Chapter Text
Arthur stretched in his chair, groaning at the ache from stiff muscles of his neck. He was working on the reports since afternoon, and now Merlin was already moving across the chambers, lighting candles for the evening. Of course, it wouldn't be Merlin if he didn't stumble over something midway through the process, making Arthur chuckle.
Soon the room was alight again, the fireplace crackling and furniture casting elongated shadows in it's light. While Arthur still pretended to be busy with documents, his eyes were constantly drawn to Merlin, who was sitting in front of the fireplace, polishing a chestplate. His hair was shining in the firelight, looking more of a glowing warm brown than it's usual coal black. He hadn't cut it for some time, seeing as it was curling wildly around his ears and on the back of his neck.
Merlin turned his head, as if having sensed Arthur looking at him, and sent him a questioning eyebrow - one terrifyingly similar to Gaius's, although not quite there yet - at which Arthur only shook his head and averted his eyes, trying to focus on paperwork again.
To be honest, Arthur knew that he was being ridiculous. It took him a lot of time and effort to admit even to himself that he had feelings for Merlin - feelings one usually does not harbour for a friend, let alone one's servant. However, it turned out that now, being entirely too aware of those feelings, it began affecting his everyday life, particularly the way he acted around Merlin. There was no way he didn't notice. It was a miracle he hadn't been questioned about it already.
He'd have to either get over it, or tell him.
Tell him- tell Merlin what? That he was always looking forward to seeing Merlin's face first thing in the morning? That he felt flustered every time his fingers brush his skin when dressing him? That he wouldn't have been the same person without Merlin, and quite frankly, would fall apart if anything happened to him? That he wanted to hold him close and never let go?
That he fell — stupidly and irreversibly — in love with Merlin?
Arthur sighed, letting his head fall down on the desk. If he knew one thing for certain, that being - it certainly wasn't going away. Not any time soon. Never at all, more likely.
"Arthur?" He heard coming from above.
"Mhm-"
"Get up. If you're going to fall asleep, do it on the bed, because I am not dragging your sleeping body there and you'll be complaining about your neck all day tomorrow." Merlin nudged his shoulder, but Arthur refused to budge.
"You'll get ink stains on your face." He persisted, exasperated. "And I'm not telling you if you do! Imagine, the king of Camelot, walking around with scribbles on his forehead, like a total prat."
Arthur tried to muster an offended noise at that, finally getting up, only to walk two steps and very deliberately fall face first into the mattress. He wasn't that tired, really, but annoying Merlin was too fun to pass on the opportunity.
Arthur heard Merlin sigh rather theatrically and felt the mattress dip under added weight. He turned over onto his back.
"You still need to get dressed for the night — at least take off the shoes." Merlin huffed, poking Arthur's side. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking unusually relaxed. He lost his jacket somewhere during the evening and was only wearing a tunic, making him look soft in the evening's candlelight.
Really, he couldn't help but stare.
"Merlin?"
"Hm?"
"I think I'm in love with you."
Merlin's eyes widened. He froze. He must've misheard.
"What?"
Arthur was looking at him directly, with his sleepy eyes and golden hair sticking out.
His king, but never his, not like that.
"I love you." Arthur said, again. He didn't mishear.
Oh.
Oh, this is some sort of mistake.
I love you too, he wants to say. Why does his heart beat so fast, blocking the air from his lungs, making his eyes water-
"Merlin?" Arthur asked, concern evident in his soft voice. "I'm- I am sorry, if I made you uncomfortable."
Merlin violently shook his head.
"You don't mean it." You can't.
It was Arthur's turn to sport the wide-eyed look.
"What makes you say that?"
"No."
"No?"
"You cannot- you don't. It can't be."
"If I- If it makes you uncomfortable, you can just say so." Arthur said, sounding almost dejected.
Merlin shook his head again. There were tears welling in his eyes.
You don't mean it, because you don't know me. And you would hate me if you did.
Please don't say it. Don't go giving me glimpses of what could never be.
Of all the things Arthur could have expected, this was not it.
It's not that he even expected Merlin to reciprocate, no. He knew he didn't see him that way. Arthur expected him to maybe laugh it off. Or be revolted. He didn't know, he didn't think that far.
He did not expect Merlin to burst into tears without explanation.
Arthur was lost. Somehow, he ended up awkwardly half-hugging Merlin, while the man was quietly sobbing into his shoulder. His entire form was shuddering with it. Arthur tried to draw him closer, to console somehow, probably - and Merlin complied, tugging at his tunic, leaning closer, hiding his face deeper in the crevice of Arthur's shoulders, stubbornly refusing to meet his eyes.
It was his fault, it was his weakness. He let Arthur hold him, let his touches linger. Let himself long for it so, and be distraught, because he could never have this, not truly.
Arthur may truly believe his words, truly think he- loves him. But he didn't know him, the real him, the worst him, the parts he would hate — Merlin was careful to never let him see. Not a glimpse of gold. Arthur didn't know.
"Will you tell me what's wrong?" Arthur whispered some time later, sounding terribly unsure of himself. Merlin's sobs died down a little a while ago, but his eyes were still wet and red-rimmed and his cheeks tear-stained.
"Nothing. Nothing." He mumbled unconvincingly.
"Is it about what I said earlier?"
Merlin didn't answer, but his silence was answer enough.
"Merlin, you must know I never wanted to pressure you, believe me, I know you don't feel the same-"
He couldn't finish, because Merlin lunged forward and captured his lips. His hands both went around Arthur's neck, pulling him in with unexpected force.
"Clotpole." He muttered shakily, withdrawing his lips, hands still in place. "I do."
"But why-" Arthur started, as his mind was reeling from everything that happened. The blissful moment of the kiss was all but overshadowed by worry and confusion. "Why then were you-?"
He stared at Merlin, trying to find an answer, something that would make it make sense. Merlin never made sense. The man was full of contradiction. His sudden dissapearances, bouts of wisdom, quiet moments of moodiness for no apparent reason. But he was always fine the next day, with jokes and sharp insults on the ready, and Arthur didn't want to pry. And every time he did pry, Merlin would joke it off, or change the topic so masterfully that Arthur would be swept away in their usual banter before he ever realised the trick - and then the moment was gone, and he couldn't muster the courage again.
There were things Merlin wasn't telling him, and Arthur knew that. He also knew that he trusted Merlin more than any other person in his life. And maybe, maybe, it hurt just a little that for Merlin, it wasn't the same.
It was all his fault again. He shouldn't have kissed Arthur. But he did, because he loved Arthur, and couldn't bear him thinking he did not.
What difference would it have made? You lied to him so many times, but this is where you decide to draw the line? A satirical voice mocked inside his head.
It felt like a punch in the gut, every time he remembered the weight of his lies. He should've been crushed by it long ago. Maybe, it was this one lie - one he couldn't tell - that would've done it for him.
But now Arthur was staring at him, confused, and altogether looking quite miserable, waiting for any sort of answer. An explanation.
He didn't know how he was supposed to do it. Say anything while looking Arthur in the eye. Sitting practically in his lap. Having just kissed Arthur, his King, who was now looking at him soft-eyed and open-lipped.
"You would hate me if you knew." He couldn't believe he was really doing it.
But he already let Arthur hold him. Heard him say that he loved him. Kissed his lips. There wasn't a going back from it, and Merlin only had himself to blame. He couldn't let Arthur love him based on a lie, he wouldn't have allowed it were it any other person in Merlin's place - it would be the worst kind of trickery.
Lying to Arthur as his servant was bad already. There couldn't be anything else between them, and Arthur should know it.
Arthur, who had the audacity to laugh.
"I couldn't hate you if I tried!"
He sounded so certain of it.
"You're only saying it now." Merlin had to drop his eyes. The choking shame was climbing up his throat, cutting off his air.
He felt Arthur grip his shoulders, as if he wanted to shake him. Or maybe to keep him in place, unable to run. He needn't worry, though. Merlin had no strength to run left. "What kind of secret could you have that would be so terrible? Look at me." He commanded, and Merlin had no option but to look in his painfully earnest eyes.
"I know you, Merlin, I may not know the things you're hiding but I know you. And I love you."
Merlin sharply tried to pull away.
"So you know it, then! There are things that you don't know, you don't know what I've done-" He was choking on his words, pushing his hands against Arthur's chest. "You don't know what I am!"
Something pained showed in Arthur's eyes.
"And what are you?" He asked in a very quiet voice, almost breaking into a whisper.
This is it, then. Suddenly, all tightness in his throat dissolved, leaving a smooth path for the truth to spill out.
"I have magic." He said, feeling terribly calm.
He was exhausted, by this evening. By the hiding, by the constant lies. It all felt empty. Let Arthur see.
"I am magic."