Archive of Our Own ^beta

It started with a flash of purple in the window. 

Arthur glanced at the store’s display but couldn’t see what caught his attention. It wasn’t a big shop, nearly invisible between larger stores selling brighter, flashier wares. It didn’t even have a name, just a hand-written Open sign, a tiny display window, and sprigs of rosemary and lavender tied above the door. 

Arthur hesitated at the entrance, fingers hovering over the doorknob. He really didn’t have time for this, he’d been away from the castle too long already, but something about the store compelled him. 

It didn’t look like anything special, just another curio shop full of trinkets and oddities, something his father would scoff at. Royalty doesn’t need to dig through the trash, he’d said one of the few times he took Arthur into town as a child. 

Arthur understood the sentiment, even if he didn’t agree with it. Secretly, shamefully, he loved tiny strange shops like this. It was one of the few things he and Morgana had in common. She used to sweet talk his tutors into letting him out of his lessons early, squirreling him out of the castle to explore all the hidden corners of the city. He used to spend hours weaving through cramped isles, sifting through baskets of jewelry, and brushing curious hands over piles of exotic wares, each new item stranger and more wonderful than the last. 

There was nothing like finding something truly special, a hidden treasure tucked away in a forgotten nook.

 Arthur had always loved the thrill of the hunt. 

He still took time to see the city, even though Uther would have a fit if he knew about it. Official petitions were all fine and good, but Arthur wanted to see how Camelot was doing with his own eyes, hear with his own ears. You’d be surprised by the things you learn ducking through the market square or nursing a beer at the tavern. He tried to make time once a month, clearing his schedule and sending Merlin on a time consuming errand so he could change into an outfit he’d ‘borrowed’ from his plain and simple wardrobe, stashed in one of the many forgotten tunnels running underneath the castle. 

He glanced at the sun steadily lowering behind him, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth (a habit he developed in childhood and never broke), stuck in an uncomfortably familiar dilemma— torn between duty and desire. 

“Come on in, dear,” a voice called from inside the shop, startling him out of his thoughts. “We’re open.”

And with that, the decision was made. Arthur stepped over the threshold, propelled by the voice of the shopkeeper and maybe a softer, quieter voice. The voice inside himself. 

The interior of the shop was lit with enough candles to feel cozy, but not so many as to be dim. An intricate set of brass bells announced his entrance, and as the door quietly shut behind him, the busy street behind him fell away, along with the rest of the world. 

“Welcome in,” the shopkeeper greeted. She was a woman around the same age as Merlin’s mother, with a kind face and observant eyes. Her hair, streaked with gray, fell in soft waves past her shoulders, long and well cared for. Layers of fabric draped her figure, accentuated with all sorts of jewelry— long necklaces, jeweled pendants, and metal rings. Though she dressed and looked very different from what Arthur was used to, something about her instantly put him at ease. “I’m Maeve, what can I do for you?”

“I’m just looking around. Your shop caught my eye.”

“Oh?” She leaned forward, resting two heavily-braceleted wrists on the counter. “How curious indeed. Not everybody notices this store. Not everybody can. It takes a very special person to see something in the window. You, I can tell, are a very special person.” 

Arthur wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but she nodded at him approvingly as she spoke, like she could see right into his soul and found him worthy. He tried very hard to suppress the little boy in his heart who wanted to preen and gloat that somebody noticed him, and they liked what they saw. 

“Don’t be shy now,” she continued, “tell me what caught your eye.”

“Oh, well… I’m not quite sure, only that it was… purple.” He winced inwardly at his awkwardness, but Maeve nodded as if he’d said something completely sensible. 

“Yes, I see. That must be our crystal collection. Come right this way.”

He followed her deeper into the store, passing shelves of dried herbs, candles in every color, swaths of shimmering fabric, bowls carved out of all sorts of bone and stone, marveling all the while at how much bigger this store truly was than it appeared from the outside. 

“Here we go. The crystals.”

Arthur gaped at the wall in front of him, adorned with hundreds and hundreds of crystals. They came in all sorts of sizes, ranging from as small as a snail to the size of his head. Some of the crystals were rough and natural, like they were still a part of the earth they were taken from. Some were carved into intricate designs, embellished with symbols, or shaped into tall, pointed obelisks. Others were polished so smooth he could see his reflection perfectly. That’s not to mention the wide array of colors, some so unique he was sure he’d never seen anything quite like it before. His eyes darted from a crystal so black it seemed to be an endless black pit to a broken open stone with pure gold inside, shimmering with temptation. He saw a blue stone the very color of Merlin’s eyes and quickly glanced away. 

“Now I believe you said purple.” Maeve gestured to a section of the wall reserved exclusively for purple crystals and stones. “Which one of these catches your eye? Don’t overthink it, just see what you feel. The crystal will call to you.”

Pursing his lips, Arthur surveyed the collection. He liked some of the larger ones, and preferred the deeper purple crystals to the lighter, lilac ones. There were purple crystals on chains and purple crystals in rings and small purple crystals separated into bags, but they all felt the same to him. He glanced at Maeve, who looked on in excitement, and swallowed nervously. He didn’t want to disappoint her. He’d just have to choose one and pretend it ‘called’ to him, whatever that meant. 

He started to point to a medium-sized sparkly one when his hand hovered over a smaller crystal he hadn’t noticed before. The color reminded him of the violets Merlin placed in his room the week before, vibrant and streaked with white and indigo.

“Ah, charoite,” Maeve murmured, picking up the small crystal. “It’s been a long time since someone has chosen charoite.” 

She handed him the crystal, and Arthur turned it over in his hand. It was smooth and round but oddly shaped, and the colors and swirls looked even more intricate up close. As he held it, he felt… something. Not a jolt or a spark, but a gentle wave of calm. As he held it, all of the voices in his head fell silent. The council, his father, his knights, Morgana, even Merlin’s endearing babble— it all faded. 

“That crystal you hold in your hand is a very interesting one,” Maeve said. “Charoite is the crystal of transformation. It’s often used to release negative emotions and build inner strength. Charoite has been known to assist people going through a spiritual awakening, as it helps open your third eye.” She brushed her thumb across Arthur’s forehead, right at the center of the brow. “Chariote is not a crystal for the weak in spirit, but instead for those with a curious nature, an open mind, and a willing heart. That it has chosen you does you a great service, Arthur.”

He closed his fist around the crystal, hoping to calm his swirling thoughts. “Thank you. It truly is beautiful. How many coins to purchase it?”

But Maeve only laughed, and it sounded like the brass bells that welcomed Arthur into the shop. “I couldn't possibly charge you for something that was already yours,” and before Arthur could argue, she nodded towards the window. “Best be getting along now. It’s nearly dark.”

And so it was. Arthur was going to be in a world of hurt when he got back to his chambers. He knew what he’d see: an angry and worried manservant, arms crossed and eyes narrowed in open disapproval. Then he’d be in for a long, undeterrable lecture, and a cold dinner, and a lukewarm bath. Then a frosty goodnight, If he still wasn’t forgiven. If he was able to thaw Merlin’s icy demeanor before he left, maybe he'd get one of those small, dimpled smiles Merlin seemed to save for the end of the day when Arthur was being particularly good. 

Probably not though. When Merlin was mad, he held a grudge. And nothing made Merlin madder than finding out Arthur wasn’t where he was supposed to be. The irony was not lost on Arthur. 

He thanked Maeve and left the shop, slipping the smooth crystal into his pocket. 

He left so fast he didn’t realize he hadn’t given Maeve his name. 

…

The next few weeks were relatively calm. He never thought he’d be unnerved by having a peaceful, uneventful moment for once, but it was a little off putting. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but he was expecting something. He’d gone into a magic shop, he was sure of it, and he walked out relatively unscathed. Lightning didn’t strike him dead, he didn’t get possessed by the crystal, his father didn’t take one look at him and drag him to the dungeons. 

The only thing that changed was a small, fluttering feeling of guilt when he sat and thought about it too long. He knew he should report Maeve, report the witch. Her shop could be full of dangerous magical artifacts to be used against the citizens of Camelot or even the royal family, but Arthur just… didn’t want to. She didn’t seem harmful, she seemed just like all the other shop owners in the lower town. To his knowledge, she hadn’t hurt anybody, and if Arthur reported her, she would be hung or worse, burned. His father was much too quick to condemn his citizens for magic use, even without proof. 

And if the crystal was magic… was it really so bad? Arthur didn’t feel an evil stirring in his soul, like he thought he might. Nobody even noticed a change in his behavior except Merlin, who commented that he seemed calmer. He felt it too. There was something soothing about rubbing his thumb along the purple crystal. It helped ground him, giving him something to do with his hands as he contemplated matters of state or magic, the main two things on his mind these days.

Well, matters of state, magic, and Merlin. 

He’d been acting strange lately, and Arthur wanted to get to the bottom of it. He kept odd times, disappearing when Arthur most wanted to see him, appearing when he didn’t; he was more exhausted than usual, nearly falling asleep into Arthur’s plate as he cleaned up dinner the previous night; he was even clumsier these days, tripping over his feet and Arthur’s feet and walking into walls; and then there was today, when Arthur grabbed his arm to steer him out of the way of a stray wooden sword on the training field and he flinched. 

Sure, Arthur had a habit of throwing various items at Merlin’s head, but Merlin only ever flinched when they were roughhousing, not from Arthur’s touch. 

It was concerning. It was even more concerning that Arthur had just noticed. The more he thought about it, the more he realized he’d been remiss as Merlin’s prince. He ought to be paying close enough attention to his manservant to notice if he was struggling. Yes, it was Merlin’s job to serve him, but Arthur had a duty to Merlin as well. It was his job to make sure Merlin was well-adjusted and happy, at least relatively. 

He’d lost sleep the past few nights turning the matter over and over in his mind. Was someone giving Merlin a hard time? It was unfortunately the thing that made the most sense. The stress, the nervous glances, the bruises Arthur noticed on his skin. Even more than that, Merlin lied when asked about it. The only reason Arthur could think for why he’d do that is if he didn’t feel safe. 

Well, that was something Arthur could help with. 

Or so he thought. 

He spent the next week following Merlin around, interrogating his knights, and even asking Morgana if she’d heard any palace gossip regarding Merlin. The only thing he’d learned was that several of the kitchen maids and at least one stablehand fancied themselves in love with him. Arthur did his best to forget that little tidbit that Morgana seemed way too gleeful to relay.

He ended the week frustrated, unsure what to do if he couldn’t figure out the problem himself and Merlin kept dodging his questions. He didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but the thought that someone was hurting his manservant made him want to punch somebody. Repeatedly. Maybe until they died. Who would want to hurt Merlin? He could be annoying, but he was ultimately harmless. Maybe someone thought they could use him to get to Arthur?

He rolled the charoite crystal in his hand as he contemplated all the options, feet up on his desk in his chambers at the end of the day. 

“If you keep thinking that hard, your face might get stuck like that. Then how will you woo all of the kingdom’s noblewomen?” Merlin whisked into his chambers with a glass of wine and a few bites of cheese like he always did when he thought Arthur was having a tough day. Arthur had tried to tell him it wasn’t necessary, but in typical Merlin fashion, he didn’t listen. 

“What a shame,” Arthur muttered, swinging his boots off the desk. He ate a bite of cheese and took a sip of wine and refused to think about how it actually did make him feel better. Maybe what really made him feel better was the sound of Merlin bustling around the room, tidying up in the quiet, confident way he did most things.

“Merlin,” he said after another long moment. He fiddled with the crystal in his hand, finding it easier to look at than Merlin. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

The bustling movement stopped. “Did someone tell you I didn’t finish mucking out Hengroen’s stall? Cause I’ll have you know—”

“I’m serious.” He looked up at Merlin, who was looking at him with an unreadable expression on his face. Arthur hated this look, hated when he didn’t know exactly what Merlin was thinking. “If something’s going on, you can tell me. I’ll help you.”

Something flickered across Merlin’s eyes, and then he laughed just a little. Arthur would never admit it, but it hurt. “Feeling generous today, sire? You’re going to fight your manservant’s battles?”

“Yes,” he said plaintively, trying not to be harsh. “You’re a manservant, you shouldn’t have battles, unless it’s with a stubborn rust stain on my armor. Anything more than that, you come to me. You would, right? If someone was bothering you? Or if you needed something?”

There it was again, that unreadable stare, the one that cut right through him. Merlin got this look on his face sometimes, like he was a thousand miles away. Sometimes it was followed with some strange declaration of devotion. Other times, by several days of sullen silence. Arthur never could tell what brought these moods on. 

“Yes, my lord.” His eyes were so honest, they flayed Arthur open like a knife. 

Especially when he knew Merlin was lying. 

….

The dilemma Arthur was facing was that he didn’t know where to turn. If he couldn’t figure out who was hurting Merlin, then he couldn’t protect him. More than likely it was one of the minor lords or one of his father’s knights. Both options were less than ideal. Most of the nobles thought they were the heavens’ gift to Camelot, used to getting their way and completely spoiled. Some of the wealthier lords were calmer, content with their lot, but the minor lords… Arthur knew their type. Entitled, cruel, and worst of all, desperate to wield their power over someone else. If one of them was Merlin’s antagonizer, it didn’t bode well. All it would take was one escalation and Merlin would find himself in a bind Arthur couldn’t get him out of without risking political conflict. 

His father’s knights were hardly a better option. Most of those men were older and battle-worn. The wars they’d fought in changed them, made them jumpy, angry, and violent. One wrong move and Merlin would end up on the wrong side of a sword. It wouldn’t be the first time it had happened. 

The thought made Arthur sick. How could no one know what’s going on? He’d even asked Gaius if he’d noticed anything, and though he looked uncomfortable, he told Arthur no. He was obviously lying, but most likely he was just as clueless as Arthur, worried about Merlin but not wanting to start a castle-wide investigation. 

It was endlessly frustrating, and Arthur lost more than one night of sleep about it. If it were any other servant, he’d have let it go. He pursued the issues as far as he could, there was nowhere else to look, no one else to ask. But this wasn’t another servant, it was Merlin. Merlin, who’d saved his life more than once. Merlin, who’d changed his life in ways Arthur was truthfully uncomfortable thinking about. Merlin, who followed him around chattering about castle gossip when Arthur was nervous, who whispered horrible jokes in his ear during feasts when Arthur was at risk of falling asleep face-first into his soup, who couldn’t organize his room or fold for shit but somehow always made sure Arthur’s clothes were wrinkle free and clean and somehow the most vibrant in the castle, even when Arthur knew Merlin would rather he look a wrinkled, sweaty mess for whatever nobleman’s daughter he was supposed to win over that day. Merlin, who brushed Arthur’s hair with the intensity and dedication of a baker for a royal wedding, all gentle hands and soulful eyes and solemn, reverent demeanor. Merlin, who still smiled like that foolish young boy he was when Arthur first met him. Merlin, who always smelled like wildflowers.

With a scowl, Arthur pushed away from his desk and shrugged on his old worn coat. He knew what he had to do, even if Merlin wouldn’t like it. It was for his own good, anyway. What Merlin didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. 

…

The bells sounded exactly the same as Arthur entered Maeve’s shop a second time. Just like the first time, it was completely empty with the exception of Maeve, who didn’t notice Arthur until he cleared his throat, too busy braiding a few long, coarse pieces of rope. 

“Oh, hello,” she greeted, her bracelets clanking together as she waved. “I thought I might see you again. Give me one second to finish this and I’ll be right with you.” 

Arthur stood awkwardly in the doorway as her hands expertly twisted the rope, stopping every few seconds to add a colorful bead. It reminded him of the time he found Morgana adding jewels to Gwen’s hair in her chambers. They’d both turned pale when they saw him, and Morgana swore him to secrecy or she’d tell Uther that Arthur was the one who ruined his favorite sword by sharpening it before he was given the proper instructions back when he was still a squire. Why she thought he’d care about Gwen’s hair accessories was beyond him. 

“There,” Maeve said, tying the end in a complicated knot. “All done!” She brushed her hands together and tucked the project away somewhere behind the desk. “How is the charoite treating you? Not having any problems, I hope?”

“No,” Arthur subconsciously touched the stone in his pocket. “The crystal has been perfect, thank you. I’m surprised to find it’s worked quite well. I’ve felt much calmer these past few weeks.”

She smiled, pleased, and Arthur felt the familiar rush of satisfaction he used to get back when he answered a question correctly for one of his tutors. 

“I knew it would serve you well. Chariote does wonders for the mind. What are you looking for this time? Another crystal?”

“Not exactly.” Arthur grimaced internally, trying to think of how to phrase it. “I have a… friend… who’s struggling. I suspect someone might be hurting him, but I can’t prove it. I’m worried he’s in danger.”

Maeve’s expression turned understanding, and Arthur fought against the urge to look away from her gentle gaze. “I see. A crystal could help, but l’m not sure if it’s the right choice for this situation. A crystal is most helpful when the person seeks it out for themself. They have to want to change, you understand.”

Arthur did. Whatever was going on in Merlin’s life, he wasn’t ready to ask anyone for help with it. As much as it stung, it was true. “Is there anything else I can do? This person is- well, he’s very important to me. I’m discreet, and I can pay handsomely.”

He tried not to sound desperate, but in truth, he was desperate. If there was anything he could do to keep Merlin safe, he would. Merlin wasn’t a fighter like Arthur. He was trusting and shockingly gentle and would never fight back. He’d probably apologize to his murderer for the mess, the daft git. Arthur had to save him from himself as much as whoever was hurting him. It was Arthur’s job to keep him safe, and goddamnit he was going to do it. 

“I don’t need your coins, Arthur Pendragon.”

Arthur startled at his full name, immediately on guard. When had Maeve figured out his identity? Was it because he offered to pay handsomely? Did she think this was a trap to accuse her of sorcery? He wouldn’t blame her if she did, but it also meant Arthur could end up in some trouble. A cornered sorcerer was no joke. 

“Don’t be alarmed,” she said before he could reach for his hidden dagger. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’ve known who you are since the second you stepped foot into my shop. You’re one of a kind, Prince Arthur, and my magic could sense it. You aren’t a threat to me, and I’m not one to you. Now come, I will help you with your friend.”

Wearily, he dropped his hand away from his cloak and followed Maeve, who ducked into a little back room on the side of the shop. It was tiny, barely a closet, and she rummaged around for a moment before reemerging with a small handwritten book. She pressed it into his hand, placing her palm on top.  

“Inside this book are instructions for a protection charm. It doesn’t require traditional magic, anyone can create one. The love of a friend is a very powerful thing. Your love is strong and true, and your intentions are pure. This charm will keep your friend safe.”

She squeezed his hand once before letting go. 

Arthur didn’t know how to feel. His head was still reeling from her confrontation earlier, and part of him balked at the blatant talk of sorcery and magic. However, the thought that there was a charm that could protect Merlin filled him with hope. This was exactly what he needed. 

“Thank you,” he choked out. “How much?”

She only smiled. “Think of this as a gift from a friend. You’re a good prince, and you’ll be an even better king. Feel free to use anything else in this book. It’s beginner friendly, and I’ve tested everything myself. It’s all very benign, positive magic. Nothing in here will hurt anyone, including you. You can’t go wrong.”

“Maeve-”

“What you are risking is payment enough. Now off with you,” she shooed. “I’m not finished with my braiding.”

And with that, Arthur was swept out of the little peculiar store, one hand in his pocket around the chariote, the other clutching a forbidden book of magic underneath his coat. 

…

It took Arthur another week to find time where he was alone for long enough to really look at the book. He was well aware that every day he waited was another bruise on Merlin’s body, but the last thing he wanted was for Merlin himself to catch him. If he found out Arthur was considering using magic on him, he’d never let him go through with it. Even assuming he wouldn’t report Arthur to the king, he’d probably lose all trust in him. Arthur wouldn’t blame him for it, he didn’t have any way to know that not all magic was harmful. As much as Arthur wanted to confide in him, to talk about his experiences, it was just too unpredictable. Keeping Merlin safe was more important than seeking his counsel, no matter how much Arthur wished he could. 

He assembled the ingredients slowly throughout the week, and once he had everything he needed, he hid it with the book until nightfall, long after Merlin left and the whole castle went to sleep. 

The moon was full and bright through his window, which was perfect for his purposes. He didn’t want to use too many candles, he didn’t need anyone seeing the light and investigating or, god forbid, interrupting. The book also said the full moon was the most advantageous time to create a protection charm. Apparently different types of moon phases bolstered different magical properties. Certain spells were best cast during a full moon, like protection work. However other spells, like banishing spirits or fae creatures, should never be cast on a full moon. He hadn’t realized magic was quite this meticulous and complicated. It was a wonder sorcerers got anything done. 

Arthur retrieved his ingredients from their hiding spot and laid them out on his table, double checking that he wasn’t missing anything: rosemary, lavender, sage, and mugwort; three petals from Merlin’s favorite flower; a candle, a sprinkle of salt; the dregs of Merlin’s tea leaves (which had not been easy to obtain); and a lock of Merlin’s hair (which had been alarmingly easy to obtain). 

A couple of the items were less tangible than others. One ingredient was ‘a memento of a tangible memory.’ After painstaking consideration, Arthur chose a four leaf clover he’d plucked off of Merlin’s head several months prior, one lazy day during summer where Arthur let himself play truant, laying in the clover fields with Merlin, talking about nothing and making up ridiculous cloud shapes, trying to force the other person to call their bluff. It was the best day that summer, and Arthur didn’t regret it, not even during the tremendous tongue lashing he got from Uther when he returned. 

The book also called for a few drops of Arthur’s tears. They came embarrassingly quickly, and once he’d caught them, dripping off his eyelashes into a small glass bottle, he wiped his face and resolved never to think of it again. 

The final ingredient was a whispered wish. That one didn’t take any time to think of at all. 

The instructions were pretty simple, all things considered. First, he added all of the ingredients except the wish and the tears into a small bowl and mixed them together, ensuring the herbs were finely chopped. Next, he set the ingredients on fire until the whole thing burned and only ash remained. It burned bright and fast, and left a trail of smoke curling up to the sky. 

The necklace itself was a small metal dragon on a chain, shining in pendragon gold; it wouldn’t hurt to have his personal crest on Merlin’s neck, reminding everyone who he belonged to. 

He picked up the necklace from where it lay on the table and gently covered it in the ash. The gray soot obscured the golden glow, but that was okay. He’d polish it until it shone like new so that everyone could see it. But not yet. First, he must complete the spell. 

He held the ash-coated dragon up to his mouth and whispered the wish into his cupped hands, for the dragon’s ears only. Finally, he cleaned the necklace in a bowl of moon water mixed with his tears, washing all of the ash off. 

As he lifted it from the water, the necklace caught the light of the moon. It glinted in the dark room like something special, something otherworldly. Like magic. 

Sure of his success, Arthur set the necklace in his office drawer to give to Merlin tomorrow. He wasn’t sure what this charm would do, if anything, but he’d held it in his hands, and he’d pressed it to his lips, and he’d willed all of his strength and protection and fervent desire for Merlin to be okay into the metal.

He’d broken his father’s laws for Merlin, Uther’s one cardinal rule, and that had to count for something. Arthur just wasn’t sure what. 

…

“Merlin,” Arthur drawled as his servant made the final adjustments on Arthur’s outfit, straightening his coat, brushing clinical hands down his chest to smooth out the wrinkles, twisting his belt the right direction so the buckle faced the front. “It’s come to my attention that you don’t have anything to wear to the feast.”

“Hm?” Merlin hummed, distracted. Arthur tried not to focus too much on Merlin’s touch and how used to it he was. “Of course I have something to wear, I’m wearing it right now.”

“No, Merlin. I mean something befitting your station. You’re not just any other servant, you’re the crown prince’s manservant, and you should be treated as such. As it is, you look like one of the kitchen boys.”

Merlin looked up from where he knelt on the floor tying Arthur’s boots to roll his eyes at him. The sight didn’t make Arthur feel any particular way at all. “Thanks, sire. Compliments really mean a lot, coming from you.”

Of all the disrespectful, insubordinate- 

“I’m trying to give you something, you idiot.”

Merlin blinked, rising to his feet. “Is it a smack for having a smart mouth again?”

“I ought to, but no.” He pulled the necklace out from the desk drawer and held it up so Merlin could see. “When people see you wearing this, they’ll know you’re a favored servant of the royal household. No one will pull you aside for extra chores or give you any trouble.”

“Oh,” Merlin breathed, stepping closer to see the neckless. “It’s so-“ he stared at the metal dragon for a long moment, then looked sharply at Arthur. “Where did you get this?”

“I had it commissioned, if you must know. Now put it on.”

“But… sire…” he hesitated. “This necklace, it’s… I really shouldn’t…”

“I know, Merlin,” Arthur waved a hand. “It’s too much and I shouldn’t have, but it’s not and I did, so put it on.”

Merlin gave the necklace a very hesitant look. At this rate, they were going to be late for the feast. 

“Turn around, I’ll put it on you myself.”

Obedient for once in his life, Merlin turned, and Arthur stepped closer, half an inch from Merlin’s back. They were so close he could feel the heat of him through their clothes. Much more gently than he’d have done if they were standing face to face, Arthur reached over Merlin’s head and slipped the necklace around his throat. If his hands brushed the pale skin as he did so, that was no one’s business but his own. 

“There,” he said in a strangled voice. “Now no one will bother you.”

“Is that what this is about?” The necklace looked so right on Merlin, as if it had always been there. “You want to be the only one bossing me around?”

The words were jocular, but the way he brushed a thumb subconsciously across the dragon charm spoke of something else entirely. He was doing that thing again, where he looked at Arthur like he’d placed the very moon in the sky. It was just as overwhelming as it was every time it happened. 

“Of course I do. Now if you’re done asking stupid questions, we’re nearly late to dinner. If I see you serving anyone else wine but me, I will give you so many chores tomorrow you’ll wish you actually were a kitchen boy.”

He stomped out of the room, and Merlin followed with a stupid smile on his stupid face. “Yes, sire.”

…

It didn’t take long for servants and nobles alike to notice Merlin’s new jewelry. According to Morgana, it was quite the talk of the castle. 

“Really, Arthur,” she scolded during their weekly stroll through the garden, a thinly veiled excuse to exchange information and insult each other in turns. “Did you have to mark the boy so publicly? It’s all anyone can talk about. Merlin’s bound to notice the way everyone stares at him when he enters a room.”

“What of it?” He shrugged, brushing his hand along a lavender flower, recalling the spell. “People around here gossip about everything, it’s what they do. If it wasn’t the necklace, it would be the way he trips down the stairs or his latest botched haircut. It’ll blow over in a week tops.”

Morgana rolled her eyes at him, batting his hand away from the lavender. “Stop it, you’re ruining the petals.”

They walked in silence a few more moments before she spoke again, glancing at him slyly from underneath her obscenely long eyelashes. She looked like a spider, happy to trap a helpless fly in her web. “It’s clear that you’re fond of him, everyone can see that. There’s even talk that you’ll make him your favorite.”

Arthur tripped over his own feet. Morgana, the cow, clearly expected it, helping him regain his balance with a steadying hand on his arm, as if she wouldn’t be delighted to watch him fall on his face. 

“There’s what?”

“You know Arthur, I don’t see how you didn’t see this coming,” she said conversationally, as if this whole thing weren’t completely ridiculous. “You dote on him, even Uther can see it. Nicer clothes, choice bits of your meal, the leftover water from your bath-”

“How do you know about that?” He interrupted, indignant, but she just kept going.

“You let him get away with anything he likes, and everyone knows it. At this point, I don’t think there’s anything he can do to get fired. You might send him to the stocks every once in a while, but I also know you’ve significantly increased his salary from what your previous manservant was paid.”

Arthur looked away, embarrassed. “He was sending all of it home to his mother. It didn’t seem right.”

For some reason, that of all things made Morgana stop moving, looking at him with one of those looks she got on her face when she was proud of him or something. “Oh Arthur. He’s good for you, can’t you see that? I think you should make him your favorite. No, don’t argue with me, just listen. You deserve something good in your life. Merlin makes you happy, and you make him happy too. He just adores you, everyone knows that as well. In fact,” she said conspiratorially, “just last week one of the squires paid him to keep you from training because he was terribly hung over, but Merlin wouldn’t do it. He offered him a whole gold coin, and do you know what Merlin said?”

“He- what? Who-”

“Hush, he said ‘If you think I care about money more than Arthur, you must be more addled than you look. He may be a condescending, stuck up prat, but he’s my prince, and he’s ten times the man you’ll ever be.’ And then he goaded you into making the squires train for an hour longer than usual because you were showing off.”

Arthur blinked. He was torn between offense, laughter, and pride. He ended up somewhere in the middle. “That… sounds like Merlin.”

“Doesn’t it just?” She laughed, delighted. “He keeps you on your toes more than anyone else around here, but he’s so devoted to you.” She placed a hand on her heart, sighing. “It’s quite romantic.”

A kernel of suspicion lodged in Arthur’s mind. “If this is your way of expressing interest in Merlin, you should give up now. You can’t have him, he’s my manservant.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She gave him that look that meant he truly was an idiot, and he glanced away, cheeks hot for how sharply he’d reacted. “Besides… I plan to announce my own favorite soon.”

He whipped around to look at her, and she smiled coyly. “You aren’t the only one with a dedicated servant.”

…

After that frankly horrid conversation, Arthur’s mind was abuzz. He could hardly look at Merlin without thinking about what Morgana had said. It was constant, and it was driving him to insanity. When he should be writing a letter to King Rodor, he was thinking about Merlin dressed in royal purple. When he was supposed to be training, all he could see was Merlin flushed and sweating in entirely different circumstances. When he was trying to sleep, he thought about Merlin in bed next to him, dressed down and drowsy and content. When he saw that thrice bedamned necklace, he imagined telling everyone Merlin was completely off limits and wrapping a possessive arm around his waist. It was consuming all his thoughts. 

Still, he couldn’t regret giving Merlin the charm. He wasn’t sure what exactly it was doing, but Merlin looked healthier than he had in months. His skin was brighter, he had much more energy throughout the day, and his eye bags had reduced significantly. It was clear his health had improved greatly, which was frankly terrible for Arthur’s state of mind because Merlin kept joking with him and touching him and god forbid, smiling at him. It was all a bit much. 

Whenever Merlin was distracted, his hand had a tendency to drift towards the necklace, rubbing a thumb over it when he was deep in thought. It always sent a flash of satisfaction through Arthur that Merlin valued his gift, that it was helping. He couldn’t deny he liked the looks the other servants gave Merlin as well, envy and longing and shock. He wasn’t sure why it was such a surprise to anyone though. He’d made his preference for Merlin quite clear. Not a favorite (the title still brought a flush of red to Arthur’s face), not yet, but still highly favored. Still Arthur’s confidant, his chosen steward, his right hand. Merlin was an idiot, but he was… well, he was Arthur’s favorite. It was time people started treating him like it. 

As much vexation as this whole thing was causing Arthur, he thought he’d experience more internal strife about having used magic. As it stood, however, he didn’t feel any different, which was the strangest part. He thought he’d feel guilty or regretful or wrong, but he didn’t. He just felt like Arthur. 

He thought he might regret it, rejecting his father’s teachings and turning his back on the kingdom’s laws, but in truth, he mostly felt relief. The charm was working, and that was all Arthur cared about. 

…

Three weeks later, Merlin burst into Arthur’s chambers with a wild stare, the necklace clutched in hand. 

“Arthur, this necklace is cursed!”

Arthur stared at him drolly, setting down his quill. “Don’t be ridiculous, Merlin. If you don’t like your gift, just say so.”

“No,” he shook his head, pacing the length of the floor, hair wild from running his hands through it. Arthur watched him, amused. “I’m serious, it’s not a normal necklace. Where did you get this? Did you buy any other jewelry when you got this?”

Before Arthur could fully process the words, Merlin’s hands were all over Arthur’s body. They slid frantically down the collar of his shirt, brushed across his neck, touching his wrists and forearms, everywhere all at once. 

It took Arthur a while to get his wits back about him. 

“Merlin, Merlin stop.” He stilled Merlin’s hands as they slid up his shirt, palms hot on Arthur’s skin. It was distracting. He pushed all of that to the back of his mind, doing his best to ignore the mess Merlin had made of his clothes (and his thoughts). “I’m not wearing anything other than my mother’s ring. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with your necklace. Wait- why do you think it’s cursed? Did it do something? Are you hurt?” 

Then it was Arthur’s turn to survey Merlin, scanning him from head to toe looking for anything out of the ordinary, scratches or wounds or bruises. He didn’t see any, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. He’d learned from experience that Merlin was far too good at hiding when he was in pain. 

“I’m fine Arthur, it’s not that.” Merlin’s eyebrow twitched like it always did when he was nervous, which only served to make Arthur nervous too. “Kind of the opposite, in fact.”

It was around this moment that Arthur realized Merlin was still leaning over him, touching his abdomen with Arthur’s hands on his wrists. It was all quite improper, and it set his heart to racing. If anyone walked in and saw them together…

He released Merlin’s wrists and gestured towards the armchairs by the fireplace. Merlin stepped back with an awkward cough, which would have amused him in any other situation. As it was, he was too busy searching Merlin’s gait for any limp or hitch in his breath to notice. 

“Sit,” he said after discretely locking the door and pouring Merlin a cup of water. “Drink. Tell me about it.”

Merlin sat, automatically downing half the goblet. “Well,” he said as Arthur took his own chair, “I was unsaddling the horses in the main stable, which I don’t normally do but Bartholomew asked for my help this morning since he had a few errands to run, so there I was, brushing down Lilac. Lilac is Lord Wessex’s horse, she’s a little skittish from a hunting near-miss last month-”

“The point?” Arthur interrupted. Merlin’s babbling was usually amusing, but it often turned a five minute story into fifteen minutes, and he was chomping at the bit to figure out what happened. He also made a mental note to speak with Bartholomew about apprehending the crown prince’s manservant for menial duties. He wouldn’t mention it to Merlin, who was too nice for his own good and would surely protest. 

“Right! Well, I might have knocked over the feed bucket, which might have startled her quite bad, and she might have kicked me.”

It was only Arthur’s years of training for court that kept him from outwardly reacting. One kick from a horse could be debilitating at best and deadly at worst. Merlin was scrawny, he didn’t have the same  muscle to protect him as the knights. It’s a wonder he survived. 

“And then?” He asked, his voice tense. 

Merlin thumbed at the necklace still in his hand, not looking at Arthur. “I shut my eyes, but there was no collision. It should have hit me square in the chest, but it didn’t.”

“Maybe it was a few inches shy.”

“No Arthur,” he insisted, his tone brokering no arguments. “It should have hit me.”

Well this complicated things. On one hand, Arthur was glad for the necklace. The charm had done its job, clearly protecting Merlin from grave danger (and his own ineptitude). On the other hand, it was now going to be much more difficult to convince Merlin to wear it. 

“And you’re sure the necklace had something to do with it?”

“It sort of… heated up?” He took off his neckerchief to reveal a circular red mark on otherwise alabaster skin. 

“Seven hells,” Arthur said under his breath.

“So you see, it’s cursed. We have to get rid of it!”

Arthur pursed his lips. “Doesn’t sound like a curse. It kept you safe, didn’t it?”

Merlin stared at him like he grew a second head. “Arthur, it’s magic. Magic is outlawed in Camelot, or did you forget?” 

“I’m just saying it doesn’t sound that bad-“

“Are you trying to get me killed, is that it? Give Merlin an enchanted necklace and let him get hung for sorcery? Very funny joke, great job sire.” And now Merlin was standing, hands flapping everywhere, face flushed with some sort of emotion Arthur couldn’t quite place. Anger? Fear? Either way, this conversation had gotten entirely away from him.

“Would you stop being so dramatic? I’m just saying it seems a little foolish to destroy something that saved your life.”

And there was the staring again. Merlin’s chest heaved with deep breaths, and Arthur wondered what this was really about. “All magic is evil,” Merlin said with a flat tone, like he was reciting from a book. 

“Maybe,” Arthur picked at a loose thread on his pants to avoid Merlin’s dead-eyed gaze, “this one isn’t so bad.”

“What are you saying?” He whispered, voice cracking, and Arthur couldn’t take it anymore. This was getting ridiculous. 

“Oh for goodness sake. I made the necklace, okay? It’s a protection charm. I enchanted it because you kept coming home with bloody- bruises and cuts and all manner of injuries! I know your secrets are your own, and I would never take that from you, but I also can’t stand back and watch you suffer, so could you please put the necklace back on.”

Merlin stared at him, stunned. Then, slowly, he put the necklace back on. He sank back into the armchair. And he burst into tears. 

“Whoa, hey,” Arthur’s hands hovered uselessly in the air. God, this was going horribly. For the first time since this whole incident started, he regretted making the charm. “You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to. In fact, we can pretend this whole thing never happened. I didn’t use magic, you didn’t almost get killed by a horse with a stupid girly name, and this conversation didn’t happen. Okay?”

Merlin didn’t stop crying. He did, however, place his hands over his face so Arthur couldn’t see it anymore. “Just give me a minute.” His voice was watery. 

It was the most awkward minute of Arthur’s life. The things he did for Merlin, honestly. 

When Merlin spoke again, it was quiet but had lost the tremors from earlier. “Did you really enchant a magic necklace to keep me safe?”

“Well… yes.” When Merlin put it like that, it sounded horribly affectionate. 

Then Merlin’s shoulders were shaking again, and Arthur was highly concerned, but when he moved his hand from over his eyes to his mouth, Arthur could see he wasn’t crying at all anymore. He was laughing. 

Somewhat hysterically, Arthur might add. 

This time, he was the one staring like Merlin had grown an extra head, but it couldn’t be helped. It seemed the poor boy had finally gone mad. 

“You used magic to protect me? You? ”

Arthur frowned. It really wasn’t that funny. “Is it so unbelievable?”

Merlin just laughed harder. 

“I’ll have you know I went to a magic shop and everything. The woman even gave me this!” He pulled out the purple chariote from his pocket and held it up triumphantly. 

Merlin just gave him a blank look. “A rock?”

“It’s a crystal, you numpty. It’s supposed to release negative emotions and build inner strength, but I guess you wouldn’t know that since you clearly know nothing about magic. It took you a whole, what, three weeks to realize your necklace was charmed? Truly no survival instincts.”

Merlin’s face turned red again, this time with indignation, and Arthur smiled to himself. Now that was the Merlin he knew. 

“That’s rich coming from you! I’ve saved your ass with magic more times than I can count! If it weren’t for me, you’d be dead like, at least fifty times!” Then he blinked and seemed to realize what he’d said. “Erm…”

Arthur narrowed his eyes dangerously at him. “No, do tell about all the times you’ve saved my life with magic-”

“Arthur-”

“This I’ve got to hear.”

Merlin’s eyes turned liquid, pleading, like a baby deer in front of a crossbow. “Arthur, please don’t be mad. You said it yourself, right? Some magic isn’t evil. My magic is good, I promise. I only use it to protect you, only for you. I would never, ever hurt you. Please don’t send me away.”

The tears were back, making Merlin’s eyes look bluer than ever, and Arthur realized this wasn’t a joke at all. In fact, this was the furthest thing from a joke. Merlin had magic. 

Merlin. Magic. 

He was less distressed by it than he thought he would be. Far less distressed than Merlin, in any case.

“I mean, obviously you can be mad. You should be, in fact. And I know I should be grateful if you banish me rather than kill me, but I don’t want to be banished, I want to stay here with you. I’ll work for Gaius, I’ll get a job in town, you won’t even see me, I promise.”

“Merlin, I’m not going to banish you.”

Merlin’s face drained of all color. “Death it is, then. Can I say goodbye to Gaius and write a letter to my mother? If you’ve ever held any affection for me, you’ll allow me this. I want to say goodbye to Gwen as well, and Lancelot. You won’t make them watch, will you? Grant me one mercy and do it in private. I want to die by your hand.” 

The thought was sickening. This had to stop. “Merlin, will you be my favorite?”

“I… You… What?” 

Arthur repeated the words slowly, because Merlin still looked like he was one breath away from passing out. “Will you be my favorite?”

“Your…” And then he blushed all the way to the roots of his hair. “Your favorite favorite? Like, in that way? The way in which you want to… to touch me and- and-”

Arthur rolled his eyes. There really were no limits to his manservant’s buffoonery, were there? 

“Yes Merlin, my favorite in that way. Do you need me to spell it out for you? You do know what sex is, right? When two men love each other very much…”

“I know what sex is you prat!” Merlin all but shrieked. “What about my magic?”

“How could I be mad about your magic when I did magic first?”

“Technically that’s not true- wait…” he trailed off, eyes narrowing. “Did you say you love me?”

Arthur blanched. Well, cat’s out of the bag now. “In a fashion.”

“In a- oh, you ridiculous, stubborn, cabbagehead of a man!”

Before Arthur even had time to be offended, he found himself with two arms around his shoulders and a lapful of Merlin. “Alright now. Yes, that’s- okay.” His hands landed softly on Merlin, one on his back and the other on his hair, cupping the back of his head in what he’d deny to his dying day was a caress.

“Yes,” Merlin whispered into his neck, sending shivers down his whole body. “I’ll be your favorite. If you really don’t mind the magic, that is.”

“On one condition.

“Anything.” The conviction in Merlin’s voice did all sorts of things to Arthur’s body. It also did all sorts of things to his heart. And wasn’t that so perfectly Merlin of him? 

“The necklace stays on.”

Merlin, the trollop, looked up at him with big, trusting eyes, and Arthur fell for it, like he really was some sort of baby deer or something. He leaned closer, cupping Merlin’s cheek to reassure him that whatever he was about to say, it was going to be okay. 

“Even during sex?”

Arthur should have dumped him on the floor for his impertinence, but he didn’t. And wasn’t that so perfectly Arthur of him?

…

Arthur commissioned a shirt for Merlin before the day was out, and the next week found him examining his new purple shirt in Arthur’s mirror. It was soft like silk, and it made his dark hair look like the midnight sky, his eyes two glittering stars. 

Arthur never used to have horribly poetic thoughts like this. Just another thing Merlin changed when he burst, all lanky-limbed and loud-mouthed, into his life. 

“Is it too much? I think it’s too much.”

“Merlin,” Arthur stood behind him, examining his reflection and totally not checking him out, not at all. He adjusted Merlin’s necklace to lay flat against his skin, framed perfectly by the laces of his shirt. It looked right around his neck, as if that’s where it always belonged. Merlin looked- well, in this lighting, he looked like a prince himself. Arthur’s hands found his waist, now clad in royal purple, and reveled in a job well done. Merlin had always been beautiful, but now he looked almost otherworldly, like the fae or a creature of the old religion. Hell, maybe he was.

Merlin would need an entirely new wardrobe eventually, one shirt (no matter how fine) wasn’t nearly enough. But that was a battle for another day. For now, he enjoyed the feeling of Merlin leaning back into his chest, warm and snug. It was new, all of it was so new, but it was also familiar in a way. It felt natural, right. For his whole life he’d questioned his every move, questioned his place in the world. But right now, he was exactly where he ought to be. 

“Please stop fretting, it’s not too much. You look good. No one’s going to give you trouble, I promise.” He took the liberty of pressing a kiss to the side of Merlin’s head. Merlin took the liberty of leaning his head back on Arthur’s shoulder so Arthur could trail kisses down his jawline, pausing to lavish some attention on his ear, continuing down to his neck. That was another thing that was different. Merlin was so tactile now. He’d always been a little entitled with the way he touched Arthur, but now he was insatiable. It was making Arthur insatiable. But he found, as he worried a little biting kiss to Merlin’s pulse point, that he didn’t really mind. “But if anyone does give you trouble, you come to me, alright? No more of this handling things on your own.”

“Possessive prat,” Merlin teased back, only a little out of breath from all the kissing. “Always gotta be the white knight.”

“Only because my damsel’s always getting into trouble.” 

“Your-!” He whirled around, pointing a finger in Arthur’s face. “I’ll have you know, you’re the one always getting into- oh, you’re joking.”

“Maybe,” Arthur smirked, hands finding Merlin’s hips again. “But keep yelling at me. You look good when you’re all worked up.”

“Oh I’ll show you all worked up,” Merlin said, pushing Arthur back onto the bed and clambering into his lap, still lanky-limbed, still loud-mouthed.

And he did. 

…

“I didn’t think you had it in you.” Morgana said on their weekly stroll through the gardens. Her skin was almost glowing, probably a product of using Arthur’s misstep to announce Gwen as her favorite with virtually no backlash, the lucky bastard. Still, she was glowing, and Gwen looked resplendent in her new gowns, and they both looked happy, genuinely and truly happy. Arthur couldn’t even find it in him to be mad. “Finally making a move on Merlin and standing up to Uther in the span of one week. I’m impressed with you, Arthur.”

Arthur shrugged, still slightly embarrassed about the way he yelled at his father in front of the entire court rather than keeping his cool like he’d meant to. His father deserved it, speaking of Merlin like that as if he hadn’t been a trusted and loyal member of their household for years. Even so, it hadn’t been the way he meant to go about it. It was slightly made better by Merlin’s own wide eyed stare, and the laughing fit he’d burst into back in Arthur’s chambers. Arthur himself had been too worked up to appreciate it at the time, so he pushed Merlin up against a wall and did what he always did when he was upset— he took his frustrations out on a living target. 

Merlin wasn’t laughing for much longer. 

“He’s taking it better than the knights, at any rate.”

Morgana glanced at him in surprise. “They don’t approve?”

“If anything, they approve too much,” he muttered darkly. They’d all whooped and hollered when they saw Merlin in his new shirt, looking freshly debauched. Many of them slapped Arthur on the back in congratulations. More than one knight made the comment that it was about time. Gwaine wiggled his eyebrows in a leer so lewd that Arthur genuinely considered banishing him from the kingdom. As it was, he was still avoiding him, though he’d never admit it. 

“Ah,” Morgana nodded with a snobbish upturn to her nose. “Men are such base creatures.”

For once, Arthur didn’t find it in him to argue. “Indeed.”

“Speaking of,” she glanced at him slyly. “I presume you’ve been… enjoying Merlin’s promotion?”

“ Morgana!”

“Those marks on your neck suggest it’s true. Might want to borrow one of Merlin’s neckerchiefs before we dine with Uther tonight. Unless you’re trying to make a point,” she raised an eyebrow.

He slapped a hand over his neck, but the damage was already done. Morgana’s evil, tinkering laugh floated through the garden, and Arthur knew she’d hold this over his head forever even though she’d been the one to plant the thought of favorites in his head in the first place and this was all technically her fault. 

Evil witch.

…

Maeve’s shop looked almost exactly like it did the first time Arthur visited. The brass bells still hung above the door. The shop still looked too small to fit all of the piles of oddities and curiosities inside while somehow managing to feel cozy rather than cramped. The glittering crystals on the back wall still caught his eye, and he still wanted to hunt for hidden treasure. 

The shop hadn’t changed much at all, the addition of floating candles and new wares seemed to be the only difference, but Arthur had. 

His steps were surer, his mind clearer. He was far from the boy he’d been a few short years ago when he first stepped foot in Maeve’ shop, so curious, so uncertain. He was a king now, tried and tested. The road hadn’t been an easy one, but it was one he didn’t regret. 

He was better for it, and so was Camelot. 

Despite the legalization of magic and subsequent popularization of Maeve’s shop, today it was empty. Arthur had a sneaking suspicion she’d known he was coming. She never said it outright, but Arthur spent enough time with Morgana to recognize a seer when he saw one. 

“Arthur, so good to see you,” Maeve smiled, as if his presence was a surprise. She didn’t look much different, with long hair still hanging past her waist in waves, bracelets jangling on her arms as she beckoned him into the store. The only change was the addition of a few new wrinkles on her face. Arthur himself had gained a few wrinkles as well. He’d certainly earned them. “What brings you in today? Looking for anything in particular?”

The last time he was here, Merlin was with him, giddy to shirk his courtly duties for a day in favor of searching for new spell books and pointing out crystals that matched Arthur’s eyes. Sappy fool. 

From the moment Arthur introduced Merlin and Maeve, he knew he’d made a mistake. They’d gotten on like a house on fire, talking a mile a minute about all sorts of magic and prophesy nonsense that Arthur couldn’t be bothered to understand. Since then, Merlin insisted on accompanying Arthur to the shop every time he visited, which admittedly was sparingly that first year as king, too busy sorting outdated laws, new edicts, and his own jumble of confused emotions and thoughts. 

Merlin had been a grounding force through all of it, letting Arthur take everything at his own pace, lending his quiet strength and steadfast love. Without Merlin, he didn’t know how he could have handled any of it. 

Arthur thought he understood love before, thought he knew the size and shape of it, but like with Merlin, he’d only seen its shadow. The truth was so much more than he could have ever imagined. 

Leave it to Merlin to teach him something he’d never learned in his father’s court with all the best tutors in Albion, like maybe love was boundless, and maybe it was always growing, and maybe it would never end. 

“As a matter of fact, I am. I was hoping you could help me find a ring.”