Archive of Our Own ^beta

i

He couldn’t tell you how it started. One day he was fighting with the skinny boy with the big ears in the middle of Lower Town and the next he was fighting a man twice his size because he thought he could touch what wasn’t his.

Arthur doesn’t often go outside of Camelot disguised as just everybody else, but occasionally, he feels an urge to take the pulse of the people, see what they would say when they didn’t think anyone important was listening. Of course, he needs to take Merlin with him. For starters, the ride outside the stone walls is dull as dull can be. Merlin has his faults—many, many faults—but being a bore he is not. So, the two of them ride on their horses side by side, chit-chatting about nothing at all.

Sometimes Arthur can be in mid-conversation and have the same recurring thought. Before Merlin, there had been no one to do this with. To throw his head back and laugh, knowing no one was watching him and judging him and measuring him up to a father who will never approve of him enough for it to fill the gaps in his ribs. The truth of the matter is that Arthur’s never really had a friend.

Not really.

He has knights, people he trusts with his life and who entrust him with theirs. He has Morgana, but no matter how hard he hates it and tries to eradicate it, he thinks he’ll always be envious of how Uther loves her effortlessly when it’s always been a struggle for him. It’s hard to be as close as he wants to be when so much of their relationship is competition. 

It doesn’t matter either way. A mantra he’s had practice repeating and repeating. Princes don’t need friends. They can’t want them either. Duty is your first and only love. 

Merlin cuts himself off from his chattering and Arthur realizes he’s gone off in a daze.

“Arthur.” Merlin brightens, turning to him with a contagious excitement, “You don’t even know.”

“Know what?” Arthur’s stomach clenches, know what? Know what? What now?  

“The stable master got the cook’s daughter pregnant. And listen to this,” Merlin can’t even contain his glee as he finishes the story in a rush, “the big oaf tried to hide it, as though Yvette wouldn’t notice her own daughter’s belly getting bigger every day. When she found out, you should have seen her. She chased him all around the castle with a frying pan shrieking.” 

Merlin laughs, his eyes twinkling like the sky just before a rainbow. Arthur blinks the moment away before snorting, shaking his head, “Don’t sound too pleased Merlin.” He teases.

Merlin’s face twists derisively, “Don’t act like you like him any more than I do. I hope he gets chased out for good.”

“He really is rather surly,”  Arthur agrees. “Remember when we stole those horses after my father said not to leave and—” 

“And he tripped on his face trying to come after us? Of course I remember. Best night of my life.” Merlin snickers and Arthur feels that familiar grief for the child he never got to be once more.   

He’s never had a friend before, but if going on adventures and hatching schemes and matching wits was what it was all about, then maybe he could break the rules just this once. Maybe he could have just one thing that was his. Just for now. 

They approach the town, the brown and grey splotches in the distance solidifying into wood and stone, the rush and fuss of a busy community creating a comforting thrum of noise. Their horses trott in, the locals eyeing them with a brief suspicion as locals are oft to do before returning back to their washing or bartering. 

“I’m starved.” Merlin turns to Arthur with a familiar woe is me face.

Arthur rolls his eyes, “Do you ever stop complaining Merlin?”

“Depends. Do you ever want to treat your servant like a person and give him food after riding for hours straight?” 

“I could throw you in the stocks and aim the tomatoes right for your mouth if you’d like.” Arthur offers with a giant grin as Merlin scowls. “Suit yourself then.” he shrugs.  

Still, not being a total tyrant, Arthur leads them to what looks like a decent enough tavern, pointedly ignoring Merlin’s smile and little skip of joy as he slides off his horse. “Oh shut up Merlin.” He can’t help himself from saying as he pushes open the door just to slam it in Merlin’s face. 

“I didn’t even say anything.” He can hear Merlin gripe and can’t help the amused breath that comes through his nose. 

As he always does (he stops himself from thinking, and always would), Merlin bounds up behind him, at his side. Arthur leads them to a table with a bad leg, top wobbling every time he so much as moved a knee. A barmaid comes up to them soon after, taking their order for something to eat and drink just to tell them they’d eat whatever was on hand. The barmaid tries to chat some more, but Merlin has already gone off somewhere else, eyes staring off into something Arthur can’t see. 

He does that sometimes.

To Merlin’s face, he’d say something like, how much of an idiot are you? That you can’t pay attention to anything around you? But to himself, in the privacy of his own head where not even his father can get him, he wonders about the boy with big ears and bigger heart and where his thoughts go when he thought no one was looking. 

Arthur’s looking though. He looked more than Merlin or probably anyone else thought he did. He can’t help it. There’s just something about him, something Arthur can’t put a finger on. Something that leaves him starving for more. 

Merlin notices him staring and startles out of his reverie, flashing him a sheepish smile. “Sire?”

Arthur lets out a little snort. Sire . Please. 

He wants to ask what he was thinking about. But the question itself feels like vulnerability so Arthur says nothing on the subject and instead, gives Merlin a light kick on the shin. “I was just thinking about whether you packed me my hunting knives.” 

Merlin’s brows furrow, before he points an accusatory finger at him, “Don’t you dare try and tell me that you told me to pack them.”

“I’m quite certain I did.” He replies haughtily.

“You most certainly did not.” 

The indignation is so furious and helpless all at once that Arthur can’t help but laugh just as their order arrives. “Dig in boys, it’s our speciality.” The barmaid winks and the two look down at their plate of slop before sharing a goofy look. 

While nursing his drink, Arthur stops, realizing they actually had left something behind. “Go fetch the waterskins would you. We should fill them up before we leave again.” 

This apparently, seems like a reasonable enough request and Merlin gets to his feet without even a tacit complaint. Arthur’s brows raise, huh, you see something new every day. But now that Merlin’s gone, he’s bored . Arthur taps his fingers on the table, eyes scanning the room for threats like he’s been trained to do since he was too small to understand the weight of violence. 

The barmaid and her husband are behind the counter, washing out cups and piling food onto plates. There is a string of old men at the bar side, smashing their overflowing cups together, ale spilling on the counter. In the corner, a family sits close together, eating from the same two plates with six different utensils.

Arthur’s gaze trails from one table to the next when he stops, eyes narrowed. When he walked in, the first thing he clocked was the group of three men with the dark eyes hunched over and whispering right next to the window. There’s only one now, his two friends having disappeared, which wouldn’t be odd, except that the one left behind keeps staring out the window then back at his drink, the back and forth betraying his thoughts.

He doesn’t look like he has a weapon but looks are deceiving—Arthur has the scars to prove it. The spot where Merlin should be is still empty and a creeping premonition fills his veins. He wonders if he’s manifested the worst just by thinking it, cursing himself when a yell splits the air. Arthur leaps to his feet moved by his heart alone. He throws his body through the door, jaw tightening so harshly his teeth clack together. 

The two men from the tavern have engulfed Merlin, the first with his fists scrunched around Merlin’s jacket. He lifts Merlin up and shoves him against the wall. Arthur watches the breath leave Merlin’s lungs and one moment he was at the door and the next, he’s thrown himself at the man, his elbow locking around his throat as he pulls. 

The rage inside him feels almost solid, like he could carve it out of his chest and turn it into a weapon. A murderous instinct he’s only felt in battle roars in his head and Arthur feels the man wheezing between his arms. Good, he thinks. 

He’s never liked it when people touched what was his.   

“Get away from him!” the command rips out his throat.  

“Arthur!” 

He wishes he could have yelled something back, a witty remark or joke, but the second man has thrown a punch to his kidney and his body crumples to the side. With that opening, the first pulls out his sword and in dodging, Arthur hits his head against the same wall that Merlin did. The man smiles like he’s accomplished something, before fear sparks when Arthur snaps his head back up, eyes ablaze. The adrenaline shoots through his blood like a flood and his senses sharpen. In the split second between him closing his eyes and them flashing open, Arthur sees both men frozen in space and time and knows exactly what he must do. 

Arthur ducks and the sword lodges in the wood. Smirking, he soars, knocking the man’s arm away, his weapon dangling uselessly. He dodges a punch, then two, before getting an angle under the man’s chin and feeling the satisfying crack as his fist hits the top of his throat. The man gasps, clutching at his neck, staggering. Spinning around, Arthur catches the second man’s fist and grips it, spinning him around so he smashes into the wall with a crack.

Around them, the townspeople have begun to gather, some looking friendlier than others. It occurs to him then, that perhaps they’ve outstayed their welcome. That he doesn’t know who these men are or what they mean to this town. 

“Merlin! The horses!” Arthur yells and Merlin, who had been frozen watching him, snaps to attention, untying the bridles.

The men groan and Arthur remembers the pain on Merlin’s face. He gives them both a good kick while they’re down, glaring at them before running towards his steed and mounting his saddle in one elegant sweep. Merlin is already on his horse, which is in itself surprising, but he’s looking at Arthur with confusion mixed with something else Arthur can’t place.

“Well come on Merlin, we haven’t got all day, let’s go!” he commands and the horses shoot off. 

They get at least a half an hour ride out before they slow down the pace to a gentler trot. Merlin still doesn’t look normal, nor has he spouted off his usual nonsense, so Arthur sighs, long and dramatic because he can, “What is it Merlin?” 

Merlin frowns, “I just…I’ve never seen you…” he can’t seem to find the words and Arthur sighs again.

“Well? Spit it out Merlin, you’ve never seen me what ?” 

Merlin’s mouth opens and closes, like a particularly unattractive fish, before he blurts out, “It’s just, you usually try to do the whole, excuse me, do you know who I am thing and get all,” his hands wave around, “you know, princely .”

Arthur’s puff of laughter brightens his whole face, “What?” 

“You know! Whenever anything happens, you always think just standing there with your sword out and your whole,” Merlin gestures to him vaguely, “Pendragon-ness will have everyone stop in their tracks.” 

“Well,” Arthur says after a pause, “it usually works.” 

Merlin looks at him as though to say, yes, I know, that’s my point ,and Arthur shrugs, turning away. Suddenly, looking at Merlin straight on has become a near impossible task. His grip tightens around the reins. He glances at Merlin from the corner of his eye, unable to help himself. There’s a bruise forming along Merlin’s jaw and the spark of anger flares up again.

“If you wanted me to wait to rescue you, I can do that next time if you’d like.” Is what he’s finally able to say instead of the sentimental dribble that fights its way up his throat. 

Merlin doesn’t respond and Arthur shrugs, trying to ease the moment that he doesn’t understand. “I couldn’t very well just stand there looking authoritative if no one knew I had any authority. I wasn’t about to waste time while you got hit sideways to Sunday trying to prove I was a real prince.”

“Well,” Merlin says after a pause, “thank you.” he grins, “Only got hit sideways to Tuesday didn’t I?”

They share a half laugh.

“Don’t worry Merlin.” Arthur says magnanimously, turning around to give him a boyish grin, “I won’t tell anyone that you’re a damsel that needs saving. If you ever need rescuing again, be sure to scream extra loud so I can come running. I’ll be there in a heartbeat.”

He’s not so sure he’s joking anymore.

“That’s rich coming from the man I had to save from drowning after being enchanted by a—“

Arthur’s scandalized.

“We said we were never going to speak of it again!”

“No, you said we were never going to speak of it again, I for one would love to bring it back up. In fact!” Merlin drones on and on and Arthur yells and Merlin yells back and it’s so easy that Arthur almost lets the thought that sprouted in his heart form in his mind.

He quashes whatever it might have been and focuses on the breeze running past his ears and the smell of the leather in his hands and oh, there’s Merlin’s laugh, picked up by the breeze and brushing against his cheek. His lips turn up without him telling them to and it’s too late isn’t it? It’s just too late.

“Look who’s off in their own head now.” Merlin teases and Arthur snorts in response.

“It’s called having thoughts Merlin. I’m sure you’re not familiar.”

He can let Merlin go at any time and Arthur’s still just a prince. It’s fine

It’s utterly and totally fine.

ii

Arthur’s never cowered before his father. Not even when he was little and his father towered over him, his shadow darkening Arthur’s own face. The key he thinks, is a faith in his ideals so bright it blinds him to the fury in Uther’s eyes he knows has brought lesser men shaking. 

Maybe he’s wrong, maybe nothing he believes in is right. Maybe his father always knows best and he’s too weak to rule a kingdom, too emotional to be rational. But he sees the servant girl—Mary— crying quietly in her hands and doesn’t believe he could be.

“They’re terrorizing members of our household trying to interrogate them for information. They must be stopped.” Arthur repeats, not daring to breathe as Uther whips towards him. 

“We don’t have the resources.” He repeats, for the hundredth, millionth time in Arthur’s life. “The staff should refrain from leaving the castle walls if they feel so unsafe.” 

Flabbergasted, Arthur doesn’t try to hide it, “We can’t expect them to put their whole lives on hold because we refuse to go and help. If you don’t want to send the knights that’s fine, I’ll go myself.” He raises his chin, jaw tight.

Uther’s anger has him in such a hold he can’t speak for a moment. “Did you not listen to a word I said? You will do no such thing!” 

He’s been told all his life that he will never measure up. That there are mountains of expectations and he will never be tall enough. Arthur’s never cowered, but he’s always been afraid. He hopes the kind of king he will become will be kinder. He hopes he lives long enough to see it. 

Arthur cannot cower. The child in him is still so afraid. But Mary’s still sobbing.

“And yet I must.” 

The fury in Uther’s eyes is terrifying.

Arthur turns around, not needing to look to know that Merlin has run next to him. He thinks he’ll look back at his father, yelling his name, with a look of nervousness. But Merlin’s jaw is high, expression set. He’s with him until the end. It’s not a bad consolation prize.  

“Ready the horses.” Arthur says, because he’s never known how to say thank you. 

What a sad thing to learn so late in his life that sometimes people will help him because of him and not his blood. He isn’t quite sure what to do with that.  

“Yes sire.” Merlin looks like he’s about to leave before he stops, “I know you don’t care or anything, but I’m proud of you. For what you said to Uther.” Merlin looks at him and Arthur has to fight not to look away. “I know that must have been hard.”

Arthur struggles to hide the flash of warm surprise from his face, but he knows his eyes have betrayed him. He scoffs, turning his back to Merlin. “You know what I do care about Merlin? You having us ready in time before the sun sets completely and we’ve lost a whole day of searching time.”

He already knows Merlin’s rolling his eyes without having to turn and look, “Yes, yes, right away my lord.” He replies, in that special way where titles still sound like insults.

Arthur takes a step and then stops, Merlin’s words echoing in his head. If he had a normal life, would words like his be so run of the mill they wouldn’t give him pause? If he had a normal life, would he need to worry about being brave in front of the man who raised him? What if, what if, what if. Arthur shakes his head. He has no need for hypotheticals or questions with no answers.

I’m proud of you.

Maybe he needed a few more of those. But he’d rather die than admit it and so he doesn’t.

Arthur joins Merlin out in the courtyard a little while later and is surprised to find that three knights are waiting as well.

“Your father said that if he could not keep you from going then he would provide you with our services.” Gabriel says.

The other two, James and William, nod alongside him, already on their horses. Arthur himself isn’t quite sure what to think but he sees Merlin’s furrowed brows and quiet resignation and thinks it’s just as well, Merlin’s rubbish with a sword.

He makes a note to keep up with the sword lessons for him and swings atop his mare. “Alright then, let’s go. We only have a few hours of daylight left, let’s not waste them.” 

They’re riding for the outlying village of Aurelia where the group of men looking for inside information into Camelot were last spotted. The woman, Mary, had come to them sobbing for help after her husband had been murdered. Witnesses told her the men had been pressing him for information on entrances into Camelot before they gave up and slit his throat when he would not speak a word about it.

Sometimes, Arthur doesn’t understand why the people are loyal to their rulers. 

Jospeh died a hero’s death. He left the world with honour and courage. 

He left a wife. A child too. 

What’s worth more than a kingdom? 

Arthur sees Mary’s tears and wonders if they taste as bitter as the hardened parts of his heart. He raises a fist and the knights come to an immediate halt. Merlin’s horse keeps on trotting on and Arthur sighs, “Merlin. Do you ever pay attention?” 

Merlin starts, twisting in his saddle to give him a sheepish grin, “Sorry. Shall I make camp then?” 

Arthur’s expression must say it at all as Merlin scampers to fulfill his duties and Arthur rubs his palm against his eye, thinking about all the things he has to do and how unable he feels to do them. 

He doesn’t want to think, so watches Merlin hand the bow and quiver of arrows over to William so he can go hunt them some game before he sets out unpacking the horses. It’s a warm night and Arthur wanted to pack light so there’ll be no elaborate tents to be made. He watches Merlin stoking the fire, his face pinched in concentration and something like fondness grows inside him. “Having trouble Merlin?” he calls and grins when Merlin shoots him a scathing look. 

“No.” he defends, “The wood is just being difficult.” Merlin gives the stack a particularly spiteful stab and the flame sputters before it sparks.

Merlin lights up and turns to Arthur with a smugness that Arthur wishes he found more annoying. “Well, well, bet you regret your words now don’t you sire?” he needles. 

“Maybe if the flame wasn’t so pathetic.” Arthur retorts and the tension leaves his shoulders as Merlin flops down next to him, sticking his feet out near the flames, wiggling his toes. 

“I brought you something.” Merlin says, leaning back on his hands, head tilted upward so that his cheekbones look even sharper than usual. 

The light dances in Merlin’s eyes. It only makes him look ethereal.

“Oh?” Arthur tries to sound nonchalant, ripping his gaze away. 

“Yes, something I think you’d enjoy very much.” Merlin’s chin points to the sky, looking chagrined, “Too bad you’re too much of a prat for me to want to give it to you.” 

“Oy.” Arthur laughs, shoving him with his shoulder, “You can’t talk to me like that remember?”

“And yet I must.” Merlin intones seriously and Arthur’s eyes go even wider with disbelief.

Merlin peeks up from beneath his fringe, his eyes crinkled and Arthur lunges for him but Merlin’s too quick, too used to his antics. “Now, now sire.” Merlin chides, “You need to keep your strength up! No point in wasting it all on me.” 

“Please. Like I’d need more than my pinkie to subdue you Merlin.”

“You’re welcome to try.” Merlin teases.

He’s brushing the dirt from his pants but there’s something in his gaze that makes Arthur feel every breath. They keep looking at each other, something like gravity or magic or something something that keeps Arthur from breaking hold until a branch cracks and Arthur whips around, hand already at his sword when he sees it’s only William. 

Arthur calms, turning back just in time to see a look of unfiltered affection on Merlin’s face before he hides it. Arthur stares at him more, hoping to see it again, but it never reappears. 

When it’s time to sleep, he lies down, body parallel to the fire and hears rather than sees Merlin lie down next to him, head perpendicular to his own. It’s comforting in its consistency, the routine they’ve built together. 

“You should move,” James says and Arthur’s eyes open.

He can see James looming over Merlin and tenses without meaning to. 

“What for?” Merlin presses.

James frowns, “It’s not your place to be questioning a knight.” 

Merlin sits up and Arthur already knows he has a sarcastic retort on his tongue and interrupts just in time. “What is it, James?” 

“It would be best if he slept on the other side.” James replies, head bowing ever so slightly in respect, “William and I will take the spots by your head and feet in case we get ambushed in the night.” 

Arthur’s sat up at this point, face pinched in confusion. “It’s fine.” he waves a hand, “Even if something happens, we’re all close enough.” 

“I must insist, sire. The King would want us to do as much as we can to ensure you are protected.”

Merlin looks at James, but his expression is unreadable. Arthur frowns, tired and missing his bed and is about to snap when Merlin gets up, “It’s fine. Careful of the rock.” It sounds like advice, but Arthur knows it for what it is.

Merlin settles across from Arthur, the fire between them. He curls up around himself, head resting on his bag, eyes determinately closed. James and William grunt as they lower themselves in place and Arthur feels strangely isolated between his father’s men. People may envy him for being a prince, but he envies people who know when they look around a room they’re among people who would choose them. 

Being a prince to a king is to be second in everything you do and everything you will be. These men follow him because Uther tells them to. He may be Camelot’s First Knight but they are still not his. Not really. Not in the way it counts.

His gaze falls to Merlin once again. How familiar he is, Arthur thinks. Like a token wrapped around his arm. Merlin’s eyes are closed and Arthur forces his to do the same. Tomorrow will be filled with challenges anew and perhaps there was some accidental wisdom to Merlin’s taunting from before.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep in between all his intertwining thoughts but he knows he’s awake when he hears the tell-tale sound of a sword being pulled from its scabbard as he lurches awake to do the same. There is sleep still in his eyes but the second his sword clangs against the enemy’s, the reverberation shoots up his arms and he’s never been more alive.

There’s yelling all around him and on instinct, he twists his neck to see if he needs to drag Merlin up from the ground, but he’s not to his right as he always is. The man before him roars, lifting his sword in an arc he must not realize gives away all his intentions. Arthur sidesteps the blow, taking his opening to pierce through the man’s kidneys. His sword pulls away bloody and the man cries out as he falls. 

He doesn’t have time to look around for his manservant as two more men swarm him and he realizes who they’ve been surrounded by. Well, well. Isn’t he lucky.

"Arthur Pendragon.” The man before him with the brown hair and black coat is positively cheery. “Can you imagine my surprise when my scouts told me that the one man who would be the answer to all our prayers arrived in our very own forest?”

“You must be Laurens.” Arthur replies, holding his sword level to the man’s neck though he’s too far away to cut him.  

“I’m honoured.”

“Don’t be, you’ll be struck through in just a moment.”

“I wouldn’t count on it. I know how fearsome the knights of Camelot are, I’ve brought more than enough men to take you on.”

As though taking a cue, someone jumps from the brush, pouncing on him and Arthur grunts as he takes the weight of his blow too low on his sword. 

“Don’t worry my lord, I promise a merciful death if you just tell me what I need to know.” Laurens smiles and it’s so sickly Arthur feels it in his innards.

He doesn’t waste time on a retort, just focuses on his swordsmanship and trying to get a sense of where everyone else is. In his peripheral vision, he sees Gabriel taking on his own enemies and catches a glimpse of Merlin waving around a sword in a way that’s certain to get it knocked out of his hands. 

Anxiety surges through him and Arthur’s sword misses its target. Scowling, Arthur sucks in a breath. Focus, focus. There! The tip of his blade slides past the man’s sword and stabs through his shoulder. Ignoring him, Arthur spins, trying to make it to Merlin to save his sorry hide before he trips over his own feet but there are more men than he can count and it never seems to end. 

An arrow whizzes past him and lands in the heart of the man who had just been sprinting towards him with a spear. Arthur blinks and sees William aiming his bow once more and lets out a little appreciative huff.  The tide is turning. He can see the end. Laurens must have too, to explain what happens next.

“Merlin! Get back here!” Arthur yells. 

Merlin’s too far out. Arthur doesn’t understand how he even got there, but he’s a cleared a path of bodies for him to run through and Merlin sprints. 

Arthur can see him getting closer, his gangly legs unable to keep in a straight line, but he’s coming, he’s coming, he’s—Laurens leaps from the left, clubbing Merlin so hard in the stomach that he topples, clutching at his waist. As soon as he falls, two men leap on him, tying his hands together and throwing him atop their shoulders. Merlin fights. He writhes and squirms and tries to kick, but the man holding him is built like a tree and his grip holds firm.

Arthur panics. He’s not ashamed to say that he does. It courses through his blood stream like needles and every breath is sharp in his mouth. He lurches forward but he’s so far, he’s so far. What is he supposed to do? Even if he runs, Laurens has his own horses. They’re going to ride out and—

“No need for the prince, this boy’ll do.” Laurens calls out, his laugh a cackle. “Servant to the prince hm? Probably knows all sorts of secrets with none of that knights code and honour nonsense.” He pats Merlin’s hair and Merlin throws himself out of his grip.

“Let me GO! I won’t tell you anything!” he swears vehemently, face all shadow. 

“Oh you will.” Laurens says darkly. “Have you ever been beaten boy? Because you will speak, no matter what it takes.”

Merlin pales and Arthur snaps. He can’t stand it. He won’t stand for it. This won’t happen. It can’t be happening. He should never have brought Merlin with him— though he’s always with him. They’re always together—until they’re not. 

But not today. 

Not like this. 

“William!” he yells, as his eagle eye finally lets him see the situation clearly and not through the prelude to grief.

There will be no mourners today.

“William! The bow!” his face is fervent and crazed he’s sure, but William snaps to attention quickly. 

“James, the horses!” Arthur’s already running to William, expecting James to follow. 

William will shoot at the tree man and James will bring the horses and Arthur will take both the horse and the bow and he will ride after them and—William knocks the arrow and his arms stretch back like wings. “Poor boy.” He says quietly, “I’m sure he served faithfully.” 

What? 

Arthur’s expression twists, “What are you—” 

William’s intentions become clear too late. The arrow flies just as Arthur shoves him and the arrow quivers in the air before flying right past Merlin’s head. Merlin’s eyes widen as he realizes what he’s just escaped and he yells Arthur’s name again, pleading with him to go. As if Arthur ever would. As if Arthur would ever watch him die. As if there’s a world in which they stop going back for each other.  

“What are you doing!” He yells at William and his heartbeat is thudding in his head and he feels like he’s outside his body and he doesn’t have time for this .

“Sire, I-” 

“Quiet! James!”

James appears with the horses and Arthur bends down to snatch the bow and quiver from the knight who’s still staring up at him with utter confusion. Arthur mounts quickly and kicks at the horse’s flank. Merlin’s been thrown atop a white horse and the group is riding quickly but Arthur is hot on their tail, furious like a falling star. 

He knocks another arrow. Archery’s never been his strongest sport it’s true, but he’s good enough. It’s between Merlin living or disappearing. He will be good enough.

He sees Merlin squirm until he locks eyes with Arthur and Arthur can see the relief clash swords with his worry. They speak without words.

I won’t hurt you.

I know.  

The arrow flies and hits his target. The man holding Merlin jolts forward as the arrow sticks out of his back. Arthur shoots another one and when the second lodges, the man stiffens before he falls, still on the forest floor. The horse keeps going and Arthur scowls but Merlin seems to understand what he was trying to do and snatches the reins. He tugs them sharply but the angle by which he’s lying has the horse bucking and he’s tossed to the ground, rolling amongst the leaves.   

Arthur winces and rushes to a stop next to him. “Are you injured?” 

Merlin groans, his tied hands rubbing at his face. “I feel broken.”

Arthur wants to sag to the ground with him. “You’re alright.” He says, for both their benefit. “You’ll be fine.” 

Arthur’s eyes snap up. Laurens’ face is contorted with rage and hate and things too vile for Arthur to name. Men like that don’t deserve to live. Men like that leave only misery where they go. He can taste Mary’s tears on his tongue, maybe it’s just the sweat, but his blood is hot and there’s a dead man on the ground and Merlin is with him where he should be.

What would Arthur’s tears taste like if Merlin had gone? 

He knocks the arrow. Aims it right for Laurens’ neck. 

He won’t ever find out. 

The arrow flies and hits his target true. Laurens dies without a word and around him, his men hesitate and flounder. “If you step foot in Camelot again, I will show you as much mercy as I showed him. Do you understand?” 

For a moment, it looks like the men will fight, but Arthur is covered in blood and he’s thrown the bow in favour of his sword. His eyes are dark, they scream of vengeance and violence. Why are people loyal to a king? Because sometimes they command you to, because something in your blood calls to theirs and you know the divine right to rule to be true.  

Or maybe it’s because they can see Arthur would relish the opportunity to rip them apart one by one and know that he could. There will be no more tears today. Not one drop. 

The men say nothing, but ride away one by one. Only when they’ve all turned tail and run does Arthur slide off the horse and crouch at Merlin’s side. He cuts his bonds with one slice and Merlin rubs at his wrists gratefully. “Let me see,” Arthur says quietly, hands reaching for the hem of Merlin’s shirt.

Merlin tightens his lips, his body tensing as Arthur lifts up the fabric to see the angry bruise along Merlin’s stomach and the cuts along his sides where he’d fallen among the branches. Arthur’s jaw tightens. He presses a hand gently to Merlin’s ribs trying to feel for any broken ones. “I’m fine Arthur.” Merlin grunts, “Really.” 

“You don’t get to be fine until I say you are,” He replies on instinct.

Merlin huffs but lets Arthur continue checking him until he’s satisfied. “And your ankles? Can you walk?” 

Merlin twists both feet experimentally and nods, “I should, yeah.”

Finally, finally, Arthur lets himself fall back and sigh, head falling toward the sun.

“I can’t believe you came after me with just yourself. What if something had happened??” The audacity of Merlin being angry at him right now is just rich . 

“Excuse me?” 

“You heard me.” Merlin repeats, face hard. 

“You don’t get to tell me what to do Merlin, in case you forgot for the hundredth time.”

Merlin looks cross, his expression nettled.

“Merlin, I’m not going to apologize for saving you.” Arthur looks at Merlin like he doesn’t understand him, “You really expected me to leave you?” he doesn’t mean for his question to come off pained, but it does.  

Merlin must have sensed the change in the air because he closes his eyes for a moment and when they open, his expression has unfurled like a flower from a bud. “No.” he finally admits, “I know you wouldn’t.” he tries to smile, “I suppose it isn’t fair to ask, considering I never leave when you ask me to either.” 

“That’s very true.” Arthur agrees and the two look at each other at the same time and can’t help the small puffs of laughter. 

“William was going to kill me wasn’t he?” Merlin muses, “To stop me from talking.” 

All at once, Arthur’s good mood evaporates. 

“Arthur, don’t be too hard on him.” Merlin’s hand rests on his forearm and Arthur stills. “He was just thinking about the good of Camelot even if it was a backwards way of showing it.” he pauses, “Well alright,” Merlin amends, “maybe be a little hard on him, but still he-” 

What’s worth more than a kingdom? 

“There are lines we don’t cross, Merlin.” Arthur’s voice is rough against his throat, “There are things that make victories hollow.” 

Merlin’s fingers curl hesitantly around him, one by one. His thumb rubs almost absentmindedly against his arm. It’s all Arthur can focus on. “There won’t be a victory if you’re not there to see it, Arthur.” He says quietly and the differences in their stations has never been more apparent. 

“Didn’t we already have this conversation before?” Arthur tries to joke, “I didn’t know you were still so keen to die for me.” He’s hoping they can laugh at a memory but Merlin’s face is still grave.

“You know I would.” 

Arthur knows. How can he forget. He’s seen Merlin dying too many times and each time is worse than the last. 

“Then I’ll keep saving you then.” Arthur declares, jaw setting in that stubborn way of his, “Again and again. Because I don’t want you to die for me or for anyone Merlin. No man is worth losing you over. Do you understand?”

Merlin’s expression shutters and Arthur swears he sees that special bloom of fondness before it’s gone again. “You’re always so dramatic, Arthur.” Merlin says and the moment is gone with the breeze. 

“Me??” he asks incredulously, “Have you not heard a single word you said?”

Arthur gets up, bending down to pull Merlin to his feet. “Come on then, let’s get back before you end up getting us into another scrape.” 

“Tell me how this is my fault again??” 

“Well if you hadn’t gotten absolutely demolished by one measly hit-” 

“Arthur, you saw the bruise.” 

“A warrior keeps going.” 

“Well good thing I’m not a warrior then isn’t it?"

“About that, we need to up your sword training. You’re absolutely abysmal Merlin, it’s embarrassing is what it is.” 

“No. No, you can’t make me.” Merlin turns his big pleading eyes towards him and Arthur shrugs as though he cares. 

“Funnily enough, I was born with the authority to make anyone do anything actually.”

“I hate you.” Merlin mutters, “I really do.” 

“Yes, yes, tell me that when you can actually parry three of my blows.” 

Merlin scowls and Arthur feels all is well. He helps Merlin atop the horse before getting behind him. “Lean on me.” He says and Merlin hesitates for just a second before leaning back. 

Arthur has the insane thought of wishing he wasn’t wearing his armor so he could feel the warmth of Merlin alive, alive, before he shakes his head of it. It’s been a long day. It’s barely even been a day. His arms come around Merlin to hold the reins and he sends the horse going back in a light walk to keep from jostling the man in his arms too much. 

When they arrive back at camp, Arthur can’t look at William for all the anger that pulses through him. He gives his orders to pack up as they’re going back and only when Merlin is out of sight, having insisted on filling the water skins, does Arthur turn to the three knights and order them to a stand stop.

“What happened today was—” Arthur can’t even find the words. He’s not sure the men before him would understand even if he had them. “What happened today can never, ever, happen again.” 

He turns to William, the full force of his disappointment and choler visible on his face. “We are knights of Camelot. We’ve been tasked to protect the populace, not murder them.” 

“But sire,” William has the audacity to say, “had they escaped, they would have had a treasure trove of information just waiting to be extracted.” 

“You would be hard pressed to find someone more loyal than Merlin.” Arthur’s eyes narrow, “And even had they escaped, I would stake my own life that he would’ve held off long enough for us to find him. Secondly, none of that matters, because your first instincts as knights should always be to protect and you have failed in that today and so have failed me.” 

William is quiet before he looks down at him, “With all due respect sire, we rode out on bequest of the King and it is the King to whom we must answer. A servant’s life for the safety of Camelot? There is no question. No man’s life is worth that.”

No question? Of course there’s no question because the answer is so painfully obvious it needn’t be asked. What’s a kingdom worth? Nothing, Arthur realizes. It’s worth nothing if in gaining it you lost yourself and everything that mattered. 

Later, he will think this about Morgana and his heart will break for her. 

These men will never understand. They’re not capable of it. They wear duty like status when Arthur knows it for what it is, a burden. It’s a responsibility he cannot shrug because no one else will cherish it the way he does, will respect it the way he does, will feel the weight of it in his hands as he places it on his head.

These men will never ride with him again. He can’t trust them. Won’t ever be able to trust them. No man is worth that? Merlin comes out from behind the trees and Arthur hopes he’s heard nothing of what was said. His ears are sticking out even more than usual and there’s the slightest flush of over exertion on his cheeks. Idiot, always pushing himself when he needn’t. 

Merlin is more than just a servant. So much more than Arthur could describe. But even if he wasn’t. Even if they’d just met. Even if he hated him. The kind of king Arthur wants to be would never let that boy die.

“Let’s go,” He commands and the knights walk away silently. 

Merlin comes closer to him, frowning slightly, “Arthur?”

“It’s fine. Come on, can you ride alone?” he changes the subject quickly and while Merlin’s frown deepens, he doesn’t say anything about it.

“Yeah, I think so. We didn’t get that far out anyway.” 

Arthur nods, clapping him on the shoulder. His hand can’t help but rest there and he squeezes it. “Let me know if the pain gets to be too much. No one needs a martyr.” 

“And you’ll never catch me being one.” Merlin quips and the sparkle is back in his eye and everything is okay. It is, it is. 

Halfway through their ride, Merlin brings his horse up to meet Arthur’s. “Since you so heroically saved me and all, I decided to give you the surprise I brought despite how much of a dollophead you were being yesterday.” 

“Seriously, Merlin? Even after I save your sorry hide, you’re going to call me names?”

“Past you was a dollophead.” Merlin says earnestly, “But present you is getting pretty close.”

“I’ll throw you in the stocks you know.” 

“You wouldn’t.” Merlin says, scandalized, “I have battle wounds.” 

Arthur snorts, “Alright then, what’s my surprise.” 

He sounds like a five year old, but no one’s around to hear it.

Merlin digs into his pocket and whips out a little cloth bag. “Open it.”

Arthur takes it from him suspiciously, jingling it around as Merlin gestures for him to get on with it already. He pulls open the drawstring and a giant grin spreads across his face. Merlin beams. “Candied pecans?? Where’d you get them!”

At this question, Merlin fidgets a little in his seat. “It’s best you don’t know probably.” 

“Merlin.” 

“It’s fine!! It’s just a little theft!” 

Arthur shoots him an incredulous look before popping one of the pecans in his mouth and sighing. “This makes it all worth it really. Imagine if Laurens had gotten his hands on these. Tragedy."

“Oy .”   

“What?” Arthur grins boyishly and Merlin shakes his head so Arthur won’t see his smile.

Arthur holds out the bag as a peace offering and Merlin pops a pecan in his mouth. “Damn.” He says while chewing, “These really are delicious.” 

Arthur watches him lick the sugar from his lips. “They are indeed.” 

iii

Morgana is missing. It’s been almost a year. Missing her feels like missing an organ and yet, Arthur carries on. He truly doesn’t know how. 

Merlin bursts into his chambers, the sunlight dancing across his hair. As usual, he’s far too cheerful and Arthur presses a pillow to his head in a pre-emptive strike. “Rise and shine!” Merlin chirps, throwing open the curtains even further and digging around in Arthur’s closet. 

“Is it?” Arthur groans, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“Lords Byron and Magnus are arriving today sire, that means a feast.” 

Arthur perks up a little at that. He doesn’t see Merlin’s dopey little smile.

“Fine. I’ll get up.”

“That’s the spirit.” 

Arthur trudges over to the bowl of water on the table that Merlin’s prepared, waking up the second the cold hits his face. Merlin hands him a towel and stands back, waiting for him to finish. “So for today,” Merlin starts, “I was thinking we should bring out the Pendragon red unless you want to wear your armor when they arrive?” 

Arthur makes a face, “My shoulder’s still sore from training yesterday, let’s avoid the armor.” 

Merlin frowns, lifting off Arthur’s sleep shirt to inspect it. “It hasn’t bruised…” he mutters to himself.

Merlin traces Arthur’s skin, fingers feather light before pressing his whole palm against his shoulder blade. Arthur lets out a little grunt and Merlin’s frown deepens. “Arthur, raise your arm for me.”

“What are you implying exactly? Because of course I can-” he chokes as the pain pulsates from the socket of his arm and he shuts up.

Merlin’s lip pulls, “You were saying?” 

He hates judgemental Merlin. 

“Shut up.” 

“I’m going to get you a poultice from Gaius. It should be fine after that, but you should avoid getting into any fights.” 

“Because I’m always trying to have a go at our guests.” Arthur snarks.

“I could list them in alphabetical order if you want me to, sire?” Merlin asks innocently and had his shoulder not been aching, Arthur would’ve chucked a shoe at him. 

Sensing that was the case, Merlin flashes him a snicker and darts out the door leaving Arthur waiting. He’s somehow made his way back to bed by the time Merlin arrives who just sighs, “Well, I was going to ask you to lie down anyway so it’s fine I suppose.” 

“You don’t give the orders here Merlin.” Arthur retorts on muscle memory. 

“Yes, yes, I live and die by you, my lord.” 

Arthur blows out a breath. Sure he does. 

“Turn on your stomach, Gaius gave me a salve instead of a poultice. I’ll need to apply it twice a day.” 

Grunting, Arthur turns over, trying not to wince as he does. Slowly, Merlin sits down beside him, feet dangling off the edge. Arthur can hear him opening up the container, the squish of Merlin’s fingers in the gel. He feels the cooling sensation before he feels Merlin’s fingers and he sighs into his pillow. 

Merlin rubs careful circles into Arthur’s skin starting from the topmost point of his shoulder and moving diagonally across. His fingers are long, strong too. Arthur’s never noticed. But they’re all he can think about now. Merlin pulls his hand back and Arthur almost protests before both hands come down to the base of his neck, pressing hard before sliding downwards. 

Arthur moans. He can’t help it. Had he really carried so much tension? Since when was Merlin even good at anything, let alone this good.

“Merlin, since when have you had any skills?” 

Merlin gives him a little pinch. “Maybe insulting the person whose hands are around your neck isn’t the wisest move.” 

“Kill me then. I’m too relaxed to care.” Arthur replies flippantly. 

He can feel Merlin’s breath on his back as he laughs. “I’d rather leave you like this actually.” He sounds almost endeared and Arthur sinks deeper. “Who knew you had such a docile side.” 

Merlin keeps touching him and Arthur feels like he’s being traced, like the contours of his skin are being memorized for a map he’ll never see. When Merlin is done, he leans back, slides the cap back onto the tub and puts just one finger on Arthur’s arm. “Try now.” 

It’s so quiet, Arthur can hear their breaths. It’s so warm, the sunlight streaming through the window. He feels like he’s in a dream, like time can’t be real. If he gets up, it will shatter. Merlin’s finger is still on him. He closes his eyes. 

Get up he must. 

He sits, their faces close together. Arthur lifts up his arm. Yes, he can move it, but only just. He feels the pain like it’s behind a cloth, hard enough to notice, but not sharp enough to hurt. “Tell Gaius he’s a genius.”

Merlin smiles and it feels like summer. “I’ll let him know. Now come on, let’s get you dressed and ready to go.”

Lords Byron and Magnus are nothing to write home about. They’re both portly and pompous and yet their lands are relatively prosperous, so perhaps Arthur can’t judge them too harshly. Lord Byron however, has a son, Edward. And Edward Arthur doesn’t much like at all.

Arthur greets all three of them in the courtyard with Merlin standing at his right, just slightly behind. Uther stands before them both, greeting the lords with warm smiles and hands clapping backs. Edward gets off his horse and shakes Arthur’s hand, a cocky smile at his lips. “Prince Arthur, a pleasure to meet you.” 

“Likewise.” Arthur’s done these before, it’s all rehearsed at this point. Just a big show.  

Arthur gives him a little background on Camelot, some news about the feast and where he can come and train with the knights if he wishes. He gestures to Merlin, “This is Merlin, my manservant. If your servants need assistance getting acquainted with anything, he can help them out.” 

Edward’s eyes roam from Merlin’s feet up to his face, a long languid look that has Arthur moving almost imperceptibly to his right. “How kind of you to offer my lord.” Edward says, “But we’ve only brought one servant with us and he is to take care primarily of my father.” 

He doesn’t make the ask, but Arthur knows what he wants. Unfortunately for him, Merlin is not anyone else’s to take. He’s saved from having to answer when Uther grabs him by the shoulder to introduce him and he tries to tamp down his relief. The four of them head back into the castle, Merlin trailing behind. 

At the feast, Merlin leans against the wall, keeping watch of the proceedings like he always does. It’s almost sweet really, the way he tries to be vigilant as though he had the power to do anything if something did arise. Occasionally, he’ll come up to fill up Arthur’s goblet, whispering something in his ear to make him chuckle, but the night passes with nothing of remark until Merlin is getting him ready for bed and takes hold of his wrist for just a second before letting him go. “You’re not going to give me to Edward are you? There’s something…off about him.” 

Arthur considers making a joke but decides against it. “Of course not. You’re my manservant. I don’t see why I have to share.”

Merlin breaks into a shy smile and something about it makes Arthur want to never look away so he does something that’ll make him. “Plus, I need you to clean my armour and muck out the stables so there’s really no time for you to be gallivanting off with anyone else.” 

Merlin’s expression drops and Arthur almost sighs from relief. “Of course my lord.” Merlin’s tone exaggeratingly subservient, “Anything for you.” 

“That’s what I like to hear.” 

That should’ve been that. But of course it never is. 

Merlin becomes shifty, jumpy. He keeps close to Arthur, staying in on meetings or events he normally wouldn’t think twice about skipping. He doesn’t look the visitors in the eye yet when Arthur looks at him, flips on a smile that’s far too bright. Arthur thinks he hopes it’ll be so dazzling as to mask what lies beneath, but Arthur always sees; even if he doesn’t always know what to do about it. 

He notices Merlin walking down the hall and resolves to figure this out once and for all. He reaches a hand to his shoulder, turning him around and the dread on Merlin’s face is enough to stop him dead. When Merlin realizes it’s him, he jumps back, laughing, trying to hide- always trying to hide. “Arthur! I didn’t see you there! What is it?”

“Merlin? What-” 

“Look Arthur, if it isn’t urgent, I really have to go finish up my work, you know,” he rambles, “the work I do for you? The crown Prince of Camelot. So, I’ll see you later. For dinner. Soon. Yeah?” 

Merlin doesn’t give Arthur the chance to respond before he’s already bounding off leaving him standing there with a hand still in the air, waiting to be held. What in the ever loving hell was that about? That was dread, real, terrible, fearful dread on Merlin’s face. Who could he have mistaken Arthur for, to make him feel that way? 

Arthur’s brow narrows. He’s missed something. 

At dinner, Arthur waits and watches. He’s been hunting all his life, he knows how to spot the signs.

Merlin has come up behind him, filling up his cup, “Arthur,” he says with a teasing smile, “I can’t be the only one noticing you throwing your-” 

“Merlin, come here!” Edward barks.

Arthur watches as Merlin’s expression goes blank and he has an unfounded suspicion that Edward wanted to interrupt. Merlin flashes Arthur a pained smile of apology before he walks two seats over, keeping a respectable distance. 

“Closer Merlin.” Edward’s lips curl up, “Closer, that’s it.” Until Merlin is just near enough that Edward could press his cheek into his jacket if he so chose. 

“Fill up my jug, nice and slow.”

Merlin grits his teeth, doing as he’s told and that’s when Arthur sees Edward’s hand reach up and squeeze Merlin’s thigh, right at his hip, too close, too close. He sees red. The fork in his hand feels sharp enough to pierce through blood and bone. His father laughs, he snaps back to what is real. Not here. Not now. 

When, when, when.

Merlin sucks in a breath and walks away. Arthur calls him to him. “Merlin, you can go now. Go wait in my chambers for when I need you.” 

“Sire?” Merlin looks afraid. 

Arthur wants to stroke his face. 

“Go on.” He says softly, “It’s just dinner. Unless you want to chew my food for me.” 

Merlin lets out an amused breath and Arthur’s grateful suddenly; if he can still laugh, then all must be well. That said, he doesn’t miss the long stare that Edward doesn’t even try to hide as Merlin leaves or the way his eyes scheme. Arthur recognizes another hunter when he sees one. 

He’s just picked the wrong prey. 

“Edward,” he calls, nonchalant, “do you fancy a bout tomorrow, me and you?”

Edward blinks in surprise, “My lord I-” 

“What an excellent idea!” Uther cries, “It would be good for you to get a sense of what training is like before you come to Camelot for your knighthood.” 

There will be no knighthood for this waste of a man Arthur thinks. But that’s an obstacle for another time. 

He gives his best princely smile. Just another act in the play. “What do you say Edward?” 

Caught with no third option, Edward forces a smile back. “That would be an honour sire.” 

“Indeed.” Arthur mutters into his drink. 

The only real problem is his shoulder, but it’s already healing and either way, it doesn’t matter. Arthur doesn’t lose battles like these. The night is long and finally it ends with Arthur trudging back into his rooms alone where an irate Merlin is waiting for him. 

“I thought I told you not to fight!” his arms are crossed, lips pulled. 

Arthur can’t believe this. “Who even told you!” he demands. 

“Gwen did.” 

Guinevere.  

“Look Merlin, Edward couldn’t take me if I had both hands tied around my back. Whatever Gaius has been giving me has been working, I’m practically healed.” 

“Practically , not completely!” 

“Merlin.” Arthur catches his gaze, joking tone gone, “I’m doing this. Now will you apply the medicine and help me, or will you leave?” 

Merlin’s expression sours even more. “I hate when you ask me questions you know the answers to.” 

Arthur shines. 

“Come on then. Let’s get this over with.” Merlin grumbles and Arthur happily tumbles into bed. “I’m going to be bad at this on purpose.” Merlin threatens. 

Arthur just hums pleasantly. “Of course you are Merlin.” 

Merlin’s hands are magic across his skin, though his pressure is harder than before. Angrier. 

“Merlin,” Arthur slides a hand up behind him to hold Merlin’s own, “I can feel your ire.” 

“Then maybe try harder not to provoke it.” 

Arthur sighs, “I’ll be fine. Have you any reason to doubt my swordsmanship?” 

“It’s not you I doubt.”

Merlin slides Arthur’s hand away so his elbow is on the bed, their hands intertwined in the air. 

Arthur pauses, “Do you have reason to doubt Edward?” 

Will he tell him? Will he confide in him? 

Merlin doesn’t say anything. “I know you can beat him.” he says at last, “You’re Camelot’s First Knight.”

No then. 

“Then have a little faith Merlin. I know exactly what I’m doing.” 

Their hands let go. Merlin touches him once more.  

Arthur says nothing further, worried he’ll give it away. He doesn’t want to embarrass the man trying so hard to keep him from harm. He won’t bring shame to him by telling him that he knows. He’ll wait for a better opportunity. Maybe when he beats Edward so far into the ground he’ll be one with the worms Merlin will feel safe enough to tell him. 

When Merlin’s finished, he blows out the candles and in the dark, wishes him good night. He must think Arthur’s asleep, for when he pulls the blankets up to his neck, he brushes the hair from Arthur’s face, fingers trailing around his ear and resting there. Say something, Arthur begs. Say something, say something.

But Merlin doesn’t. 

Arthur’s sleep is fitful.

On the training ground, Arthur’s energy feels almost alive. He swings his sword around, once, twice, likes the feel of it in his palm. Merlin is watching from the bench, eyes at apt attention, shoulders tensed. Edward strolls onto the pitch decked out in armour that’s never been dented and Arthur thinks maybe he really should tie up both his hands.

But then he wouldn’t have the satisfaction of beating him properly; he couldn’t have that. 

Arthur lifts up his sword, standing back in his stance. Edward does the same but different. There’s weaknesses everywhere. Arthur has half a mind to draw out the fight just to further his humiliation, but his knights are watching and he doesn’t want them to see a baser version of himself. He gives Edward a nod and they fly towards each other. 

Edward has raw strength, he’ll give him that much. His blows- if they would ever land- were sure to hurt, and his stamina is nothing to laugh at either. But Arthur has both strength and stamina and even more importantly, skill and drive. His shoulder is throbbing, the pain pulses like a beast, demanding his attention, but Arthur refuses it. Their swords hit, over and over, but it’s not enough. Arthur wants Edward to hurt . He drives the blunt side of his sword into Edward’s side, giving a satisfied grunt when Edward doubles over. 

That’s a mistake of course, because that leaves his shoulder open and Arthur hits it with a clang. The reverberation jolts through his arm and he winces, sucking in a breath. Edward pounces on this weakness, his sword diving through the air. Arthur sees the victory he has not yet earned in Edward’s eyes. The same glint when he grabbed at Merlin. His body aches. His shoulder pulses. But he hates those eyes and his arms lurch upward, pushing Edward’s sword back. 

This is a man who felt entitled to take what he wanted without regard to earning it. You had to fight for your victories. You had to fight to be loved. And if he wanted Merlin, he’d have to fight Arthur, who had spent years building something nobody could take away. 

“Come on Edward, is that all you’ve got?” he taunts, liking the rage in Edward’s eyes.

Edward rushes at him, his anger clouding his strategy. Arthur side steps him neatly, smashing his sword into Edward’s back before stomping a foot into the inner side of his knee. Edward topples to the ground, pathetic and defeated. Arthur presses the tip of his sword against Edward’s neck, so close that if he were to even breathe, the blade would pierce through. “Do you yield?”

Edward gasps, flinching from the cold of the steel, “Y-yes, I yield. You’re truly formidable my lord.” Arthur can tell he’s spitting it out and tries to hide his primordial sense of satisfaction. 

Still, Arthur doesn’t remove his sword. “You’re lucky you haven’t given me a reason to be enraged. What you saw today was only half of what I’m able to do.” 

It’s a threat, but also isn’t. That was politics. 

Arthur removes his sword and Edward stands up on shaky legs, bowing slightly before turning away. Arthur watches him go, eyes tight. Will he learn?

Merlin is still sitting on the bench when Arthur goes to him, this time though, a self-satisfied smile on his face as if he were the one to do any of the fighting. Arthur grins smugly at him, running a hand through his hair. “Like what you see then?” 

Merlin makes a face, as though to say not to get his hopes up. “I have no idea what you mean sire.” 

“It’s okay Merlin, you can admit that I awe you with my prowess.”

“Oh I’m awed alright, but it’s certainly not by your prowess.” Merlin smirks, “How you carry around that massive head of yours without falling is certainly a feat worth bragging about.” 

Arthur’s jaw drops and he laughs, head thrown back. 

“Still,” Merlin offers, “I don’t expect Edward to show his face anytime soon.” He gives Arthur an amused look, “Don’t think I didn’t notice you playing with your food.”

Arthur feigns confusion, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

Merlin stands, shoulder tapping into Arthur. “Really?” 

“If anything were to be amiss,” Arthur says at last, “it would only be to show him he doesn’t have the capability or the disposition to be worthy of the title of knight of Camelot.” 

Merlin’s expression darkens, “No,” he agrees, “he doesn’t.” 

Arthur goes to reach for him when his shoulder spazzes and he hisses, clutching at it. 

“Arthur!” Merlin fusses, “I told you to be careful, come on then. I’ll give you more of the medicine. Maybe that’ll help.” 

Arthur thinks about Edward and Merlin together. Forcing Merlin’s hands to touch him the way he did Arthur. The thought revolts him. It makes him sick. It makes him feel- 

“Come on Arthur, let’s go. Before your council meeting.” 

Their guests leave in a few days. He can keep Merlin close for that long. 

That was the plan anyway, except the day gets away from him and at some point he looks around the room and notices Merlin isn’t there. It’s probably for the best, it’s better to keep himself scarce, but Edward isn’t there either and Arthur goes cold. It could be nothing, it’s possible it’s nothing. But Arthur doesn’t believe much in coincidences anymore and he sets out looking. 

He hates that he walks towards the guest chambers. Hates that his instincts affirm his worst fears. Hates that he has to worry about something as paltry and pointless as politics when Merlin has been living in fear for days and days, without telling anyone at all.  

Why won’t you tell me?

Why won’t you tell me?   

He hears them before he sees them. 

“Let me go!” Merlin yells and Arthur turns the corner to see him struggle from beneath Edward’s grip. 

“What did you tell him!” Edward demands, his hold around Merlin’s wrists tightening so that his skin turns white. 

“Nothing! I didn’t say anything! Now leave me alone!” Merlin’s eyes flash with anger and Edward simply sneers.

“I don’t think I will.” Edward responds. 

He pushes his body into Merlin’s, his knee pressing right on his groin, keeping him in place. Merlin’s face has gone white. Edward lets go of one of his wrists to wipe his thumb against Merlin’s lips. “I’m leaving the day after tomorrow and I refuse to be denied what I want before then.” 

Edward pushes his thumb into Merlin’s mouth. Arthur’s blood roars. His fist bunches around Edward’s shirt as he shoves him away while throwing his other arm in front of Merlin, guiding him behind.  

“Arthur?” Merlin sounds faint, like he’s horrified.

Arthur wants to turn around and tell him he will burn down the world for him. That he will cut off the fingers of anyone who harms him and that he is okay and Arthur will never, ever abandon him, but Edward is glaring at him in a fury and Arthur wants to fight. 

“What is it exactly that you think you were doing to Merlin?” Arthur’s voice is low, his stance lower. 

Edward stutters over his words before he straightens. “I apologize if this has startled you my lord, but this doesn’t concern you, I assure you.” 

Arthur draws up to his full height, the weight of his wrath suffocating the room. “Doesn’t concern me?” he repeats, “Merlin is mine. He belongs to my household. Any attack on him is an attack on this castle and by extension, me.”

He hears Merlin suck in a breath.  

“My Lord,” Edward begins again, “your father told me to make use of your servant any way I pleased as I do not have one of my own at the moment.” 

His father? The wind drops from beneath his sails. To be a prince means to be second in everything you are and do. He can feel Merlin behind him, wonders if he’s tensed up like a jack rabbit, waiting to flee. He must think this is the end. As though Arthur’s ever let himself be manipulated by some two bit lord to be. 

“I wouldn’t want him to think you are disobeying his orders.” Edward says slyly and Arthur feels an almost incalculable anger.

Merlin touches his back. Arthur clears his head. 

“I would never disobey the King’s word.” He replies amiably, tone dropping quickly, “Though I would warn you not to make an enemy of me Edward. Lest my words after our bout come back to bite.” 

Edward pales, stammering through his indignation. “He’s just a servant! I should be able to do as I please!” 

“He is my servant.” Arthur’s arm draws out in front of Merlin, the strongest shield he knows, “And I will not let you have him.” 

“Unless,” Arthur says after a pause, “You wish to fight me for him?”

Edward clicks his jaw, expression dark, “No sire, that won’t be necessary.” 

He skulks away like the insect he is and Arthur watches him, hand at his sword until he disappears from view. When he’s gone, Arthur reaches to touch Merlin’s head but Merlin flinches, eyes widening as he does. 

Arthur freezes, his hand floating in the air before he pulls it back, ashamed. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t-” he pivots to leave, embarrassed and ashamed, of course Merlin would flee from his hand when Merlin grabs it and presses it against his face, eyes earnest and ashine. 

“No! I want you to touch me!” embarrassment flushes through his cheeks, “Wait, no, that came out wrong I just meant-” he sucks in a breath, hand squeezing around Arthur’s own. “I would never fear your hands Arthur.” 

Arthur feels his breath staccato in his throat. His thumb brushes against Merlin’s cheek. “I wish you had told me what he was doing to you.” he says. 

Merlin looks away, hand sliding down to Arthur’s wrist like the energy has just gone out of him. “It doesn’t matter, seems you already knew based on Edward’s questions.” He looks up through his lashes, “Is that why you insisted on fighting him? Even though I told you not to?” 

Arthur won’t apologize. “He touched you without permission.”

Merlin blinks, shaking his head in that affectionate way, “Oh, Arthur…”

“I was trying to show him what would happen if he continued, but obviously, he didn’t listen.” 

“Arthur,” Merlin breathes, “you’re such a dollophead.” 

Arthur drops his hand from Merlin’s face, huffing a bitter laugh. “Next time, I won’t be so nuanced, don’t worry.” 

“I don’t want you putting yourself in difficult situations for me Arthur.” Merlin says quietly. “I’ve seen you when you go out on a limb for me with the King and I-” 

“It doesn’t matter.” Arthur says vehemently, the strength of his conviction jolting Merlin’s gaze from the floor. “I want you to always feel like you can come to me. It is not your job to protect my title, but mine to protect you from those who would harm you for no reason other than they can.” 

Merlin looks like he wants to swear oaths and fealties. Arthur wishes he could hear them. Instead, Merlin shakes his head and Arthur wants to shake him. He grabs Merlin’s face with both hands, forcing him to look at him. “I won’t turn my back on you.” 

Is it possible for someone’s eyes to be endless? Is it possible for the air to feel so thick with possibility Arthur can’t tear himself away? Merlin’s lips flutter open and then shut, they’re so close together that Arthur can feel the heat pouring out of his skin. “Promise me Merlin. The next time this happens, you will come to me.” 

“I promise.” Merlin whispers and Arthur closes his eyes. 

Liar.

iv

Years from now, Arthur will wonder how he ever ran a kingdom without the knights of the round table. His knights. The ones he chose and who chose him. The ones Merlin chose and who chose him. He’ll think about his days as a prince and how they had sworn their fealty to him long before he wore the crown that sits on his head.

Years from now, he will have everything he’s ever wanted. Today though, he carries holes within him he doesn’t think he’ll ever fill. 

The new recruits line up in a row, backs straight, hearts high. Perhaps they’ll do; only time will tell. He walks by the line, making sure to give each man a long look as he does. You can tell a lot about a person by how they react to scrutiny, whether they’ll bow or thrive under pressure.

“Today, I’ll be assessing your capability in a range of weapons to determine where your strengths and weaknesses are. Merlin!"

Merlin scampers over to him, bright eyed, “Yes sire?” 

“Have you brought the maces from the armory?” Arthur rubs at his temple.

He really is the worst servant there ever was. 

Merlin’s mouth drops into an oh and Arthur has his answer. “ Merlin!” 

“On it sire! Won’t be a moment!” 

Arthur growls as he runs, turning back to the recruits with a sigh. “Fine, we’ll start with swords. Come on then, draw them out and go into pairs.”

They’re one short of an even number and the group take turns switching as Arthur’s careful eye surveys. He watches them fight and isn’t exactly impressed, but he’s not morbidly disappointed either. Merlin scurries back with dozens of maces in his arms and trips over air. The weaponry flies across the turf and Arthur sighs even harder as the hopeful knights all laugh. “Sorry!” Merlin calls out, lifting his face from the dirt and flashing a soppy smile. 

Arthur has to hide his own affection and turns away. “Come on then, again. While my useless manservant brings us the next batch of weaponry.”

The fighting continues and upon closer inspection, one of the young men holds some promise. Ian is fast on his feet with a sharp focus that Arthur likes. He does a complicated bit of footwork, getting close enough to his opponent to headbutt him and take the opportunity to knock his sword out of his hand.

Arthur’s brows raise, impressed. “Not bad!” he calls out, clapping Ian on the shoulder. “I’m soon to make a knight out of you!”

Ian looks pleased, puffing out his chest like young men do. “Thank you sire. I look forward to it.” 

Arthur gives him another shake before stepping back and beckoning Merlin over. “Next up, we’ll be doing work with maces. Merlin.” He tilts his head and Merlin sighs.

“Do I really have to keep doing this?” he complains and Arthur gives him a look. 

“Yes actually. Now come on, shield up.” 

Merlin gives him a beleaguered look before lifting up the circular shield and tensing his stance. “The key,” Arthur goes on, “is to keep on hitting,” the mace bashes against the shield, “getting higher each time until there’s an opening-” Arthur makes as though he’s going to bring the mace against Merlin’s stomach but stops far short. 

“Go on,” he gestures to the men, “try it.” 

He turns back to Merlin, “All right then?” 

“Like you care.” He sulks. 

Arthur drops his shoulders, “Oh come on Merlin, you know I’d never really harm you.” 

“I just don’t understand why you don’t have someone else do it. Someone who actually wants to fight you?” 

Arthur regards him for a moment, something serious clouding his face. “I just want you to know what it feels like is all. One day someone might really be coming for your head with a mace or a sword or a bow and I’d like to think not having that be your first time might give you more of a fighting chance.” 

Merlin’s eyes crinkle in that way they do when Arthur’s said something a little too revealing and Merlin’s trying to hide how pleased he is. “Arthur, the odds of me getting into trouble like that-”

“Are extraordinarily high.” Arthur interrupts and Merlin at least has the decency to look comedically apologetic. 

“Still,” Merlin gathers up the maces in his arms to distribute to the men, “I’ve always got you, don’t I?” 

Arthur looks at him, the sun behind his hair, the brightness of his smile. He ruins all that by saying, “Don’t be daft Merlin. As if I’d leave you running around with a sword alone.” 

Merlin glares. Arthur wants to smack himself. He’s saved by Leon jogging toward him, “Sire, you’re needed for a quick matter.” 

Arthur scowls. “I’m trying to train the recruits, Leon.” 

“I know, I told your father the same, but he insisted. It will only be for a short while.” He looks so utterly apologetic Arthur doesn’t have the heart to argue.  

He groans instead, “Fine.” 

Arthur turns to the boys trying hard to be men, “I’ll be back soon. Keep training. If you need assistance with the weaponry, ask any of the servants, they’ll help you.” He looks at Ian, “Follow Ian’s lead, he’ll guide you true.”

He spins around, his cape billowing in the breeze. He catches sight of Merlin’s face. The pride in his eyes, the softness in his lips. Merlin’s always spoken of the man he will become, the king he will one day be. He wonders if he sees glimpses of that man when he looks at Arthur now. 

Arthur hopes so. 

Merlin watches him leave, warmth spreading through his chest. He wishes he could go back in time sometimes and see his younger self, tell him one day he’ll know what true purpose is. What destiny tastes like. What it feels like, when he touches Arthur’s skin.

Where are you going? He thinks. Can I come with you? 

So lost in his thoughts, he doesn’t notice that he’s being called until Ian grabs him by the shoulder and shoves him, “Are you listening??” 

Merlin straightens, shooting him a look of incredulity. “Sorry my lord. I was-” 

“I don’t care what you were doing. You obviously don’t do much judging by the way you serve the prince. Why he puts up with that kind of disrespect I don’t know.” 

Merlin doesn’t say anything. He usually finds it best in these sorts of situations to do nothing and let them tire themselves out. 

“I’m sure the prince would be grateful if I were to show you some manners.” Ian continues, a cruel expression stretching. “Pick up the shield.”

Merlin stares at him. “What?” 

“Are you deaf as well as dumb? Pick up the shield.” Ian repeats, his voice dropping an octave. 

Merlin looks around, the recruits stare back. “Ian,” one calls out, “perhaps it’s best if we stick to each other.” 

“We’re one short of an even number. Merlin will be my partner. Won’t you, Merlin?” 

He can’t say no and they all know it. Merlin picks up the shield and holds it up. He’s been in battle against far more fearsome men.  

Ian picks up his mace and starts swinging. Merlin raises up the shield, again and again, his arms aching from the strain. Ian’s pushing him back, farther down the turf and Merlin can’t look down to watch where he’s going if he’s to stand a chance at deflecting all the blows. That just makes it even easier for Ian to trip him with a well time kick.

Merlin falls backwards, his head hitting the ground with a thud. He groans, trying to roll over when he sees the mace flying towards him. On instinct, he plunges the shield forward, realizing his mistake too late.

“Oops.” Ian coos as the mace comes flying down into his stomach. 

Merlin gasps, his lungs forgetting how to breathe. He heaves, throwing himself to the side so he can stagger upward as Ian laughs. “Shall we go again?”

Ian picks up their blunted training swords. Merlin prays for his ribs. Maybe for a laugh, Ian gives him a weapon of his own, “Come on then.” 

Merlin doesn’t move. He might have to play the game, but he won’t be a willing participant. Ian scowls when he doesn’t obey and comes rushing at him. Merlin parries, one blow, two blows, “You insolent servant. You think you can disobey a direct order from a superior?”

It’s in moments like these that Merlin gives Arthur a bit of credit for overcoming his own upbringing. He’s met kind and fair nobles before it’s true, but he’s met far more who were engulfed by their own greed or hatred or quest for power over others. Arthur may be arrogant and cocky and demanding and entitled in the way only a prince can be, but he’s also just, and true and everything good in the kingdom they’ve both given their lives to protect.

The sword hits him in his left side and Merlin grunts, throwing it off with his own but Ian’s too fast for him and just like that, his sword is out of his hand and Ian is swinging like a madman as Merlin jumps and dodges until Ian’s sword hits him right in the chest and he falls once more to the ground. 

“That’s your rightful place.” Ian spits. “Learn to act like it.”

Merlin’s still staring at him, a simmering hatred beneath his skin when he feels someone’s legs against his head and he looks up to see Arthur’s confused face. “Merlin? What are you doing?” 

“Nothing, sire.” He says at last, groaning as he gets up. 

Arthur’s brows furrow, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, just. Sore.” Merlin’s excuse is clumsy and sounds pathetic even to him. 

Arthur scrutinizes him further but thankfully lets it go. His next lesson for them is the crossbow and he has Merlin zig zag away so he can teach them about making sure to calculate for the wind and the distance and how to predict your enemy’s movements. Since the incident in the woods, Arthur’s dedicated hours more to the art of the bow. The arrow flies straight and true and lands in the centre of the shield. Merlin’s face pops up from behind the wood, looking impressed.  

“Can I try sire?” Ian asks eagerly. 

“Of course, try to hit the target over there.”

Ian frowns, “Why not with him?” 

Arthur tilts his head, eyes hardening, “I can’t have just anybody shooting arrows at a living person until I have faith in your aim.” He leans back, making sure to look at each and every recruit, “That goes for all of you. There will be no training with servants until you’ve proven that you can control yourself enough to keep from harming them.”

Ian hides his scowl. 

Merlin smiles. Ian notices. 

The thing with Ian is that he hates being made a fool and he hates scum who don’t know their place. From then on, he makes it his personal mission to make sure Merlin knows no peace. He finds him in the stable one day and closes the door behind him. “You made me embarrass myself in front of the prince.” 

“You didn’t need my help to do that.” Merlin quips and all at once, Ian is on him, shoving him against the wall. 

“I will make your life miserable.” 

He throws Merlin to the floor, landing a few kicks for good measure before he storms away, leaving him in the filth. 

Merlin will pay for what he’s done. 

Arthur is already awake the following morning when Merlin comes in with his breakfast. “Ah!” Arthur exclaims, “Good! Meat is what you need to start a long day of training.”

“Oh.” Merlin says with no enthusiasm. “Is there more of that then?” 

“This isn’t your first recruitment cycle Merlin, you know exactly how long it’ll last.” 

“And then Uther will knight them.” Merlin says dully.

“Yes.” Arthur agrees, “If they pass.”  

“And what if…what if they’re not…” 

Arthur puts down his goblet, “Not what Merlin? What is it?” 

Merlin scrounges up a smile. “Nothing sire. Now hurry up will you, if you don’t want to be late.” 

Arthur takes a bite from his sausage, watching Merlin flit about like an anxious bird. He’s hiding something, Arthur’s just not sure if it’s serious or not. He knows that Merlin gets like this sometimes, fleeting and secretive and odd. Nothing has ever come out of it, so Arthur lets him be, but still, he keeps an eye out. 

Just in case. 

On the training grounds, Merlin stays farther back than usual, something Arthur picks up on right away. He knows that for all of Merlin’s head shaking and judging, he likes watching Arthur on the field. He takes his wins as his own and his losses too. He’s seen Merlin flinch when he’s been hit and cheer when he overcomes.

If he’s quite honest, Arthur enjoys his presence. It makes him feel seen. Supported. It makes him feel like somebody is proud of him. Almost overbearingly so.

Across the field, his knights are training as well, Leon leading them. While the recruits are busy with swords again, Arthur marches over to check on those that have long since passed the test, making sure they’re all in good form. He isn’t gone long and when he returns, it’s to find Merlin missing. 

“Where’s Merlin?” he demands, looking this way and that. 

“I don’t know sire. He just up and left without saying anything.” Ian shakes his head ruefully, “I told him it was disrespectful to you, but he didn’t care.” 

Arthur frowns. This was both like and unlike Merlin. He’d just have to wait when he saw him next to judge which it was. He gets his answer when Merlin still hasn’t appeared in his chambers like he always does every night and proceeds to storm down to Gaius’ own to figure out what the hell was going on. 

He throws open the door, ready to pour out all his lightning and thunder when Merlin whips around, dropping the poultice he’d been holding looking horrified. All along Merlin’s torso are bruises and marks and there, on his jaw, a horrid cut. “Arthur I-”

Arthur runs to him, taking his face gently in his hand, eyes darkening with every injury he sees. “Who did this to you?” his voice doesn’t rise above a low whisper.

“I…” Merlin squeezes the poultice. “Don’t be cross with me. I was going to tell you. I just…I thought maybe I could resolve whatever animosity he had with me but it…” he gestures to his face, “It didn’t end well obviously.” 

Arthur hasn’t let go, “You haven’t answered my question.” 

“If I tell you now, you’ll just go and string him up.” 

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t. This man, this person, he beat you.” Arthur’s seething, he wants to explode, he wants to hit something, he wants to-

Merlin touches his hand with his own, cradling it against his face. “You get so vindictive when you’re angry for me Arthur. That’s not who you really are.” Merlin takes his hand and then the other, holding them both against him. “These hands were made to build kingdoms, not vengeance.” 

Arthur closes his eyes and takes in a breath, then two. “Please tell me who did this. I won’t act rashly. I promise.” 

Merlin lets go, takes a step back. “I was going to tell you, when it first happened, but Ian…he’s just a boy. I thought if I could speak with him, maybe he would see the error of his ways. When you were called away to the council meeting, he wanted to train with me, but really, he just wanted to prey on someone who couldn’t fight back.”

Merlin won’t look at him, pulling a shirt back on. “Afterward, he just…any opportunity he had to toy with me he would take. He followed me into the stables, the armory, the hall if we were alone. I don’t know what made him want to have it out for me, but I tried talking to him earlier today when you went to speak to Leon, but he got so irate that he…lashed out.” He finishes lamely.

Merlin stops and Arthur feels such a surge of affection for him he doesn’t know what to do with it

“Sit down.” He commands.

Arthur picks up the poultice and gets on one knee, looking up at Merlin’s beloved face and presses the poultice to his cut. Merlin winces but slowly unclenches his jaw.

“I’ll sort this out for you.” Arthur promises. “Camelot has no need for knights like that.”  

“You can’t do anything about it Arthur. It’s a servant’s word against the son of a lord.” 

Arthur wants to abolish that look of resignation in Merlin’s eyes. As though Arthur wouldn’t destroy every obstacle in their path for him. As though he doesn’t see how wrong this all is, how flawed the system that had been built generations before him was. Lancelot and Gwaine being unable to be knights, Merlin being mistreated by tyrants. All of this had to stop.

“Lucky for you Merlin, I’m a bit of a tactical genius.” His grin is cocky and brash and Merlin can’t help but smile back.

“You think so? Remember I’ve been with you for all your failed plans.”

“Excuse you, I’ve never failed. I’ve only delayed success.” 

Merlin laughs, sharp and bright. “Delayed success?? That’s a lark.”

They can’t stop smiling at each other and Arthur wants to lean in. He wants to drown in the blue of Merlin’s eyes, wants to lose himself in his laughter, wants to curl up in the only love he’s ever felt in his life was truly unconditional.

“You’re the only person in the world that I think really sees me Merlin.” Arthur confesses.

“You’re the only person I feel I can exist around without needing to be a million different things that I both am and am not. Forgive me then, for wishing harm on the people who would hurt you for just being who you are.”

Merlin’s eyes are shining. “You don’t need my forgiveness. I just don’t want you to ever be consumed by rage when you are so much more than that.”

Merlin’s fingers sweep Arthur’s forehead like a crown. “I do see you Arthur. And sometimes I think you let yourself see me. I know you’re afraid of having and then losing, but I promise you, you won’t.”

Merlin is looking at him with galaxies in his eyes and Arthur’s heart is beating so loudly in his chest he’s sure they can both hear it. He feels himself inching forward, Merlin is bending down. There’s a moment of anticipation, of yearning, and then the door opens and they both jump apart.

Gaius blinks at them, “Am I interrupting, sire?”

Arthur coughs, “No, I- Merlin, you will be in my chambers tomorrow morning then?”

Merlin looks dazed and disappointed. “Of course, sire. Bright and early, just like you like it.”

Arthur groans. “Don’t even joke. The universe invented mornings just to spite me, I’m sure of it.”

“Always one to think the world revolves around you, don’t you Arthur?"

Arthur laughs to himself as he leaves but in the darkness of his room, he thinks of a plot.

“Trust me today.” Arthur had said as he and Merlin walked onto the turf.

Merlin nodded and Arthur had squeezed his arm and just like that, the plan was set into motion.

“Today, we’ll be practicing with throwing knives.” Arthur demonstrates on a dummy, hitting it between the eyes, the heart, and the liver. “This takes skill and precision. And as a reward for all the hard work, once you show me you can hit your targets, you’ll be able to throw them at Merlin as he tries to avoid your knives. Sounds fun, doesn’t it?” There's an edge to his voice the recruits don’t pick up on, but Arthur watches them all closely, sees the dark light of excitement in Ian’s eyes and knows his trap has been set.

Arthur walks by Merlin, whispers something in his ear. A place he needs to go.

Arthur waits until some of the knights have achieved their task, including Ian, before he heads into the tent in the middle of the grounds. As he expected, Ian proclaims loudly that he should be the one to go first and orders Merlin to come closer. 

“Let’s see how well you dance then servant boy.” Ian taunts and Arthur grits his teeth. 

Patience is the thing. He’s just hunting. Timing is everything. 

Arthur hears the knives whishing through the air as Ian laughs, “That’s it Merlin! Keep running like the pathetic coward you are!” 

Merlin’s no coward. He never has been. In every battle, in every fight, in anything that was and is to come, Arthur would always choose for Merlin to be at his back. A boy with no sword or weapon or physical strength that ran blindly into wars with just his faith. 

Why are people loyal to their rulers? Sometimes, all it is, is love. 

He can hear Merlin panting now as he rushes closer and Arthur rolls his shoulders, ready for a fight. A knife flies through the air and hits the shield. Arthur can see Ian’s shadow through the cloth, creeping closer. “Jump for me would you?” 

The knives go flying at Merlin’s feet and he darts to avoid them just as Ian snickers, “Uh oh, you forgot to watch your head.”

Arthur flies out the tent without a thought, throwing an arm out in front of Merlin with no hesitation. The blade pierces through his chainmail, he can feel it draw blood, but only just. The knife sticks out his arm and he pulls it out with a hiss, glowering. He flicks it to the ground, staining the grass red. 

Ian pales. He stumbles backwards. “My lord, I-” 

Arthur ignores him, he turns around, taking the shield from Merlin’s hands and throwing it aside. “Did he get you anywhere?” he asks, eyes roaming Merlin’s body. 

“No, I’m fine, but your arm-” alarms ring in Merlin’s eyes and Arthur can’t help the soft smile that pierces through the glare. 

“You worry too much.” He says before he faces Ian and the recruits once more. 

“You have disgraced the Knight’s Code, Ian from the House of Grange. You would take your power out on someone with no weapon, who bears you no ill will, and who cannot fight back in the way that you can.” 

Arthur draws out his sword, plunges it into the earth before him. “The duty of Camelot’s knights is to protect her walls and her citizens. if you cannot do that, if you cannot uphold the values and the honour of being a knight, then you are not deserving of the title.” 

It sickens him. It angers him. The injustice of this world. He knows men with twenty times the courage and skill and honour who are barred from serving just because of a mistake of birth. Gwaine, Lancelot, Elyan, those are men he would die fighting beside. Those are men he would defend his city with. 

“My lord, please, it was just a misunderstanding. We were only having a laugh, weren’t we Merlin?” 

Merlin comes to stand next to Arthur, unforgiving.

“Sire, please.” 

“Leave my sight.” Arthur commands and the whole world stops to listen. “I won’t have anyone disrespect what it is the knights should stand for and I will not tolerate- will never tolerate- anyone harming members of my household.” 

He stares down each and every one of them. “You think you will be judged by your skills alone, that this world will forgive you by virtue of your excellence. But the world is as just as we make it.” Arthur raises his chin, “If you won’t protect a servant of the royal household, how can I expect you to protect a farmer? A peasant? Or anyone else with no one of power to speak up for them?” Arthur glows as the sun rises behind him. 

Merlin can’t take his eyes away. He drinks Arthur in like the roots do the rain. 

“We are not given power to wield it as we wish, we are given power as stewards for a better world. The minute the populace sees our cloaks and shrinks back in fear instead of feeling hope, we have lost the only battle that matters.” 

The recruits bow their heads. He looks over them one by one, assessing the sincerity of their remorse. He finds it acceptable and nods his head.

“You are all dismissed for today.” 

Ian stays, glaring at him with all the hatred of the world. “You’ve just lost your most talented recruit.” He spits. 

“I can train any man with a sword and bow,” Arthur says, hand finally rising to staunch his wound, blood rippling through his fingers, “but I cannot cleanse a rotten heart.” 

Ian swears and Arthur puts a warning hand on the pommel of his sword until he leaves. 

“Arthur,” Merlin’s voice is pained, “can we please go see Gaius now?” 

“You’re always in such a rush Merlin.” Arthur feels better than he has in ages, he wants to run a lap, “It’s a beautiful morning too.” 

He feels on top of the world. He feels like he’s conquered a continent. Is this what it feels like to walk into your own power? Is this what it feels like to have made a change? Will the knights he trains today become the heroes of tomorrow? Will Arthur have paved one more brick to build the kingdom he knows Camelot has the potential to be? 

Merlin looks like he wants to scream, which only improves Arthur’s mood even more. “Arthur.” Merlin whispers and Arthur thinks he will just reproach him more. Instead, Merlin bows his head, resting it against his back. “You exhaust me, you know that? You make me so infuriated that I want to shake you.” Merlin’s arms rise to wrap around his waist, but rather than jostle him, he’s embraced. “But then you go off and make grand speeches like that and…” 

“Merlin,” Arthur drawls, positively giddy, “are you a little bit enchanted by me?” he teases. 

“Oh shut up.” Merlin mumbles against him. “I take it back.”

“ Merlin.” Arthur’s grinning now, tracing circles on Merlin’s hands, “You can admit anything to me, go on. Get it off your chest, you’ll feel better.” 

Merlin lifts his head. Arthur looks behind him, expecting to see a mirthful laugh at Merlin’s lips but instead, finds an expression of such pain and grief that it staggers him. Just as quickly as it appears, it’s gone, and Merlin smiles, “Come on Arthur, you’ve kept me waiting long enough. Let’s have a look at your shoulder.”

Arthur will often wish he had pressed more that day. Had grasped Merlin by his arms and pressed their foreheads together and whispered he could tell him the truth, any truth. But time was not his to bend and past him, not understanding either himself or Merlin or all of the feelings that lay in between, did nothing but follow Merlin to Gaius’ chambers, too caught up in the warmth of Merlin’s hand over his.

v

What feels like eons ago, his father once yelled at him, “All this?? Over a servant!” 

Morgana, returned to them, but different than before, now believing in the stark differences between the nobility and the rest. 

His uncle insisting, “We can find you another one. A servant is replaceable.” 

Arthur looks around the Grand Hall, now king, and thinks about how his family bonds were supposed to be the one thing that lasted and yet the only face he loves in this room is the one they least acknowledged. Uther is dead. Morgana betrayed him. Agravaine deceived him. 

He poured out his heart for these people, he gave them everything of him, would’ve given them his breath, his power, his undying loyalty, anything and everything to just get them to stay.

What has he given Merlin? To be deserving of this unending loyalty. This undying devotion. The love in his eyes Arthur has come to count on as the only constant he’ll ever get. The hardest part about being King is the loneliness at the top of the mountain with only your crown for company. Trust is a currency he can’t barter with freely. Every day there are plots and schemes and liars trying to kill him with a smile. 

But every day there is Merlin.

His father and uncle are dead. Morgana is gone. Just a servant, he thinks, bitter. He was always worth twenty of you. Merlin’s affections would never be weaponized like Uther’s. He will never betray him like Morgana did, over and over. He will never lie to him like Agravaine. When he lost his family, when he lost his crown, when he lost his way, there was always ever only one that remained. 

What has Arthur done to deserve that kind of love? He hopes it’s because he loves him back, just as much. Just as fiercely. Just as eternally. He hopes it’s because he’s tried his best to be a friend though he’s never quite known how. He hopes it’s because he tries to cheer Merlin up when he’s sad and share in his joys when he wins. He hopes it’s because Merlin knows there won’t ever be a battle Arthur won’t fight with him or for him. That he values his counsel, that he treasures every word Merlin says, that sometimes in his darkest moments, when he looks into the light, it’s the colour of Merlin’s eyes. 

Arthur realized he loved Merlin when something only he would find funny happened and Merlin had already sought his gaze across the room, hiding a snicker behind his hand. That’s when it occurred to him that just by accident, he’d made a best friend. 

Arthur realizes he is in love with Merlin the day after they’d reconquered Camelot following Agravaine’s betrayal. He couldn’t handle being back. He’d fought so hard to return to this room, in these walls, with the people he loved desperately, and yet every stone made him want to pull apart at the seams. 

So he vanishes. 

He gets on a horse and runs away, needing to be alone somewhere no one who haunted his dreams could touch. He rides until he gets to a lake he’s never seen before and ties his mare to a tree. The sky is clear, the cheeriness of the blue makes a mockery of his grief. He walks almost in a trance towards the water, collapses on the shore. 

The lake meets the sky in a hazy grey line, he wonders what it would feel like to join it. Wonders what it would feel like to give up. To just give in. The world had been conspiring against him from the very beginning hadn’t it? When he pulled the sword out of the stone, it was supposed to be prophecy, proof that he was the hero in a tragedy destiny had written. 

He loves Camelot. He does . But what was a kingdom worth? Everything? All of him? Everyone he’s ever loved? Was that the price he had to pay for the burden of bringing prosperity and peace? 

Did destiny believe his whole entire heart was a worthy price to pay?

How much grief can a human soul hold? How can something so small be expected to bear the weight of mountains that stab him from the inside out. How is it possible to be truly alone in a world? How is it possible that everyone who shared your blood despised you. 

Arthur sits in front of that lake for hours. His body aches. He’s tired and hungry and scared and lonely. But he can’t move. He’s finally given up, he thinks. This is it. This is the end. And like thinking those thoughts made him appear, Merlin steps up behind him and says, “This is only a terrible middle Arthur. We haven’t reached the ending yet.” 

Arthur wraps his arms around his knees tighter. “Leave me Merlin.” He tries to sound commanding, but he just sounds tired. 

Merlin walks closer. 

“I won’t ever leave you.” 

Tears well up in Arthur’s eyes and he tries furiously to banish them away. 

“I said leave me!” 

“I won’t!” Merlin’s sharpness jolts him out of his miseries. “I’ve fought beasts with you, I’ve fought wars with you, I’ve fought monsters and dragons and bandits and thieves. I have seen you at your greatest victories and through your worst mistakes. I have seen you act foolishly and rashly,” Arthur flinches, bowing his head, “but I’ve also seen you rise to the occasion and bring hope to a people who had long since lost it.”

Merlin sits down beside him. Arthur can feel him staring but can’t return his gaze.

“I’ve seen every part of you Arthur and I’ve loved each and every one of them. There is nothing I would place higher than you. Not power. Not the crown. Not glory or riches.” The water laps onto the shore, in and out. 

In and out. 

“I know you can’t bear the hope of it, but you’ve gathered people around you who I know are loyal to the end. Gwaine, Perceival, Leon, Gwen, Gaius, Elyan, these people, your people, that you found and who found you all on your own…I know you think there’s something broken about you, but there isn’t, there’s not.” Merlin’s fervent, every line of his face intense. 

Arthur can’t bear it anymore, he can’t . “How can you say that?” he explodes, turning to Merlin with all the anguish of a thousand heartbreaks, “How can you say that when even the people who had to love me couldn’t? My own father-” Arthur can’t help it, it comes out a sob and he squeezes his eyes shut to hide from the shame.

He doesn’t see the way Merlin’s own heart shatters, he only feels Merlin’s arms pull him in, cradling him against his neck. “I can’t ever forgive Morgana and Agravaine for what they did to you.” It’s a vengeful whisper, Arthur doesn’t recognize his voice, “Their own greed corrupted them; it never, ever had anything to do with you Arthur. Neither did Uther’s failings. Only he should bear the guilt of not wanting to be a proper father.”

“But please Arthur, don’t let the terrible things they’ve done blind you to all the love you have the privilege of being a part of now. You don’t even see the way you inspire the people sometimes. You don’t see how men who’d never believed in kings or country suddenly flock to be a part of you, to be yours. You’re so much more than enough Arthur,” Merlin embraces him tighter, presses a kiss to his head, “you’re everything, don’t you see that? You’re everything.” 

That’s the moment Arthur knew. It’s the moment he realized that everything that had ever happened to him, every betrayal, every tear, every wound, it was bearable, it was surmountable, all of it, he could withstand all of it, because he got to meet Merlin. Because he got to have him, see him, touch him, talk for hours and hours with him. 

He had sat at this lake feeling every missing thing inside him and all Merlin had to do was simply be there for him to feel whole once more. All these years, all those stolen moments. In the end, all Arthur ever wanted was to be with someone who made him feel at peace. He’s never measured up, has always been short. Merlin is the only person in his life who makes him truly feel like being just Arthur, just him, brash and bold and vulnerable, was enough. That he didn’t have to fight every second of every day just to justify being alive.

Arthur pulls out of Merlin’s arms, sliding his hand up across Merlin’s back to his neck. He brings their foreheads together, “All that I am I think, is because you were there. The great king you speak about, the one you always thought I’d be, it’s because of you Merlin. It always has been.” 

Stars sparkle in Merlin’s eyes. His lips tremble and Arthur brushes a thumb across them to soothe him.

“I think you’re the only person who truly knows me.” Arthur confesses, pulling away “And the thought of that scares me, because if one day you choose to leave me, I’ll know it’s truly because of me.”

Merlin looks like he wants to protest, profess his endless fealty. Arthur can’t help the fondness that gushes from every bit of him. “Merlin, you really do worry too much.” His teasing is gentle, like the flap of a butterfly’s wing, “I just meant…I’ll keep putting in everything I have into becoming the man you think I am.” 

“You’re already him, Arthur.” Merlin insists, shaking his head, “One day you’ll see that, you ridiculous man.” 

Arthur wants to kiss him then. He wants to take Merlin’s face in his hands and press their lips together until the trees and the wind sing. He wants to lower them to the ground, cradling the back of Merlin’s head. He wants to roll on the grass, laughing and loving and holding and feeling. 

He wants everything of Merlin and to give him everything in return. 

But he’s wary of pushing him into something he might not want. Wary of how emotionally turbulent everything has been, about how fragile he is now, about how Merlin might just acquiesce out of pity and then Arthur’s heart might truly well never beat again. 

Arthur wants him so badly he aches for it. He’s protected Merlin from bandits and knights and kings but today, he’d have to protect him from himself. Another day maybe. A better day.

Merlin catches him staring, just a little lovestruck. “Arthur? What is it?” 

I think I love you, that’s all.

“Nothing.” Arthur smiles, it feels like a promise of something to come.

Every day that passes, Arthur wants to tell him, so desperately, the words cling to his tongue, to his robes, to the spark in his fingers when they touch. Everything about Merlin is dazzling, the sharpness of his cheekbones, the shine of his hair, the litheness of his figure. All Arthur wants to do is stare and stare, but there are homes to rebuild, coffers to count, people to help, a kingdom that needs his steady hand, always, always, always.

The work never ends, but while it isn’t his true love, it was certainly his first. 

He’s been thinking about how to say it, whether he should at all or just grab him and kiss him. There’s something delightful about the thought of grabbing Merlin by the arms and tasting the surprise on his mouth before he leans in just as close. I love you, he wants to say, I love you, I love you, you mean the most to me in the world.

He tries to make something romantic out of it. He goes to the kitchens to grab some bread, cheese and fruits. It’s not a full picnic, nothing too much. He thinks they might just go for a ride, back to that spot by the lake. He’s in the middle of trying to find Merlin to come and leave with him when Leon walks in with a familiar apology at his lips. 

No matter, Arthur thinks, he will try again later. Except Merlin is nowhere in sight. Later comes and later goes, each of his attempts fail until finally, he is alone and exhausted, sitting alone at the table in front of the throne, poring over laws he’s too tired to understand. He hasn’t seen Merlin all day when suddenly, he barges into the room, looking flushed, eyes darting about. “Arthur!” a grin splits over his face, as though relieved to find him. 

As though he’d been the one looking all over for the other.

Arthur slams his quill down, “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” 

Merlin stops mid-stride, looking like a deer right before the arrow hit. “I uh, well, you see sire, I-”

Arthur sighs, rubbing at his temple, “I’m too tired to hear your excuses Merlin. Why can’t you just ever tell me if you need to go away?”

He sees Merlin’s expression dip. “I’m sorry Arthur, I didn’t mean to-” 

“You never meant to do you?” he’s on a roll now- there goes his attempt at romance- "You just disappear whenever you feel like it and then give me excuses like ‘going to the tavern,'” he says this last bit snidely, “you know that I went down there once? They had no idea who I was talking about.”

Merlin sucks in a breath, his gaze darts to the door. Does he think Arthur doesn’t notice? Arthur can’t help himself from noticing every little thing about him. It kills him. There’s only one thing Merlin might hide from him. Only one thing that makes sense of why he’s been avoiding him. Perhaps he’s been too obvious and now Merlin doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do. 

“If you’re in love with someone else,” Arthur says sadly, trying his absolute hardest not to show how obliterated he is by this, “you can just tell me Merlin. You don’t have to hide from me.” He finishes quietly. 

Merlin makes a strangled sound, “Someone else??” 

Arthur gets up, approaching him, tries to smile, though his entire face feels like it’ll crack in two. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable with my affections. It’s- it’s kind of you to try and spare me but, if you don’t feel the same way then-” 

“Arthur you absolute clotpole.” Merlin breathes, “You’re accusing me of seeing someone else when you haven’t even told me you’re in love with me.” 

“Of course I’m in love with you! I can’t remember when I wasn’t in love with you!” It bursts out of Arthur and it’s so liberating, so freeing, before he remembers it’s unrequited. 

“Oh.” It comes out of Merlin like a sigh. 

“But it’s okay. I’ll be fine. Thank you for worrying about me.” Arthur goes to grip Merlin’s shoulder but stops himself just in time. 

He goes to walk past but Merlin grabs his face and kisses him, hard and desperate and so, so precious. Every goddamn planet in the sky aligns. 

“Didn’t I tell you I will always want your touch.” Merlin growls and Arthur doesn’t understand what’s happening. He has no idea what he’s missed. But his body moves all on its own and he pulls Merlin in closer, he feels Merlin tangle his hands in Arthur’s hair, the echoes of Merlin’s moan against his tongue. 

“I’ve wanted this for so long.” Arthur murmurs against his skin, tilting his chin up to capture Merlin’s lips once more, “I love you.” He says into his mouth, “I want to say it properly before we-” Merlin pushes him back suddenly, expression aghast.

“Wait, Arthur stop, I can’t- I can’t do this.” He looks like he’s about to cry. 

Arthur feels the floor fall out from under him. His heartbreak writes itself all over his face and Merlin rushes to touch him, stroking his cheeks so tenderly Arthur could fall apart. “No Arthur, it’s not what you think, don’t look like that. I love you so much more than you could ever imagine. I love you more than I thought a person capable of.” He’s smiling so sweetly, “That day at the lake, when I said you were everything, what I wanted to say was that you were everything to me.” 

“Then why?” Arthur’s voice cracks and Merlin clenches his eyes shut. 

“Because I…before we can be together, I have to…Arthur I…” Merlin’s all over the place, he’s not making sense, but he’s so distraught, it’s contagious. 

“Merlin what are you-”

The door to the throne room bursts open. On instinct, Arthur shoves Merlin behind him, whipping out his sword. Why can’t his world stay unmarred for just one day. Merlin is trembling behind him, “You!” he exclaims. 

“You?” Arthur echoes, “Who are you?” he demands of the strange man who strides in, “What do you want with Merlin?” 

Is this what Merlin wanted to tell him? Has he been caught up in something dangerous?

“Arthur-” Merlin whisper hisses, trying to get his attention. 

“Don’t worry Merlin.” Arthur tries to comfort him, “I won’t let any harm come to you.” 

To the stranger he says, “State your purpose!” 

“I,” the man says, “have only one purpose. To finish what the Lady Morgana started and rid the world of you to bring about the age of magic that Camelot deserves.” 

Arthur swings his sword in his hand, if it isn’t one thing, it’s always another. Damn it. “Merlin, when I go for him, you run.” Arthur murmurs under his breath. 

“I’m not leaving you!” Merlin hisses back. 

“Just follow orders for once in your life Merlin!” Arthur grits his teeth and with one hand, throws a knife and with the other, draws out his sword. 

The man smiles, claps his hands, and everything freezes to a halt. 

Of everything he’s ever been through, this is the most surreal. Time has stopped. In his peripheral vision, he sees birds mid-flight. His own body is mid stride. In the air in front of him, his knife is caught in a spin. His face won’t twist to show his shock, but the man probably doesn’t need to see it to know it. 

“Arthur Pendragon, you have been found guilty for the sins of the father and for the sins you let happen when you had the power to stop them.” The man plucks the knife from the air and walks towards him slowly, with purpose.

Arthur knows then, that this will be his end. He will never see the Camelot he was trying so hard to build. He will never see the villages he was bringing into the kingdom to share in their prosperity. He will never see Merlin grow old with him.

But he will have kissed him. He will have tasted something more satiating than anything and will have held him in his arms and known that he was his and they were each other’s. Maybe that will have to be enough. Maybe it is enough. 

He always knew he would die young and unfinished. 

He wants to yell for the man to leave Merlin out of it. To let him live. But he can’t speak though he tries ferociously. Take my life, he begs the spell, but please let me save his. 

“Goodbye, Arthur Pendragon.” The man pulls back the knife and behind him, Merlin roars. 

“Get away from him!” he yells and the man goes flying, body crashing against the wall. 

Arthur doesn’t understand. The birds still haven’t moved. Neither can he. No, he thinks, no, no, no, no. Behind him, Merlin runs to the sorcerer, checks for his pulse. He waits a beat, then two, and suddenly Arthur can feel his limbs and knows the man must be dead. Merlin knows it too, he turns around on his knees, “Arthur-” 

Arthur can’t tear his eyes away from him, wide and hurt and so terribly broken, “Tell me someone else did that. Tell me there’s another sorcerer here.” 

“I can’t.”  Merlin replies helplessly.

“Anybody but you.” Arthur whispers, his head won’t stop shaking, “Anybody else. You were supposed to be the one person who-” he can’t say it.

This is the end he thinks. This is when his heart stops trying. This is when he gives up. The person he trusted most in the world. Lying, for all this time. 

“Arthur please.” Merlin begs, running towards him, trying to take his hands but Arthur pulls back, not recognizing the man before him. 

Not again, not again. How many lies will he find reflected in the eyes of the people he loved? 

“I wanted to tell you, just before he came in, I wanted to-” Merlin’s distress still pangs Arthur’s heart and he curses himself for loving even when he’s so angry he could scream. 

“That’s why I was gone all day, I sensed that there was someone out there, someone threatening your life. I was trying to find him and I thought that I- I thought that I had outwitted him but I was wrong and Arthur, I’m sorry. You don’t know how sorry I am that you had to find out this way but I was born with magic. I didn’t choose it, but I chose to use it for you and only you. Every day, since the moment we met.”

“I’ve wanted to tell you. You don’t know how much. Every single day I wanted to, but how could I do that to you when your father would have me killed at the slightest hint of sorcery? I couldn’t make you choose. And I didn’t want to leave you and there was never a moment’s peace. There was always a traitor or a monster or an enemy within our walls.” 

“I’ve tried to protect you as best I could. I-I haven’t always succeeded, but I’ve always, always done what I felt I had to, to keep you from harm because nothing else matters to me Arthur.” His expression is so intense it could cut glass, “Nothing else matters to me but you.” He’s so fervent, so sincere, but Arthur can’t. 

He shakes his head, “No. You’re lying- you’ve been lying to me! All this time I’ve trusted you, I thought I knew you. You let me think I knew you.” He’s so gutted he can barely stand. 

“You do know me!” Merlin pleads, “You know me. You know my heart. You know that I would never, ever hurt you.” 

“But you did.” Arthur says.

He wants to sob. “I loved you the most.” 

“No,” Merlin cries, “don’t say loved. Arthur don’t.” Merlin pulls Arthur in, presses kiss after kiss against his mouth. Merlin’s tears fall onto his tongue, Arthur pushes him away.

He leaves Merlin standing next to an empty throne. He walks back to his empty room. They are both alone.

Arthur locks his chambers. He refuses to see anyone. Days and days pass by. He can’t stop thinking about what a fool he’s been. Magic. How had he never seen it. How much of an idiot did he have to be? So many coincidences, so many timely disasters, so many unexplained victories. Magic, right under his nose. Right under his father’s nose.

All those times Merlin had been suspected, accused, all those times Arthur had laughed, finding everything so utterly absurd. His Merlin? Of course not.

The memories stop being funny. Merlin in jail, Merlin tried and sentenced, Merlin burnt at the stake. Arthur’s fists clench against his forehead. What would he have done? What would he do now? 

How could he lie.

The part of him that is king, who can be impartial and fair, can see things for what they really are. A scared boy arriving in Camelot and told he is wrong and worthy of death. A chance meeting at a market, a fight in the square. An unexpected friendship, a blindsiding love. The undercurrent of all of their experiences being a deep and debilitating fear that Arthur won’t love him more than he fears magic. That the person he tried so hard to protect would be the one to kill him.

Arthur is a king. He is impartial and fair. But Merlin brings out the man, the little boy craving love and terrified of abandonment who had put all of his hopes into just one other. It’s his fault, Arthur can concede, to put one person on so high of a pedestal. But there’s a part of him that wonders if a heart can ever truly heal or if those are just lies we tell ourselves to keep going through the day.

He tries to examine his soul, bruised and battered. There are stitches that Merlin painstakingly sewed when Morgana ripped it to its sinews, when Agravaine tore it anew. There are doubts about himself that Merlin had rubbed balms into, whispered confidences in his ear. How can he still love someone so deeply when he feels so terribly destroyed.

All this time, he thought he’d been the one protecting Merlin, just to find out it had always been the other way around. And he thinks about when they’d speak of magic, when Arthur had his sword pressed to his father’s throat. Did Merlin cry to himself later? About betraying his own kind to save Arthur from himself? When his father died, did Merlin weep bitterly about the injustice of Arthur praising him for betraying himself? 

How Arthur must have hurt him. 

How Merlin has hurt him. 

Why is it that we always hurt the ones we love the most? 

Arthur wishes they could go back to the start, those early days of discovering one another, that shy friendship that grew like a flame before becoming a wildfire. He wishes he could go back, tell his past self to look and really see. But maybe this was how it was always supposed to happen. Maybe they had to relinquish control of their hearts and have the other break it for them to start fresh. Forge a happier future where they didn’t have to keep secrets. Maybe Arthur should be grateful that he knows only now that he is king, when he doesn’t have to fear for Merlin’s life. 

He thinks sometimes that Merlin could stab him right in the chest and he would do nothing but let him. If Merlin found him so unworthy of living, then maybe he was right. 

The thought terrifies him.

There’s a knock at the door, Arthur assumes it’s Merlin. Since their disastrous first kiss, unable to leave him alone, Merlin has brought up his dinner every night, leaving them at the door so Arthur won’t have to look at his face. The thought pains him, but Arthur still never corrected him.

Tonight however, a servant walks in, holding the tray and Arthur’s blood stills. “Where’s Merlin?” 

The servant looks confused, “I- I’m not sure sire. I think I saw him head towards the stables right after he asked me to deliver your dinner.”

Arthur stops listening, blood pounding. Stables? Why would Merlin need a horse? Where was he going? Why was he going? Was he coming back? When? When? 

He’s too late. 

Of course he’s too late. He’s spent so much time wallowing in self-pity and now Merlin’s off and done something stupid like leaving Camelot after he said he never would. But of course he would, the darkest part of him seethes, you abandoned him first, what should he stay for? You failed, you failed, you failed. 

Arthur pushes past the confused servant, sprinting out the castle and to the stables. He pulls out a horse- any will do- he doesn’t care, he doesn’t care. He finds the nearest guard, “Which way did Merlin go?? Did he say where he was going?” 

If people could stop gaping at him in surprise and just answer his questions, his night would be going a lot better. 

“The woods sire, he mentioned going to the woods.” 

A pained expression crosses his face. The woods he’d need to traverse to get back to Ealdor? Those same ones? No. He shakes his head, he wouldn’t really leave without saying goodbye would he? 

Why would he say goodbye? His thoughts taunt. You’ve proven how shallow your love truly is. 

Arthur ignores the guard, mounts his horse and cracks the reins. No. He can fix this. He won’t let them end. Not like this. Not now. Not ever. 

Arthur rides hard, his years of tracking deer and rabbits and creatures wishing Camelot harm ramping up his senses. He rides until the moon rises over the stars and the forest turns almost ethereal as the trees whisper their secrets in a language he’ll never understand. 

He finds Merlin standing near a tree, looking intently at the ground. Arthur takes a minute to take him in. He’s beautiful. He’s wonderful. He’s everything, everything. 

Arthur stumbles off his horse, calls out his name. 

Merlin whips around, shock spreading across every feature. “Arthur?? What are you doing here?” 

“I’m stopping you from leaving! What does it look like?” Arthur rushes towards him but stops a foot away, crossing his arms. 

Merlin looks confused. Arthur can’t with that today. 

“Leaving? Arthur I-” Merlin laughs, short and relieved, “Arthur I’m collecting flowers for Gaius. They only bloom under the full moon, look.” He crouches down, beckoning Arthur to join him, a curious little sparkle in his eye.

Skeptical, Arthur crouches with him, looking at the innocuous buds with something like unwarranted suspicion until the light hits them and all at once, the petals unfurl to reveal the most illuminating purple flowers he’s ever seen. “Oh.” He says simply. 

Merlin smiles, slow and enamoured. “Oh indeed.”

The relief and acknowledgement of how utterly ridiculous he has been sends Arthur falling backwards, expression dazed. “Just picking flowers.”

But Merlin’s looking at him oddly, or maybe it’s just a vulnerable hope. “But you didn’t know that.” He says after a beat, “You thought I was leaving.” He frowns and Arthur wants to rub the sadness from his lips, “You know I’d never do that to you. You must know…” Merlin looks away, uncertain now. 

“I told you once that if you ever left, it would be because I was no longer the man you believed me to be. I thought you left because I knew that was true.” 

Merlin looks like he wants to say something but sees the expression on Arthur’s face and doesn’t. 

“I don’t think there’s any way I could’ve found out about your magic that would save me from having felt betrayed.” Arthur admits, deciding to just be honest and hope Merlin would still have him afterward.

Merlin winces, pulling away but Arthur grabs his hand, intertwining their fingers. 

“I’ve spent days thinking about it. Thinking about all the ways you must have saved my life, all the things that happened that were too coincidental or miraculous to be anything but you. You let me believe I was the one protecting you and this kingdom we love, but really, it was you.” 

“You have protected me.” Merlin retorts, “Over and over. It’s one of the reasons I’m so besotted with you.” Merlin’s smile is somehow both coy and shy, “Can’t we just agree that all we’ve been trying to do is just protect each other? Even if it didn’t always turn out the way we hoped?” 

Arthur lets out a breath. “I can live with that. I came to terms with that. And then I came to terms with the magic, about the sacrifices you’ve made. What I couldn’t get over was feeling the fool, of never having noticed or seen it. Of having you lie to me, all this time. Of knowing you, but not in any way that mattered.”

“I hated hurting you. I hated lying to.” Merlin whispers. “I’m so sorry Arthur. I know you’re furious.”  

He squeezes Merlin’s palm. “I was so angry with you. I was angry at myself. I was angry at my father, for inventing these stupid laws in the first place and bringing us to this point. I was angry at the world and angry that you loved me too much to tell me the truth about things.” Arthur looks him right in the eye, “You knew my father was lying to me. That day in the throne room. You knew but supported him anyway. Because of me.” 

Merlin squeezes back, looking small and unsure and Arthur’s heart aches for all the difficult decisions he had made alone. All this time. 

“There were a lot of things I kept from you thinking I could fix them so you would never have to bear them.” Merlin finally whispers, head bowed. “I’m sorry Arthur. I can’t tell you how sorry I am that all of this ended up the way it did.” 

“I know. I’m sorry too. But you can’t ever do that again.” With Arthur’s free hand, he tilts up Merlin’s chin, brow set, “If you love me, then you have to guide me out the dark, not just give me a light.”   

Merlin’s lip quirks up, “I’ve done that once you know. When you got me the Mortaeus flower.” 

Arthur doesn’t realize what he’s talking about until it clicks and he barks a laugh. “Of course it was you.” He shakes his head, “Even then.” 

“You must have used magic that first time you saved my life and my father made you my manservant too then.”

Merlin nods.

“You got more than you bargained for with that one, didn’t you?” It feels good to joke, easy.

Merlin smiles, lets out an amused breath. “I did.” He agrees, “But I wouldn’t change anything."

“And that’s the crux of it all.” Arthur says, building up to his big moment, “In the end, despite the anger and the hurt and the terrible way it ended, throughout everything, I missed you like I’d miss half of me. The irony of wanting to talk about this with someone only for wanting that someone to be you was too much.” 

Arthur raises their clasped hands, kissing each one of Merlin’s knuckles. “You mean the world to me Merlin. I don’t tell you enough and knowing me, I doubt I ever will. But you should know that you’re who I think of when I wake up and the last person I want to see before I go to sleep. That I think I only know what real love is because of you and that I never want to be anywhere but by your side.”

“Arthur.” His name spills out like a prayer. 

“Promise me that you won’t hide from me anymore.”

He thinks they both know this will be the thing that breaks him if Merlin can’t say yes.

“Never.” Merlin promises, “Together in all things, I swear it.” And to seal it, Merlin draws him in and Arthur finally gives in.  

They fall to the ground in a heap of limbs but Merlin has his arms wrapped around his neck and he’s kissing him with a passion Arthur never thought he’d be lucky enough to receive. “I love you.” Merlin says between flushed and wanton kisses. “I would go wherever you go, I would follow you to the ends of the earth. Everything of me is yours.”

“I want you to be mine.” Arthur’s voice is low in Merlin’s ear and it sends a shiver down his spine.

“I am.” Merlin promises, “I’m only yours. I only want to be yours.” 

Arthur kisses him hard, hands sliding up Merlin’s sides to his hair, he wants to live in his skin, wants to be so close they can’t tell where the other started or ended. He pulls Merlin closer, cradling his body against his. He kisses Merlin’s nose, his cheek, his brow, his lips. Again and again. “Thank you for being you.”

Merlin’s smile wobbles. He buries his face into Arthur’s neck, squeezing him tight. 

“I know you were afraid that I wouldn’t accept you, that I’d ever think less of you. But you Merlin, are what is truly everything. I never want you to be ashamed of what you are.” 

“Thank you.” Merlin’s words are wet against his neck and Arthur strokes his hair to soothe his tears. 

Love sometimes is just about accepting the other as they are, of finding the right person to speak to the worst part of yourself and say, yell all you want, I still love you anyway. Love won’t make disappear all the scars of your past, but it can mend your present, make you think you’re worthy of a gentler future. In the end, both he and Merlin were just two children who didn’t know if they were worth loving the way they were. The world sought to change them, over and over, but still, they persevered, and then they found each other, and Arthur would take every blow, every hit, every heartbreak, if it meant it would take him back right here. 

Arthur stands up, holding out a hand. “Come on Merlin, let’s head back. The king shouldn’t be rolling around the forest floor.”

Merlin grins at him, salacious, “Would you rather be rolling around on your bed my lord?”

Arthur flushes, right down to his toes and Merlin laughs, giving him a chaste kiss on the lips. “No comeback? You’re getting soft Arthur.” 

Merlin goes to turn away before Arthur grabs him, sweeping him off his feet. “If hard is what you want, that can be arranged.” 

He blinks, having not thought that through and before he can say anything else, Merlin’s laughing and so is he and they’re so ridiculously, stupidly, giddily in love. 

“It’s okay Arthur, I’ll teach you what’s what when we get back. No need to hurt your brain trying now.” 

“Excuse me Merlin, but what would you know about-” 

Merlin brings down his shoulder, cups a hand over his ear. What comes out is so positively filthy Arthur feels his toes curl. “Who on earth taught you that?!” he yells. 

And where can I find them and kill them, he wants to add, but wisely doesn’t. 

Merlin laughs again and he’s so enchanting Arthur has to kiss him again. He kisses him until Merlin’s lips are swollen and there’s a satisfying flush across his cheeks. It’ll take ages for them to get out of this forest Arthur thinks. Merlin’s hands are at his belt, he’s nipping at his jaw. 

Oh well. Arthur thinks. 

The kingdom can do without him for one night.

vi  

The creature rampages through the market, destroying stalls and ripping doors off hinges. The townspeople have already been evacuated, which is just as well, because Merlin looks like what seems to be a mini fireball in his hands and Arthur wants to sigh. How Merlin has never burned an entire village down by accident, he’ll never know.

The beast senses that the magic that can kill it lives in Merlin and swoops down to attack. Arthur throws himself between them, his sword slicing at its claws before it darts away. “Come on then Merlin, chop chop, my sword won’t hold it back forever.”

“Always in a rush.” Merlin goads and Arthur has to refrain from smacking him or kissing him, he never can tell.

The beast roars and charges again, but Arthur is what stands between it and Merlin, therefore it will never get past.  “On me!” he commands and his knights swarm the beast in a circle, swords drawn. 

Why are people loyal to their rulers? They’re not. These are his friends and he’s as devoted to them as they are to him. They didn’t swear oaths to their king, but to the man. 

The beast lunges with its fangs at Gwaine who raises a shield and swats it back as Elyan runs closer for backup. 

“Any time now Merlin!” Arthur yells as they fight to keep the creature in place. 

“I’m working on it! It’s a big ball!” 

There’s a joke in there somewhere, but now’s not the time to make it.

At last, Merlin decides now’s a useful moment to finally help, and the ball of light has grown big enough now that the creature begins to cower. It tries to run away but the knights hold it back in time for Merlin to throw it so that it hits it dead on. The creature howls as the light touches its skin and it disintegrates like it had never been there at all. 

“Ha!” Merlin whoops, bending over as he pants, “Good work everyone!”

Arthur makes a face, “Worst Court Sorcerer there ever was. Poor Leon almost got eaten!”

“I’m fine, sire!” Leon waves a hand but Arthur pointedly ignores him. 

Merlin has the gall to look offended. “You try drawing in pure light at night to defeat a beast that was supposed to be myth up until yesterday while your supposed one true love is yelling at you to hurry up.” 

Arthur sniffs, slightly mollified at being called his one true love though, considering they sleep in the same room and have been formally engaged for months now, you’d think that would please him less. 

“I, for one, think Merlin did a great job.” Gwaine praises and Merlin beams. 

“Yes, well, you think Merlin doing anything is great.” Arthur points out and Gwaine just nods.

“Because it is.” 

“Because it is .” Merlin mouths, laughing at Arthur’s jealous glower. 

Merlin bounds up next to him as they walk back to the castle, tangling their fingers together. “Oh don’t be so petty Arthur.” 

“I’m not petty, I just think you forget sometimes that you’re mine and no one else’s.” 

“Well,” Merlin says thoughtfully, “maybe if you showed me, I’d be less inclined to forget.” 

“Shall I claim you in the throne room then? We had fun last time.” 

There’s a wicked grin on Merlin’s face, “Up until we almost got caught.” 

“Well that’s the thrill of it all isn’t it. I’m the king, what are they going to do?” 

“Well seeing your king on his knees isn’t a particularly kingly image-” 

“Merlin!”  

“ What?? You started it!” that familiar dazzle is in Merlin’s laugh and Arthur tugs him closer. 

“Are the notes prepared for our meeting with the Druids?” 

Merlin’s thumb brushes over his knuckles, “Of course. I also started training with the new knights, once they’ve mastered their magic, I think they’ll make great assets. I was thinking we could have one magic user in every troupe to make sure they’re always prepared.” 

Arthur nods, seeing the merits. “I like that. Make a note of it with Leon to bring up at our next Round Table meeting.” 

It’s been three years since Arthur has become king and already, Camelot is barely recognizable. There are magic trinkets being sold next to fabric from distant lands and children making sticks float and chase one another in the street. There are knights from all families and statuses. There are outlying kingdoms who have been finally enfolded into the security and stability of Camelot’s protection. There are the Knights of the Round Table, revered across the land. There is a Court Sorcerer, the person Arthur loves most in the world. 

Merlin still calls him names and Arthur still throws cups at his head. They argue and bicker and disagree over how much to risk and how much they can bear to lose. Today they will head into meetings, greet a delegation, host a feast, and rule a kingdom. 

Tonight, they will meet in their chambers, Arthur will crack a joke that will have Merlin throwing his head back with laughter. Arthur will kiss his throat and let his hands wander. They will fall into each other, just as enamoured as they’ve always been. Arthur will sleep knowing they’re both better men because of the other, that everything they’ve built is shared between them both.

He wishes he could go back in time to hug the little boy who cried when he realized he was all alone. “One day you will meet a man worth dying for. You will find friends you can build a country with. You will create a world of peace and prosperity where the people don’t starve and don’t die in pointless wars waged by greedy men. All the love you deprived yourself of will be given to you in the embrace of someone you love back just as fiercely.”

“Arthur, you’re caught in a thought again.” Merlin brings him back to earth, looking at him curiously. 

“What?” 

Merlin lets out a little laugh, a wry grin on his face, “Were you just enchanted by me sire? It’s okay, you can admit it.” 

Arthur snorts, “Are you confessing to enchanting the king? That’s treason, you know.” 

“Oh it’s fine.” Merlin fake whispers, leaning in close like he was telling a secret, “I’m immune to the law, you know. I have an in with him you see.”   

“Really? What are you offering exactly, for him to let you off that easy?” 

“It would be easier for me to just show you I think.” Merlin pulls him into an alley, laughing into his kisses. 

Arthur pulls him in closer, the crown Merlin helped him earn glinting in the moonlight. What a wonderful thing, to have been worthy of love all along.