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It was a beautiful day. The sun was streaming through the leaves, dappling the forest with golden-green light. Through the gaps in the branches, one could see there wasn't a cloud in the sky. The birds were singing; cicadas were chirping, and the slight breeze rustled the leaves in perfect harmony with the nearby stream.
The only flaw Merlin could perceive was the searing heat.
Usually, Merlin didn't mind the heat. Summer was his favourite season, in close competition with spring, precisely because it was hot. Merlin was accustomed to feeling cold more often than not due to his thin frame and demanding lifestyle. Summer was the one time of year when he didn't need to wear socks to bed or keep his jacket on all the time. He certainly wouldn't need to wear a scarf. That would be ridiculous.
Yet there he was, sitting on dry, yellow grass in a long-sleeved shirt, boots, jacket and scarf, drenched in sweat.
Meanwhile, the knights were having a grand time, splashing each other silly in the shallows of the river. Merlin burned not only with imminent sunstroke, but jealousy.
It wasn't that he hadn't been invited into the water; quite the contrary. The knights had all urged him to swim with them, Arthur especially so, but Merlin had stubbornly refused.
Things were different now. He couldn't strip himself down to his small clothes and dive into the water the way he might have in Ealdor, the way the knights were doing now. Because if he did that…
Merlin caught himself rubbing at his chest under his scarf. The raised, sunken skin was still sensitive to heat after all these years. It wouldn't be too hard to convince himself that was the reason he didn't want to take his shirt off right now. He could also say he didn't want the knights to see since it could risk the secret of his magic.
Those would be good excuses.
But it didn't explain why Merlin wouldn't doff his shirt when he and Arthur were alone. When they slept in one another's arms and Arthur gently slipped a hand under Merlin's clothes, only for Merlin to push it away with hushed and embarrassed apologies, Arthur would kiss him, telling him it was fine, that he had nothing to apologize for.
If only he knew.
"Oi!" Merlin jumped as Arthur shouted and splashed him with cold river water. "Are you really just going to sit there in the sun? You know, if you're not careful, you'll roast what little brains you have left, Merlin!"
Merlin scowled. Sometimes the prince in his head was far more charming than the one in reality.
"I'm fine!" Merlin said. "The heat really isn't that bad. It's quite nice." He tilted his face toward the sky and tried to ignore the feeling of his skin burning.
"I dunno, Merls," Gwaine chimed in. "You're getting pretty red."
Merlin sent him a glare just as withering as the unrelenting sun. The other knights were beginning to look over as well, and they seemed concerned. Merlin made a show of rolling his eyes and scooting back into the shade, taking a swig from his water skein. Unlike the knight's, his and Arthur's waters were still cold and refreshing. So was Lancelot's. Merlin would have liked to cool the rest off for his friends, but such little luxuries were a risk he couldn't afford to take. Warm water would hydrate just as well as cold.
Plus, there was plenty of cool water in the river.
Merlin sighed. He really did like swimming. He rooted around in his bag for the book he'd been reading. At least he could distract himself with ancient Greek plays for a while. He sighed, leaning back against a tree trunk and propped the old tome up against his knees.
After that, it didn't seem to take too long until the knights decided it was time to get back on the road. Merlin's shirt was sticking to his back with sweat, and his blue neckerchief looked nearly black, but he'd manage. He would have to.
He couldn't wait to return to the castle and take a cool bath in privacy.
The knights clambered out of the river, still laughing and shoving one another. Merlin began handing out clothes and armour.
"You sure you're alright?" Lancelot asked him. Merlin nodded.
"I'm fine," he insisted. "Ready to be home, though."
Lancelot nodded, though he didn't seem convinced. "Sure," he said.
Everyone mounted up, and they were heading back to the citadel in good time. It wasn't a far journey from the estate they had been visiting for the last two days. The Lord's wedding was lovely, despite the sweltering heat. Merlin wouldn't soon forget the way Arthur had held him the previous night, drunkenly dancing to the tune of the crickets, whispering that someday their wedding celebrations would be even more beautiful and joyous.
Perhaps it was because Merlin was lost in that romantic thought; perhaps it was the mind-melting heat of the midday sun. Perhaps it didn't matter in the end why his guard slipped so completely. Whatever the reason, Merlin didn't hear the bandits until a dagger was already buried in his chest.
He didn't feel himself falling off Llamrei. He did feel the impact of hitting the ground. He also felt a bandit pull the dagger from his chest and saw him run off with it.
'That's not good,' Merlin thought idly.
Merlin was fairly sure he hit his head when he fell because he was seeing spots. Though, that could also have been from blood loss. The numb cold creeping around his fingers suddenly was definitely blood loss. His chest felt warm and sticky for a whole new reason now.
Merlin usually tried to help subtly during attacks such as these, but he couldn't sense much of anything around him. His ears were ringing, and the shouts seemed muffled. Perhaps if he closed his eyes, he'd be able to focus on the sound better.
Rather than improving his hearing, Merlin instead winced as his magic slammed against his ribs, itching to fight, to heal. He reigned it in. It wasn't safe. While his magic didn't physically disturb the wound by straining for freedom, it certainly wasn't helping matters.
Eventually, the muddied blur of sound thinned out until he could pinpoint Arthur's voice, shouting indistinctly. Merlin's magic strained itself, reaching forward for its soulmate as it always did when Arthur was near. Merlin peeled his eyes open to see the prince's panicked face in front of him.
As soon as Arthur pressed against Merlin's wound, everything snapped into painful clarity.
"Leon," Arthur shouted. "Get the medical kit from Merlin's saddlebags." The prince turned back to Merlin with a shaky smile. "You're going to be alright, Merlin."
Merlin simply groaned. It was a bad hit.
Arthur swallowed, clenching his jaw with tense determination. "You will be fine, Merlin. That's an order."
Merlin laughed, though it sounded like more of a wet cough. "When have I ever followed orders?" he asked.
"Leon, put pressure on this wound," Arthur said, moving around. "Merlin, I need you to sit up."
Despite what Merlin had just said, he did as Arthur asked. It was agony, and though he tried, he couldn't quite hold back the cry of pain.
Arthur's hands were shaking. He noticed this before noticing that Arthur was taking his jacket off.
Merlin gasped. "Wait!"
"I need to take your shirt off so I can look at the wound, Merlin," Arthur said, tossing the jacket to the forest floor.
Merlin shook his head. "No!"
Arthur frowned. "This is no time to be bashful, Merlin."
"I'm not-" Merlin had no time to protest. With one free hand, Leon had his belt removed and relieved the pressure on his wound just long enough for Arthur to rip off Merlin's bloody shirt.
The knights gasped. Leon looked horrified, though he didn't step away, just kept pressing to slow the blood leaking from Merlin's chest. His eyes roamed across Merlin's exposed torso, taking in the burns, the slashes, the scars.
Arthur had gone quite still. He was knelt behind Merlin, and the warlock lamented that he couldn't see his prince's face, even if he wasn't sure he had the strength to look him in the eye.
For a minute, no one said anything. It was unbearable. There was no question that most of Merlin's scars were from magical attacks, and most of them should have been fatal.
"Am I still bleeding, or?" Merlin tried to joke, but it came out awkward and stilted, but Arthur jolted back into action, grabbing the medical kit. Leon lifted the blood-soaked cloth to let Arthur take a look.
"I've seen worse," Arthur sighed.
"Really?" Merlin asked skeptically.
Arthur looked at him sharply, not missing Merlin's implication. "As stabs to the chest go, it seems pretty shallow."
Merlin looked at the wound. Fortunately, it was on his right, and Arthur was correct; it was fairly shallow. Most likely, the knife had struck a rib, preventing it from puncturing Merlin's lung. "It'll need stitches," he said.
"We're less than an hour's ride to Camelot," Arthur nodded. "We'll bandage it for now, and you'll ride with me. As soon as we're there, Gaius can stitch you up."
Merlin nodded weakly.
"I'll ride ahead, sire, and make sure Gaius is ready." Elyan stepped forward.
Arthur nodded approvingly. "Have him prepare in my chambers."
That should have been an odd request, but no one seemed surprised. Merlin was fairly sure he saw Gwaine smiling.
Leon did a good job of dressing the wound, at least for a temporary job. He pointedly did not let himself be distracted by Merlin's scars. Merlin could hear the other knights whispering. They had no qualms about staring at each and every scar, it seemed, while Arthur looked back at him with all the understanding Merlin never wanted him to have to bear.
Arthur reached around and undid the knot of Merlin's neckerchief, carefully pulling it away. Merlin studied his face, watching him study the marred skin with wide eyes. Merlin ached for him to say something while also praying he wouldn't say a word.
The bandages that Leon wrapped around him covered the worst of it, the scar from Nimeuh's fireblast that had cracked his sternum inwards. Leon didn't flinch once when he had to touch the stretched and disfigured scar tissue. Arthur did, though. The bandages weren't loose, but because of the divot in Merlin's chest, they didn't quite lay flat in the middle.
"I'm not sure if-"Leon began.
"It's fine for now," Merlin interrupted, trying to stand. He immediately felt dizzy, spots flashing dark across his field of vision. Arthur and Leon both caught him.
"Bloody hell, Merlin!" Arthur snapped. "Would you be careful?"
"Have to get up eventually," Merlin grumbled, reaching for his jacket before straightening up.
"You need some help getting on the horse?" Percival asked.
Merlin would have said no, but Arthur thanked Percival, guiding Merlin to his own mount, Hengroen. Despite Merlin's stubbornness, he had to admit that it was much easier with Percival lifting him. Arthur hopped up easily behind him, and after Leon had neatly put away the medical supplies in Llamrei's saddlebag, they were ready to head out.
Merlin had little choice but to lean back against Arthur. It hurt his chest too much to lean forward, not to mention that the saddle really wasn't built to accommodate two grown men. Arthur wrapped an arm around Merlin's waist.
"That doesn't hurt, does it?" he asked softly.
Merlin shook his head. He could feel Arthur's thumb brush over a scar on his abdomen. "Just… just rest. We'll be home soon."
Merlin remained tense for the rest of the ride back to Camelot. It only grew worse as he saw the citadel through the break in the trees.
Having Arthur and the knights see his scars was awful. Having the entire city see them was a living nightmare. Merlin's breath quickened. Arthur held him tighter, but it wasn't a comfort for once.
"We're nearly there," Arthur said in a gentle, hushed tone, not understanding that was the problem.
"I can't-"Merlin's voice cracked.
"Here." Merlin turned to see Lancelot had ridden up beside them, holding his cloak out. Merlin stared at him. "I know it's hot, but none of us would want you getting burned."
Merlin could tell that Lancelot hadn't been referring to a sunburn. He took the red cloak and draped it across his chest.
"Thank you."
"Well, you are terribly pale," Lancelot smiled.
"No kidding!" said Gwaine, riding up on their left. "I mean, it's not a surprise. After all, how are you meant to get a nice healthy tan if you keep sitting on the sidelines when we go swimming?"
"Huh?" Merlin asked, staring at Gwaine.
"He's right," Lancelot said. "It seems you'll have no excuse not to come in with us next time."
Merlin looked back and forth from Lancelot to Gwaine, who were both smiling, not just with teasing humour but with steadfast, unconditional support. He felt a lump growing in his throat. Looking over Arthur's shoulder to Percival and Leon, who had taken the task of leading Llamrei, he saw the same care in their eyes.
"Yeah, maybe," Merlin smiled, tugging Lancelot's cape closer as he leaned against Arthur's chest again.
He would have to bear the knight's questions at some point. They would want to know how he had survived wounds that they'd surely only seen on corpses. Merlin wasn't sure exactly what he'd tell them, but he had the feeling that his friends would remain just as loyal and caring as he had always known them to be, even if he didn't deserve it.
There were stares of course, as they rode into the citadel. Several people called out to Merlin, asking if he was alright. He simply gave a smile and a thumbs up, although he definitely wasn't alright. Elyan was waiting for them at the front steps.
"Gaius is ready for Merlin in your chambers, your highness," he said as Percival helped Merlin down from the horse. Merlin clutched at Lancelot's cape to keep it from falling, and Arthur adjusted it to cover the scars on his back.
"Good," Arthur said. "Come on, put your arm around my shoulders."
Merlin had to wriggle an arm free from the cape to do so, but Arthur supported him from the right, cautious of the wound, which Merlin suspected had soaked through the bandage by now. Percival and Elyan walked with them, evidently ready to carry Merlin at a moment's notice, should he need it.
Merlin glanced over his shoulder to see that Lancelot, Gwaine and Leon were following close behind.
"You know, I don't think I need an armed escort to get a few stitches," Merlin quipped.
"Too bad," Gwaine said. "Because you're getting one."
Merlin laughed, which hurt. Before long the knights were ushering him into Arthur's room.
"Merlin," Gaius said, looking him up and down. "What have you gotten yourself into this time?"
Merlin smiled. "It's not that bad," he answered. "Caught me off guard, that's for sure."
Gaius raised an eyebrow. "Elyan said you'd been stabbed in the chest."
"Yes, well-"
"Sit." Merlin could hear Gwaine chuckle from the doorway as Arthur half carried him to the bed. It was, as always, blessedly soft. Some maid had changed the bedding while they'd been gone, which meant Merlin would feel a little paranoid until he'd checked over the entirety of Arthur's chambers, but for the moment, Merlin could appreciate how the sheets were cool and refreshing to lie upon. Merlin clutched tight to Lancelot's cape. He would have to remove it, of course. Gaius had seen his scars before, but…
"Alright, shoo," Gaius said, waving the knights away. "I need space to work, and Merlin needs rest."
"But-"Gwaine protested.
"You can come back in the morning," Gaius declared.
"We'll be here first thing!" Percival promised.
Merlin smiled. "Bye," he waved.
Lancelot gave him a final, heartfelt smile as he closed the doors, leaving Merlin, Gaius and Arthur alone.
"Now then, my boy, let's have a look."
Merlin sighed and let go of Lancelot's cape. Gaius peeled it away, intent on caring for his apprentice, while Merlin watched Arthur's face.
He looked worried, first and foremost. It wasn't just worry over Merlin's current wound, though, but worry over every mark laid bare before him. Merlin saw the horror, the pain, the fear, and it hurt worse than the knife had.
Gaius was quick to take off the bandages but gentle. Warm water kept dried blood from sticking painfully to the bandages.
"Here," Gaius said, handing Merlin a tonic that he knew would slow the bleeding and dull the pain. Merlin downed it while trying to taste as little of the potion as possible.
Gaius spread a sharp-smelling paste over the area of Merlin's wound to numb it. Merlin shivered as his skin began to tingle.
Arthur stepped back, and for a moment, Merlin's heart and magic lurched with despair, only to see Arthur tugging off Merlin's muddy boots.
"Why're there so many goddamned buckles?" Arthur grumbled, making Merlin laugh.
" Ongyrdaþ, " Merlin said, his magic rushing to his feet to undo every buckle with ease.
Arthur looked at him with an exasperated smile. "And you say I can't dress myself." The prince shook his head and went to place the boots by the fire. It was unlit, as it should be in this heat, but the setting sun caught Arthur's hair and armour alight with perfect beauty. A sharp contrast to how Merlin looked, he was sure.
Arthur looked at the cold hearth, then back to Merlin. "Gaius," he said. "Will you have enough light to work?"
Gaius looked at the dimming window. "I'll need a few candles, sire."
"Merlin?" Arthur asked, waving a hand in the way no one ever did to magically light candles.
Merlin rolled his eyes with a smile. "I'm brutally wounded, and you're still bossing me about?" he grumbled but summoned a few floating orbs around for Gaius anyhow.
"Thank you, Merlin." Gaius began boiling the suturing needles.
Merlin had gotten stitches several times. He'd given himself stitches before, as well, when situations had been particularly dire. He'd never gotten used to it. Even with the area numb, he'd be able to feel and see the skin forcibly pulled back together, and it made his stomach turn.
Almost immediately, Arthur was there, crawling over the other side of the bed, picking up Merlin's hand.
"You're still in your armour," Merlin protested.
"So?"
"So?" Merlin repeated. "I'm the one who's got to wash all this later."
"No, you're not," argued Arthur. "Gaius said you need rest. Someone else will have to manage your chores for a few days."
"Still, tho-o-ow!" Merlin shouted, looking down to see that Gaius had already begun stitching.
"Did that hurt?" the physician asked.
"Uh." It hadn't, but it had caught him off guard.
"I thought it best to begin while you were distracted," Gaius explained.
Arthur squeezed Merlin's hand.
Merlin grumbled quietly but he magicked Arthur's armour to the other side of the room to lean his head against Arthur's shoulder, since he didn't much fancy leaning against hard metal. He closed his eyes tight. He didn't want to watch.
With his eyes closed once again, he could feel the magic buzz under his skin, reaching for Arthur, tempted to cover the scars Merlin was so self-conscious about in some way. It felt Arthur's gaze, the way he stiffened in time with Gaius's sutures, the way Arthur's free hand brushed over an old gash on Merlin's bicep.
Gaius finished quickly and neatly and re-did new bandages. Where Leon hadn't been able to get them to lie flat, Gaius could adhere the bandages to Merlin's skin, only covering the wound so they didn't have to wrap around Merlin's chest.
"Better? "Gaius asked. Merlin simply nodded, tired.
"Thank you, Gaius," said Arthur, his voice rough.
Gaius smiled. "Get some sleep, Merlin."
"Right," he nodded.
After Gaius left, Merlin pulled the duvet over his shoulders, removing his hand from Arthur's and buried his chin under the covers. The sun had slipped past the horizon, but it was still too warm.
If he was lucky, Arthur would let him sleep and wouldn't question him now.
"Merlin, look at me, love, please?"
When was Merlin ever lucky?
He sighed and turned his head towards the prince. Arthur looked otherworldly in the pale blue lights.
"I'm sorry," whispered the prince.
Merlin frowned. "Why?"
Arthur swallowed, his jaw tensing. "I should have got to you sooner today. You were hurt-"
"I was fine."
"Were you?" Arthur's voice had an edge to it. "Really? Just a minor stab to the chest? Nothing to write home about, was it?"
"I-"
"I can see, really, why you'd think that," Arthur continued on. His ranting was quieter than usual, Merlin noted. He didn't yell, but spoke in harsh, hushed tones, his voice crackling with emotion. "After all, this must have been a lark compared to what-what you..."
Arthur's hand fell to Merlin's chest, overtop of the duvet, tracing scars that were hidden but couldn't be forgotten.
"I'm supposed to look after you," Arthur said. "We're supposed to look after each other, right?"
Merlin nodded.
"But how can I do that if I don't..."
"Arthur,"
"All these marks, Merlin, all these times I could have lost you and never would have known why..." Tears shone in Arthur's eyes, vivid blue in the light.
"I didn't want for you to have to see them," Merlin swore. "I know, they're awful, and it, fuck, it hurts just to think about sometimes."
"No, no, Merlin." Arthur pulled back the covers to hold Merlin's hands. "I want to know. I want to be there."
Merlin squirmed under Arthur's gaze.
"It's..." Merlin cleared his throat, fighting back tears. "You see me for something so much better than what I am. I don't want to lose that."
Arthur tilted his head, tears falling. "You never could," he insisted. "Merlin, Merlin, these scars could never make me think less of you!"
"I've seen you gain your scars, Arthur. But you haven't seen me gain mine. I wanted to show you the beauty of magic, not how it harms, and I didn't want you to see how I..." Tears were running down Merlin's cheeks now, and breathing was harder than when he'd fallen off his horse, but he didn't want to stop. He had to explain. "I know we've fought against dangers together, but I didn't want you to see the brutal things I've had to do. I...for every mark here," he traced his fingers along his chest. "I've only survived because I did something worse to someone else."
"Merlin, my love," Arthur interrupted. "I know."
Merlin gasped, nearly choking on tears. "What?"
Arthur smiled. "We are fighters, warriors. And I know that you are strong, and you've triumphed in great struggles." He brushed his hand down Merlin's arm. "I'm proud of you."
Merlin sobbed, shaking his head in disbelief.
"I am!" Arthur insisted, pulling the shaking warlock into an embrace. "I've told my knights, you've heard me tell them! Battle scars are nothing to feel shame over. They are medals, emblems of honour, strength, and as much as they scare me, it's only because I didn't know about them. You went through these battles alone, and you came out victorious. Merlin, these scars show me that you are the most glorious fighter I have ever had the honour of knowing."
Merlin clutched at Arthur's chainmail desperately.
"What's more," Arthur said, brushing a hand over Merlin's hair. "You've faced things I truly can't imagine and not only are you here, alive and well, you're still so good and kind. " Arthur's voice cracked. "You think the fact that you're a powerful fighter could change the way I see you smile at bumblebees or dance with little kids in the market?" he laughed. "I know you're powerful, Merlin, and I know you're silly and gentle and sweet. I love all of you, Merlin. I always have."
"I love you," Merlin wept. "I love you."
They would have stayed like that forever if they could have, but Merlin's leaning sideways was pulling at his bandages, so he eventually had to roll out of the embrace. Arthur wasn't one to let go of a hug easily, though, not in private, anyhow, which was how Merlin found himself suddenly being straddled by the crown prince of Camelot.
"You are exquisite," Arthur breathed.
Merlin took a sharp breath, looking at Arthur's face, glowing beautifully blue. Arthur's hand traced around the bandages, over the edge of the burn in the centre of Merlin's chest, down to the slashes left by claws and blades to rest on Merlin's belt.
"These scars," he said softly. "Are they the reason you never want…" he shifted awkwardly on Merlin's hips. "To be intimate?"
Merlin glanced away. "Not, not the only reason, but a big one, yes." His heart hammered in his chest.
Arthur shook his head wryly. His hands began to move again, brushing against Merlin's stomach, over scars, not hesitating but mapping every inch of ragged skin.
"I-" Merlin panted, out of breath from crying and now from the way Arthur's hands were so boldly- "With the magic, keeping it reigned in is hard-it's difficult!" his voice cracked. "It's difficult when...um...you know, so I can't, I can't get carried away, Arthur, I really..."
Arthur nodded, leaning in and kissing Merlin's cheek. "It's alright," he said, his voice so close and breath so warm. Merlin's magic raced to his skin, howling for Arthur.
He couldn't give it what it wanted.
"I wouldn't, you're injured anyhow, and I know," Arthur kissed his neck. "I know."
Merlin relaxed slightly, though his magic still rushed through his blood, making every hair stand on end with want. He and Arthur had talked about it before, how he had to keep his magic under strict control, and how taking Arthur like this would...
"Every mark here," Arthur stroked Merlin's side. "Deserves my thanks. If not for saving my life, then for saving our friends, our home, Camelot..."
Arthur kissed the scar on Merlin's throat-a severed artery that would have killed anyone else. Merlin whimpered, his magic whining.
"Thank you," Arthur whispered against his skin.
"Arthur," Merlin moaned.
Arthur kissed his collarbone, nicked by something Merlin couldn't remember. "Thank you."
He kissed the centre of Merlin's chest, the burn from Nimueh. "Thank you.
He kissed the star-shaped electrical burn from a sidhe's blast, just above the bandage. "Thank you."
He kissed the identical one under Merlin's left pectoral as well. "Thank you."
"Thank you." The puncture wounds where a creature with jagged claws had grabbed him by the waist.
"Thank you." The long white line of a blade across Merlin's stomach.
"Thank you." Four claw marks.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you."
Merlin wept.
Arthur sat up eventually, a smile on his face, and his eyes bluer than Merlin had ever seen in the light. Merlin reached out with shaking, scarred arms and pulled the prince in close.
"Thank you," Merlin cried.
Arthur shook his head against Merlin's shoulder. "My magical, marvellous Merlin." Arthur rolled off but stayed right by Merlin's side.
Merlin dismissed the lights, letting their energy fade into the ether, admiring the curve of Arthur's face, and how it was all he could really see now in the darkened room.
"Tomorrow," Arthur said. "I'm having armour made for you."
"What?" Merlin asked.
"Well, as beautiful as your scars are, I'd like to avoid any more potentially fatal injuries."
"Arthur," Merlin protested. "I'm your servant, not a knight, you can't-"
"I know that, but as long as you keep coming out on dangerous journeys with me, you deserve to be protected," Arthur argued. "It won't be anything fancy, but-"
"Arthur, how am I meant to be subtle if I'm clanking around in a big metal suit?"
Arthur was quiet for a moment, considering this. "Leather armour, then. It's better than nothing."
Merlin groaned. "I already wear a leather jacket."
"That's not armour," Arthur said. "It's barely clothing."
"I don't know the first thing about wearing armour," Merlin grumbled. "I'll look stupid."
"You'll look beautiful like you always do. And I can teach you how to move in leathers."
Merlin was trying to come up with another argument.
"Maybe studded leathers," Arthur continued.
"Studded leathers?"
"It's a little heavier, sure, but it'll offer you more protection."
"Ugh!" Merlin groaned dramatically.
Arthur just laughed. "We'll argue about it in the morning, then?"
Despite himself, Merlin chuckled. "I suppose so."
He felt Arthur shift on the mattress, reaching for his hand in the dark, holding it gently. "Good night, Merlin. I love you."
After everything. Because of everything.
"I love you, too."