually did; usually Merlin undressed Arthur, Arthur got in the bath, then Merlin joined him after undressing himself. But apparently Arthur was set on treating Merlin as an equal lately, or at least making an effort to bridge the gap. Merlin didn’t think it necessary—he’d mostly meant it when he told Arthur it didn’t bother him much—but he wasn’t going to complain.

Once Merlin had his tunic off, Arthur went at his own laces, undoing them and nodding for Merlin to do the same. And then they were both bare, stripped of everything.

Merlin loved this moment the most, loved the way their garments fell to the floor with a whisper, like a physical expression of the boundaries between them melting away. Arthur the king became Arthur the man, and Merlin similarly cast off his roles. He was no longer Emrys the warlock or Merlin the manservant; he was just Merlin.

As they slid into the perfectly warm water, Merlin’s magic thrummed happily through his veins. His magic always seemed most pleased when he and Arthur lay together, and it was as though it could sense the incoming connection, pulsing excitedly in time with his heart. It yearned for Arthur’s touch as much as Merlin did.

Merlin sighed and settled back into the comfortable cradle of Arthur’s body, dipping his knees briefly under the water before letting them resurface.

“You should wash your hair,” Arthur said into Merlin’s neck, breath ghosting over Merlin’s skin. “Don’t think we got around to it last time.”

Merlin hummed contentedly as Arthur pressed kiss after kiss down his throat, and raised one of his wet hands to reach back and slide his fingers into Arthur’s hair.

“Wash it for me?” Merlin breathed.

“Move forward a bit.”

Merlin slid forward, reluctantly moving out of position and sitting with his legs curled up to his chest. He heard the splash of water as Arthur raised his arm to reach over the side of the tub to grab the cloth and soap, then the splash of the cloth being soaked and lathered. Merlin tilted his head back and closed his eyes, waiting for the wet warmth to pour over his scalp.

He flinched a bit the first time Arthur wrung the water out into his hair, but then relaxed. He felt his hair mould to his head, felt the water drip down his spine. Arthur repeated it twice more, until Merlin’s hair was thoroughly soaked with soapy water.

And then there were Arthur’s strong, sure fingers combing over his skull, working the soap into it with slow purpose. Merlin couldn’t help but sigh again, his magic so content that Merlin briefly worried he might start actually glowing.

“You’re always happiest in the bath,” Arthur murmured.

“Mmm. Aren’t you?”

“Maybe. I can’t decide which I like better, watching you while I bathe you or watching you sleep.”

Merlin nearly chuckled, but then, Arthur always had liked taking care of people in some way or another, even if he’d be the last to admit it. It was what made him a good king, because he cared about Camelot’s citizens. Was it really so surprising to hear that Arthur enjoyed seeing Merlin taken care of, or that he liked seeing Merlin safely in his bed, peacefully sleeping without worry?

“I know which one I prefer,” Merlin replied.

“I’m sure you do.”

Arthur’s fingers left Merlin’s scalp, and Merlin instinctively squeezed his eyes shut tighter in preparation. Arthur’s cupped hands poured water over his head, again and again until all the soap was rinsed out. Merlin let his head fall forward, resting it on his knees while he listened to Arthur washing himself with the cloth behind him.

“I want you to write the speech, if that’s alright,” Arthur said a few moments later, after he’d finished with himself and applied the cloth to Merlin’s back.

“What speech?”

“For when the law is changed.”

Merlin felt his stomach give a painful twist. “Oh.”

“Do you not want to?”

It wasn’t that Merlin didn’t want to. He’d actually had dreams about Arthur asking him, had spent countless days thinking about the words for when the time finally came. He’d simply imagined Arthur asking him some other time—certainly not while they were in the bath.

And he hadn’t imagined how caught up in his own lie he’d be.

“I do. But are you sure?” Merlin asked.

“You’ve written speeches for me before.”

“This is different. This is bigger. I thought maybe you’d want to do it yourself,” Merlin admitted. “Is it really a job for a servant?”

That must have been the wrong thing to say, because the hand washing Merlin’s back abruptly disappeared and forced Merlin to turn around. Arthur was frowning, his brow furrowed in hurt and worry.

“I thought I made it clear that you’re more than just a servant, Merlin,” Arthur said. “You told me—”

“I know I’m more than just a servant. Arthur, I’m in the bath with you, we sleep in the same bed every night. How could I not know?”

“So why would you ask me that?”

“Because I’m not...I’m not important.”

Arthur’s eyes widened so much it was almost funny. “What? What the hell do you mean—How could you think—What?”

Merlin opened his mouth but then promptly shut it again. He couldn’t say what he wanted to, that it was only his magic that gave him any real significance, and that since Arthur didn’t know about it, he therefore couldn’t be of any importance. Even if Arthur declared otherwise, that’s really all Merlin was to him, wasn’t it? Just the ordinary, clumsy servant that Arthur had happened to fall in love with. Nothing special about him, not at all. Nothing important. How could Arthur see him any differently if he didn’t really know him?

Arthur seemed to be almost angry, his nostrils flared and his breath coming heavily for a few seconds before he calmed himself. Then he raised a hand and cupped the back of Merlin’s neck, forcing him to look him in the eyes.

“Merlin, you really are stupid sometimes,” he said. “I love you. I trust you. I’m not sure what this kingdom would be without you. Sure this Emrys person has saved my life a few times, and we have this grand destiny together, but you’ve always been by my side. You’re the most important person in the world.”

Merlin almost told him. He felt the words stuck in his throat, on the tip of his tongue, screaming in his head.

I’m Emrys. I’m Emrys!

It would be easy to say, to blurt it out right then.

I’m Emrys. I have magic. I am magic.

But Merlin didn’t. It was more than the fact that their bathing ritual felt almost sacred, and that exposing himself for the liar he was while engaging in their happiest act would taint it. However, that was only a small part of it really.

He mostly didn’t say it because it didn’t feel like the right time. They were both too caught up in the moment, and Merlin didn’t want to say it in the midst of emotion. He had decided earlier that he’d wait until after the ban was lifted, and that was what he was going to do. He would tell Arthur calmly, in as clear a voice as possible, and he would suffer whatever consequences came then.

He also hesitated because Arthur had just said he trusted him. How could he reveal that he was undeserving of that trust so soon after hearing those words?

“I don’t...I mean, I’m not sure how you see it that way,” Merlin said slowly. “But thank you. I’d love to write the speech for you.”

Arthur sighed in exasperation, then picked up the cloth from the bottom of the tub and pulled Merlin to him, cradling him again.

“And I’m not sure how you could see yourself in so negative a light,” Arthur said. “You deserve more than what I give you.”

Merlin chuckled a little. “At least you finally see that.”

“I did want to give you something,” Arthur admitted as he wiped the cloth over Merlin’s chest. “You’ve already turned down the title of consort, but I thought money maybe, or land—”

“What the hell would I do with land?”

“Exactly. I couldn’t think of what you could possibly want.”

I want you to know who I am. I want you to see the real reason why I’m important. To know everything I’ve done for you, not as Emrys, but as Merlin.

“I just want this,” Merlin said, letting his head fall back onto Arthur’s shoulder. “You said it yourself, I’m happiest in the bath. Shut up about everything else and just bathe me.”

Merlin refused to let their time together as just Arthur and Merlin be ruined with more speech that reminded him of his lies. He slid back a bit more, until he was tucked comfortably between Arthur’s legs, and closed his eyes as Arthur washed him.

He had hoped the mood wasn’t utterly shattered, because he did still want to finish the night the way he’d planned. It would still be difficult, still feel a bit wrong, but after the past few weeks, Merlin needed the released tension more than anything. He needed to forget himself, to be just Arthur’s Merlin in every possible way.

Even though Arthur didn’t know the exact specifics of why Merlin needed it, he clearly knew that Merlin did. He hadn’t even bothered to rinse away the soap still on Merlin’s skin before his hand began drifting downward, caressing over Merlin’s stomach and making for his cock. And because Merlin had been pent up with energy waiting for this moment since the beginning, he was already half hard. It took little time for him to fill in Arthur’s firm, stroking grip, every tug adding to the warm pleasure in his groin.

He moaned appreciatively when Arthur started mouthing at his throat again, and when Arthur began stroking faster, the water making the slide so much better, his moans quickly became sharp, little gasps of breath. He kept his eyes closed, but he let his hand drift up again, curling in Arthur’s hair as he held tight and jerked his hips up enough to have the water splashing loudly in the tub.

“Don’t know which I like more,” Arthur said into his ear. “When you’re forceful and demanding or breathless and needy. Both definitely have their appeals.”

“The—ah!” Merlin tensed, his back arching when Arthur thumbed the slit of his cock. “The w-water’s cold.”

Arthur chuckled. “Is that your subtle way of saying you want to move to the bed?”

“I could be less subtle and say I want you to fuck me.”

Arthur moaned into Merlin’s throat, then used his hands to rinse the soap from Merlin’s skin so hurriedly that Merlin laughed. Arthur stood without another word, pulling on Merlin’s arm to urge him up with him.

Arthur tried to steer them directly to the bed but Merlin slipped out of Arthur’s grasp, giggling when Arthur groaned.

“You know you’re going to complain if we have to sleep in a wet bed afterwards,” Merlin said. “Come here and let me dry you off first.”

Arthur clearly wanted to complain now, but saw the prudence in it. Merlin picked up the towel and rubbed first Arthur dry, then himself. Of course, Arthur wouldn’t stop kissing Merlin all over while he did it, so Merlin ended up being still a bit damp when he finally gave in and let Arthur pull him to the bed.

When he was face down in the duvet, his knees spread and his arse bared to Arthur, he wondered how they would do it tonight. It felt like a guilty pleasure when Arthur started kissing down his back, marking a trail down his spine until he reached the end and placed a slow kiss to his hole. Arthur’s tongue laved over the pinched skin, and Merlin shuddered and keened, instinctively pushing back for more, but Arthur chuckled and pulled away.

“Not tonight,” Arthur said, caressing Merlin’s thigh soothingly. “It’s been a long day, otherwise I’d do it, open you up nice and slow.”

There was a shift in weight on the bed and then an oily finger replaced Arthur’s tongue, pushing in and making Merlin inhale sharply. But then Merlin repeated the action he had before, pushing back into it and taking it deeper. Arthur didn’t pull away when he chuckled this time.

He started pumping his finger in and out, swirling it and loosening up the clench. Merlin curled his fingers in the duvet, trying to breathe evenly as he felt the stretch, and let pain give way to pleasure.

Merlin wished they would go slow tonight. He wanted to be pulled apart piece by piece and spread thin, and his magic seemed to want it as well. But he agreed that it had been a tiring day, a tiring few weeks even. This wouldn’t be the long, drawn out sex they had after a few hours holding court or on mid-winter evenings by the fire. This would be neither slow nor hurried; it would simply be. And it would be passionate, exactly what each of them needed to rest their minds.

So as Arthur rubbed a little more oil into the cleft of Merlin’s arse, adding to the slickness still left over by both the bath water and Arthur’s tongue, Merlin cleared his thoughts and tried to forget the lies and the mask of Emrys. He let Arthur wrap an arm around his middle to pull him up and back a bit, let Arthur tear away the idea and be left with nothing but the man as he was breached and entered slowly. And when Arthur started his sweet slide out and back in, slow to ease the initial pain, Merlin didn’t let himself think of this as another betrayal.

Arthur went slow at first, his thrusts deep and languid, but he knew how Merlin liked it, hard and just a little bit rough. Eventually he grabbed hold of Merlin’s thighs and quickened the pace, giving sudden snaps of his hips to plunge in and drive all the breath out of Merlin as he took it.

One of Merlin’s hands stayed fisted in the duvet, but the other he moved to grip Arthur’s thigh, because he needed to feel the tautness of the muscles in Arthur’s legs as he thrust. He could feel the result in his arse, and hear the “nng—nng—nng” that was forced from his own throat, but he had to feel the source as well. Maybe it was because his magic loved being so acted upon by its king, and was already singing through his body, edging him closer to his peak.

“Arthur...Please...”

Arthur pressed a kiss to Merlin’s shoulder before increasing the tempo, giving up force for speed, and Merlin dug his nails into Arthur’s skin as the pressure built. His low moans once again turned into gasps, and now it was a race to the finish, one slap of flesh hardly done echoing before the next sounded. Merlin clenched around him, felt the stiffness of Arthur’s cock like a solid spear, but even if he didn’t he’d know Arthur was just as close as him. Arthur’s nails, like Merlin’s, had started to pierce skin as he held on, and his breath was coming just as quickly.

He only lasted a few strokes when Arthur finally reached under and touched him. It came rushing out of him, bursting forth with staggering intensity. His eyes rolled back in his head and his vision blurred, and he was only half-aware that Arthur had stopped thrusting to spill inside him. It was a few seconds before Merlin came back to himself and slumped to the bed, Arthur’s cock slipping free.

It was another few minutes of just lying there happily with his eyes closed before Merlin felt another shift on the bed, along with what must have been Arthur’s chin on his chest. He blinked his eyes open and saw Arthur break out into a wide grin, the kind that reminded Merlin of the playful prince Arthur used to be.

And then Arthur was slanting his eyebrows up, gasping, “Oh, oh, oh!”

Merlin cuffed his ear, but couldn’t help laughing. And alright, maybe he had deserved it. “I do not sound like that.”

“But you do. And I love it.”

Merlin stroked his hair, feeling happier than he had in a while. Maybe everything was going to be okay. Maybe he should stop worrying that Arthur would react poorly to the truth and hope that times like these made up for all the years of deceit.

Arthur slid away and came back with the damp cloth from the bath. Merlin raised his hips.

“Am I allowed to bring up Emrys again or should I wait until morning?” Arthur asked as he applied the cloth to Merlin’s arse.

Merlin swallowed. His magic was still very much pleased, and his arse was still throbbing from the last few frantic moments, but underneath the satisfaction now lay a coiled bitterness. Why did Arthur always have to pick the worst times to ask these sorts of questions? Just when Merlin had managed to distance himself from everything and feel at peace, reality came slamming back.

“Why?”

Arthur hesitated before speaking, wiping down Merlin’s stomach. “I need to meet him, Merlin.”

Merlin’s breath caught in his throat. “Why?” he repeated.

“Just once, before I lift the ban. I need to know he really exists. I need to see his power for myself. You can tell him I don’t need to see his face; it can be in the forest at night if that’s what he wants. But I need physical proof. Do you think he’ll understand that?”

Merlin did understand. To Arthur, like to everyone else, Emrys was an idea, a legend. Even Morgana was so frightened of him because she probably sometimes forgot Emrys was only human. It made sense that Arthur would want something a little more substantial than tales and hearsay.

“You really think I’m going to let you go out alone into a bandit-infested forest at night?” Merlin quipped as Arthur went about the room snuffing out candles. “And don’t give me that ‘I’m the best warrior in the realm, Merlin, I can handle a few bandits’ nonsense.”

Merlin got under the duvet, and as Arthur slipped into bed beside him, Arthur chuckled. “It’s true, though. But even if it wasn’t, Emrys will protect me.” He yawned and rolled Merlin over, sliding an arm around him. “Emrys always protects me,” he finished sleepily.

Merlin closed his eyes and frowned into his pillow. He could say it now if he wanted to, whisper it into the darkness. I’m Emrys. I’m real. Don’t hate me.

He didn’t say it.

He wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take.