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Chapter Text

“I want to say something I’ve never said before… thank you.” With his final words, Arthur exhales and his eyelids fall closed. Merlin feels his already weak body going slack as his last breath leaves his mouth, and a raw pain rises in his throat as his stomach drops and eyes burn like fire. He could still feel Arthur’s last touch on the back of his head and his voice cracked as he cried.

“Arthur? No, Arthur? No, stay with me! Arthur? No, ARTHUR!” Merlin panics and looks around, cursing and crying out for aid where there is none to be offered. He holds Arthur’s face in his hand, though he was shaking and unable to clearly see his face through the thick tears that fill his eyes, obscuring his view. The whole world seemed to drop from around him. His whole body was numb, and he held Arthur closer to him. He felt the need to move, so he stood up only to take a few steps before sinking to his knees screaming with no thought to how it might damage his vocal cords. His breath comes in short and rapid breaths, and a familiar buzzing starts to fill his body. Waves of uncontrolled magic filled with pain ripple off of his body as he slams his fists into the ground. Trees and brush shifted as if being hit with violent winds and animals ran to take cover. His vision seemed to darken, though he wasn’t sure if he should attribute that to a panicked tunnel vision or a shift in the weather due to his involuntary manipulation. He hadn’t lost control of his magic in at least 15 years, and he struggled to recall a time when he lost control to this degree. Usually, when he gets bad he tries to center himself by manipulating the light of a candle, but he lets the grief wash over him. It feels good to let everything out, all of the anger and sadness. Anger at Morgana for turning and creating the sword that would end Arthur, anger at Uther for creating a world that demonized his existence, anger at the injustice of Arthur’s death, but mostly anger at himself. He chastised himself for not doing enough to save Arthur when there may have still been time. For not seeking out Arthur after wiping out the Saxtons. For never telling Arthur about his magic before it was too late. For not having enough control to have healed Arthur or prevented the injury entirely. Now there was nothing he could do. He slowed his breathing, the uncontrolled waves of magic slowing to a stop. He opened his eyes and looked everywhere but the body that lay a few paces away. He looked around the forest wondering what the hell he was meant to do next. There was a small clearing in the trees, and he could see light reflecting on what looked like water.

The lake, he remembers. He scrambles up from the ground, practically tripping over his own feet in his rush to get to Arthur. He hooks his arms under Arthur’s and lifts most of him off the ground, though his feet drag on the soil as Merlin makes his way to the lake that is just within sight. Arthur feels heavier in his arms than before, and Merlin stumbles over roots and patches of mud as he drags the once and future king towards the large body of water. He wondered in the back of his mind if he just caused some of the haphazard debris he maneuvered around now. He tries to be careful and gentle as he trudges into the murky water, just in case his jostling could move the shard of metal to dig deeper into his body, causing more damage. The water feels frigid and shocks Merlin as he pulls Arthur in, water slowly rising up their bodies to their shoulders. Arthur is easier to move in the water, and Merlin begins praying to every god and spirit that comes to mind, begging for help.

Arthur begins to slip from Merlin’s grasp, and he yelps and readjusts his grip. His feet are tangled in plants, toes barely touching the bottom of the lake as he tries to keep their faces above the water. Merlin can feel his calves teasing a Charley horse as he stretches them to keep his face above the water, kicking the plants away to relieve the feeling of claustrophobia they create, although his efforts are in vain because he just moves into another group of plants. The cold of the water starts to hit, and Merlin feels his muscles tense and shakes as he places a hand over Arthur’s wound and begins to chant. What he chants, he cannot explain. Words pour out his mouth of their own accord. Water starts to flow into his open mouth, causing Merlin to cough, and he can tell he won’t be able to stand much longer. He begins to tread water reluctantly, wriggling his frigid body to move Arthur to a place where he can hold him and still swim. His body and mind are already exhausted, and while he considers using magic to warm himself he decides to conserve as much magic and energy as possible. The idea of swimming back and closer to shore where he has solid footing comes to mind, but he fears a lesser chance of success should he move further away from the center of the lake.

Instead, Merlin feels the need to swim closer to the island at the center of the lake, remembering the great power that may be able to help him save his king. His fingers struggle to hold on to the cold, wet, and heavy armor that Arthur wears. His lungs burn and he can feel his breath burning, becoming shallower by the second. He kicks his stiff and cramping legs further into the water. He can see his breath cloud in the air, and his cheeks sting. Just as Merlin can feel himself settling into some sort of rhythm, the muscle of his left calf finally knots into a Charley horse, and he instinctively yells and goes to grab it before realizing the mistake he’s made. His face dips beneath the surface, and water pours into his mouth. He can’t move the cramped muscle and he can’t breathe. His only relief is that he somehow managed to hold onto Arthur, and he tries to push him up to the surface. He knows it makes little difference, but admitting that would mean admitting to himself why Arthur’s face doesn’t technically need to be above the water. Holding Arthur up takes more energy than he has, and he struggles to swim himself up. Every square inch of his body was in excruciating pain, and he thought of joining his king and Freya in the lake. The lake was beautiful, it wouldn’t make a bad final resting place. Gaius and his mother would be heartbroken, but the pain of drowning sounds nicer than the pain of living on without Arthur. He exhales what little air is left in his lungs and feels himself sink slowly. The burning in his chest grew stronger as he inhaled, causing his body to involuntarily convulse, trying to expel the water. He inhaled again and thrashed for a moment before calming himself. He watched Arthur sinking down to meet him, and a wave of grief washed over him before he closed his eyes. He thought he imagined the tugging at the back of his shirt as he lost consciousness.

___ _ ___

A feeling of warmth filled his chest, spreading throughout his body and erasing the cold and much of the pain. The feeling was soft and nostalgic, and it reminded Merlin of coming home to his mother for supper after a long summer's day of playing with Will. Merlin opted to keep his eyes closed, relishing the feeling. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered if he was entering the afterlife. If this was what life after death felt like, he welcomed it with open arms. He struggled to recall the events leading up to this feeling, only able to think of one thing: Arthur. He opened his eyes and saw his king lying on his back next to him, eyes closed and skin pale. He could see mud streaked across his face, grass, and a thick fog slightly obscuring Merlin’s view of his profile. Merlin’s stomach dropped and a thick sense of dread overwhelmed him as his memories came flooding back.

That was a very unwise course of action, Merlin. Although I can’t blame you. A soft voice echoed in his mind, and he was unable to discern if its origins were audible or telepathic. He sat up and looked around, eyes landing on a translucent, ghostly woman standing on the edge of the water. A woman he recognized immediately. Her skin was clean and pale, and the way her hair didn’t quite land on her shoulders made her look like she was standing at the bottom of a body of water. She wore a band on her head covered in white pearls, and her dress matched in color but lacked the elegance of the band. It was simple, but like her hair, it flowed ever so slightly around her as if submerged under water. She looked like a goddess, but her eyes held the same sadness he remembered seeing while she was alive.

“Freya,” he gasped, voice still weak from crying. He looked at Arthur and crawled over to him, placing a hand over the spot where the sword pierced him. “Can you- can you help me?”

Merlin- she started. Merlin could feel the familiar stabbing in his throat and pressure in his eyes. He couldn’t bear to hear another magical being say there was nothing to be done, that Arthur was gone.

“Please, I’ll do anything. I’ll travel to the end of the world. I’ll trade my own life for his. Is there anything that can be done?” he begged. He moved closer to Arthur as if trying to shield him from the fate he had already met. Freya looked at him with an indiscernible expression and didn’t respond.

“Answer my question, Freya. Can you help me save him?” Merlin snapped. He did not mean to hurt her, but he was growing more frantic at the chance to fix his mistakes by the second. “I’m sorry, Freya, but please,” he begged softly, “I can’t lose him, it would break me.” He stared into her eyes, silently begging for her aid. Slowly, Freya nodded her head and Merlin felt that she had handed him the world. He leaned in and listened earnestly for what she would say next.

It will take a great amount of magic and energy, both of you will be weak for a long while, but you will both be alive. I must warn you that I cannot guarantee that he will be grateful to be saved, many have held resentment towards those who have brought them back. Merlin nodded, desperate for even five more minutes with his king. If there is a chance he can have anything, he’ll take it.

Freya instructed him to remove Arthur’s armor and to pull him into the water until his face was submerged. Arthur’s armor was cold and felt heavier than it ever had before. Without Arthur’s cooperation, the task took at least twice as long. Soft tears fell from Merlin’s eyes as he thought of the lingering touches, prolonged eye contact, and banter that usually accompanied the removal of Arthur’s professionally crafted gear. He pushed forward, yearning for the former mundanity. Piece by piece he set the armor to his side, placing it on the damp grass and rocks as if it was made of porcelain. Freya watched but said nothing as Merlin set down the last piece and started to carefully pull Arthur the short distance to the water. This time, Merlin stripped his boots and socks before stepping into the freezing water. Freya moved back to allow him room, and he noticed that she did not stand on the very top of the water as he previously thought. As Merlin moved closer to her, she looked less like a goddess and more like the girl he met years prior. They both kneeled in the water next to Arthur, who was now fully submerged. Merlin felt that the water was cold, but his hair didn’t stand on end and he felt comfortable, unlike before.

Merlin listened intently to Freya’s instructions, following every step as closely as he could. The water around them emitted a light with a soft yellow hue, and he could feel the water warm gradually. Had the situation not been dire, had Arthur been awake, he might have made a remark about Arthur relieving himself in the holy lake. He chuckled as he imagined Arthur putting him in a headlock and cupping the lukewarm water onto his head in response to the joke. Freya didn’t seem to notice as she continued chanting, Merlin mimicking the words filling the air around him and copying her movements fluidly.

Hours passed like this, though Merlin didn’t notice until the sun touched the west horizon. By this point his voice was hoarse and his vision had been fading in and out for a while. But seeing as he was still standing, he pressed on. Besides, he thought he could see the color returning to Arthur’s lips. Merlin ignored the fatigue setting in and squared his feet so he wouldn’t tip over.

Come on Arthur, you were born of magic, you died of magic, surely you can be saved by it too?

For the first time in what felt like hours, Merlin moved his eyes past Arthur to glance at Freya. She looked thinner. Her skin clung tighter to her bones, making her cheeks look hollow and her eyes sunken. Merlin felt his heart fall into his stomach. No, I didn’t want this, he thought desperately. He blamed himself for her mortal death, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he managed to end her immortal one too. Freya glanced up at him.

Focus, Merlin. As her voice echoed in his head, her form blurred. He nodded and looked back to Arthur, who now looked like he could be sleeping. A hot tear streaked down his cheek and his voice cracked as he spoke. He tried not to look at Freya; he couldn’t bear to watch her disintegrate before his eyes.

It wasn’t long before the sun dipped below the horizon. Merlin couldn’t watch the setting sun paint the sky a brilliant orange and red, the clouds starkly contrasting their background with a soft purple. Stars popped into existence above them. It was a scene that otherwise would’ve had Merlin gaping up for hours. It seemed that just after the light of the sun vanished, Freya began to glow. Soft at first, like the reflection of moonlight on a water lily. The light became more noticeable, and soon she outshone the moon that hung above her. Her voice grew softer and more distant the brighter she grew like she was moving away. When she was almost too bright to look at, she stopped chanting the ancient spells. Merlin stopped as well, squinting to look at her. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought she was moving closer, leaning over Arthur.

“I couldn’t watch you lose another beloved. You made me feel loved in life, I hope I can bring you to something close now,” she spoke. Her voice was as clear as when he first heard it, with no hint of godliness like before. He felt a soft, cool hand cup his cheek, and a kiss was pressed to his forehead. His eyes closed, mixed emotions churning in his stomach. Would he have asked so much of her had he known what she would be sacrificing?

He didn’t have time to consider the answer, for she vanished like mist in the air. When he couldn’t feel her cool presence anymore, he felt himself start to fall, consciousness waning. But just before he hit the water, he swore he saw Arthur shoot up, gasping for air.

Chapter Text

Before he even opened his eyes, Arthur could feel his head spinning. His body ached like he ran two consecutive marathons while carrying two grown men on his back, and his head throbbed like he drank the entire tavern once he finished. Even the light shining through his closed eyes was too bright, so he moved his arm to cover them. His arm felt stiff and was difficult to move. The surface he lay on was hard and felt damp. The dampness seeped through his thin clothes and the cold seeped further, sending a shiver down his body. His memory escaped him, though a feeling of resignation shrouded in melancholy lingered. Arthur wondered where Merlin was. Wherever he was, he was going to get an earful for allowing him to get this intoxicated. It was the only reasonable explanation for how he was feeling. 

With his arm still covering his eyes, Arthur slowly started to open them. Light seeped into his peripheral vision and he shut his eyes instantly when pain shot through his eyes. He moved to sit up, but the pain that coursed through his spine made everything go black again. 

— - —

Arthur was standing in a forest he scarcely recognized. He recognized the flora surrounding him as native to his kingdom, but the exact spot he couldn’t pinpoint. He looked towards the sky and estimated the time to be early morning. Bird calls echoed through the forest, and he heard movement behind him. Probably a deer. He didn’t notice anything off until the wind visibly shifted the brush, but he felt no air on his cheek. He found this curious until the snap of a branch behind him drew his attention away. 

“Merlin! You look awful. Where’s Arthur?” Arthur knew that voice. It was the voice of one of his best friends. His wife, Gwen. He turned to face where he heard her. She was dressed plainly like she had when she was palace staff. She wore a cloak with a big hood that could block the cold wind from her face. Or hide her identity. He opened his mouth to call out to her, but no sound came out. He opted to move closer. 

As he approached, Merlin came into view. Gwen was right, he looked like he had been dragged to hell and back. His hair and clothes were a worse mess than usual, and he looked like he hadn’t eaten in days. He noticed that some of the muscle mass he had gained in his decade working for him had worn away. His deathly pale complexion reminded him of some years ago when he had drunk a poisoned chalace, despite Arthur’s protests. Arthur shuddered at the memory of his then-new manservant on his deathbed, muttering an ancient poem as life slowly drained from his body. Now, Merlin stood wearing a cloak in a similar fashion to Gwen. A few paces behind him were his horse and a cart. Arthur approached the cart and looked into it, but its contents were covered. 

“Gwen, hello to you too. I’m doing great,” Merlin deadpanned. His voice sounded, for lack of a better word, like shit. It was soft and cracked noticeably at the end. 

“I’m sorry, everything has been so crazy, and I’m worried about Arthur. Some of Morgana’s servants remain loyal to her even after her death-” Her death? How long was he out? “-and I know they’ve been looking for him and I-” 

“I get it,” Merlin moved to grab her shoulders. If anyone else had moved to touch Gwen that way, Arthur would’ve moved himself between them and his wife. But it was Merlin, he and Gwen had a bond that even he couldn’t compete with. “I’m sorry for my attitude. I’ve… had a very trying few days. I also have some burdensome truths that you need to know, and I think we should move before I tell you. I don’t fully trust this spot.” Merlin looked around and made brief eye contact with Arthur. His stomach jumped at the sudden recognition before Merlin’s face seemed to blow away like sand in the wind. 

The scene before him spun away. Trees lifted and others replaced them. He felt like he stood on a battle strategy board as everything shifted around him. The sun shifted positions too, signaling that it was probably mid-afternoon wherever he was. When everything settled, Gwen and Merlin were sitting on a log side by side, the horse and cart right behind them. Gwen had tears in her eyes and Merlin looked even worse than he had before. 

“I don’t know where to go from here. That’s why I called for you,” Merlin admitted. His right leg bounced and he squeezed his hands together like he did when he was scared of something. Merlin had never admitted to being scared, but Arthur could tell. He had never seen him so distressed though. Gwen slowly nodded and then swore loudly. 

“Magic, Arthur dead, Arthur not dead. What the hell are we meant to do? I want Arthur back, but if he’s even half as bad as you say he is, he’s sure to get hurt. Emrys,” she paused, “...you… wiped out an army of Morgana’s followers, but I know there are more. Even if they have no affiliation with Morgana, there are others who are willing to attack if they sense weakness in Camelot.” 

“I know. Which is why you need to stay. You’re brilliant, and you have the love and respect of the court and citizens,” Merlin pondered aloud. “Bringing Arthur back now, I fear, would kill him. I don’t know if the stress would do him in or some kind of assassin, but it wouldn’t be pretty. And if he departs this plane again, there would be nothing I could do. I’m barely hanging on as it is. My magic feels drained, and I wouldn’t be able to protect him on the throne.” Right. The reminder of Merlin’s lies and betrayal hurt more than his head had. He would cope with that later, though. Right now he needed to focus. 

“Which is why you need to take him far away,” Gwen stated. She looked at the ground as she said it, but she said it with conviction. Merlin’s head shot up to look at her. 

“I… don’t know if that’s the best idea,” he mumbled. Gwen looked at him inquisitively, clearly wanting him to continue. Merlin sighed. “He was angry. I understand why, but it hurt nonetheless. My reveal put a crack in our relationship, and I don’t know how, or even if, I can fix it. Plus, I have no idea how he’ll see me knowing that I sacrificed so much to bring him back from a death he seemed resigned to. Frey- er, the Lady of the Lake said that many are less than grateful to their revivors. I’m just not sure-” 

“All I’m hearing from you right now is rubbish. Of course, Arthur is furious with you for keeping such a huge secret for all these years, but he’ll come around in time. If he doesn’t, I’ll kick his ass,” Gwen smiled. The corners of Merlin’s lips turned up briefly. “Besides, I need Lancelot and the other remaining knights here with me, and you’re the only other person I could possibly trust enough to look after him.” Merlin closed his eyes and let the words sink in. If Arthur were breathing in this strange dream-like state, he would have been holding his breath to see what came out of his mouth next. He was furious with Merlin. He wanted to turn away and leave. But there was always something about him that always kept Arthur listening no matter how upset he was. 

“It could be years , Gwen. It may be never. He could die tomorrow for all we know.” 

“As far as the kingdom will know, he has already died in battle. If he needs years, we’ll give him years. If he should ever return to the throne, he needs to be at full strength.” 

Merlin hesitated. “Why me, though? Why not send him with Lance or someone else he may trust more?” Arthur knew this tone. It was the tone that Merlin took on when he was confronted with the fact that people saw him as he truly was: capable, smart, and brilliant. 

“Because I trust you. Because I need the knights to help me, and you’re the only other person I trust enough to not slit his throat when he starts being a prat.” Gwen took Merlin’s face and continued; “Do it for him, and do it for me. Please, Merlin.” Tears welled in her eyes. Merlin closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and nodded to the queen. 

“Alright. There is a land that is far enough away to speak in a differing tongue, but close enough to reasonably travel. I’m fortunate enough to speak the language as well. My mother’s parents hail from there. I’ve never been, but I think I’ve heard enough tales to get us there safely.” Gwen seemed satisfied with this answer, rewarding him with a soft smile and gratitude-filled eyes. 

The dream shifted away as it had before, and Arthur fell into a deep, normal sleep. 

— - —

Arthur had no idea how to feel. As a prince, he had taken many courses in preparation for being king. He had studied the arts, law and politics, mathematics, courses concerning the cultures of the peoples that would one day be under his rule, and even a few on the basics of agriculture. He had trained for hours in the art of combat and studied warfare and inter-kingdom relations. If he had learned of a conflict between villages, he knew who he would send and which instructions to give. If he learned of violence between members of a family, he knew the crime for which them and the punishment they would be dealt. He considered himself to be relatively composed, courageous, and charismatic, and over the years he had learned humility and open-mindedness. For much of his life, he assumed that he would never face a challenge he couldn’t begin to comprehend. A challenge such as this, which he had no idea how to start to tackle. He found flaws with every angle he could conceive of. Unfortunately, this was no small matter either. Not knowing what the hell he would do or say once he stopped pretending to be unconscious in the cart pulled by a horse that Merlin rode was the most tedious challenge he had faced yet. There were so many topics he needed to discuss with Merlin, all of which he desperately wished to avoid. Arthur felt that he would rather have a conversation with Morgana about all that had unfolded between them over the past years than look Merlin in the eye right now. How is he supposed to talk to Merlin after all he’s learned? How is he supposed to trust Merlin after all that has occurred? 

Arthur wasn’t mad about the magic, at least he didn’t think so. No, it was more about the implications. Merlin had concealed a huge part of his identity for over a decade, and Arthur had been none the wiser. He was angry at Merlin for deceiving him, but the more he pondered it the less he could blame Merlin for that, especially when his father ruled. But what about when he took the throne? Had Merlin held so little faith and trust in him? Was he wrong to have ever considered Merlin a friend and confidant if this was how he felt? 

Arthur could’ve stewed angrily in his thoughts for hours, and he was sure that that was exactly what happened. He would’ve stayed that way, but over time his hunger grew and his bladder filled. He lay sprawled in the cart, under what felt like a rough fabric bag or tarp. Every part of him wanted to hide forever. He was in pain, physical and emotional, and he didn’t want to move. The universe had different plans though. The cart hit a large dip, and his head bounced, eliciting a gasp of both shock and pain. Shit . The cart almost abruptly halted. Shit . He heard a shaky inhale from the driver. Shiiittttt. 

“...Sire?” muttered the voice he desired to hear most and least in the world. He heard a soft thud on the mud at the cart's front, presumably created by a dismounting driver. He groaned as the fabric was removed slowly from his face. He moved to sit up, but Merlin pressed a hand to his chest, keeping him down. Arthur squinted in the evening sun to see his face. He looked to be feeling a mixture of elation, fear, and clear exhaustion. His eyes bore heavy bags, his hair was a disheveled mess, and the beginnings of facial hair shadowed the lower half of his face. The facial hair took him by surprise, and he stared for a few seconds too long. 

“Oh, so now you’re deciding to start using formalities?” he croaked. He pressed his hands to his face, which took much more effort than it should have. He heard a huff of air escape Merlin’s mouth, which he hoped was laughter. 

“Arthur I’m…” Merlin began. Arthur removed his hands so he could look at the face of the man he once considered to be his best friend. “I’m so sorry.”

Chapter Text

Merlin had been so preoccupied with whether or not Arthur would pull through and survive the past few days, that he hadn’t had time to think about what he would say to him. It had been a little over half a day since Arthur had woken up, and aside from Merlin blubbering apologies and providing a brief run-through of the events of the past few days (which Arthur took surprisingly well), they hadn’t said much of anything to each other. Arthur occasionally asked a question or two ( Where are we going? My maternal grandparents' homeland, about a three days walk and a few hours by sea to the west. Never been myself, heard it’s beautiful though. How long was I out? About 2 days, give or take. When have you last slept? Doesn’t matter Is Gwen ok? She will be). The question about Gwen had shaken him more than he’d like to admit. He had no idea the true answer to the question, and he had no real way of knowing without risking compromising their true position. The whole situation still didn’t feel real. 

He also felt incredibly guilty about not letting Arthur see Gwen, even though she had insisted upon it. They both knew that if Arthur had a proper say in the matter, he would have marched back to Camelot on foot and worked himself to death putting everything back together. Merlin could also tell that Gwen had some reservations and guilt about essentially banishing her husband, so she had left a handwritten letter to be given to Arthur once he woke up. The letter had been given to Arthur soon after he asked about her, and he hadn’t said a word since he read it. Merlin estimated that to have been about three hours ago. He was curious about the contents of the letter, but he knew better than to ask. Whatever Gwen had written, it seemed to subdue Arthur enough. 

The evening was approaching, and a small village appeared on the horizon. It looked big enough to have a decent inn, and small enough to not be a threat should trouble arise. He looked into his pouch, where he kept the money. Fingering through the coins and counting, he figured they could afford to rent a room or two and stock up on some basic necessities. He may even ask for some clearer directions. Besides, Merlin and Arthur both needed baths and a decent night's sleep. This may be their last chance for a while yet, Merlin figured. He had next to no idea what awaited them at their final destination. He had been brainstorming and hoped he could buy a decent plot of land and a small house. Preferably near a wooded area for privacy. 

“Arthur, how about a night at an-” Merlin started before he was cut off. 

“It does matter, Merlin,” Arthur stated. Merlin was too baffled to respond. He had no idea what Arthur was referring to. Arthur noticed and continued. “You didn’t answer my question earlier. When have you last slept? You look like shit.” Merlin swallowed. 

“Uh, the days and hours are bleeding together so I can’t give you an exact time. As I was saying, how about a night at an inn in the upcoming village?” Merlin knew that he hadn’t slept, properly at least, since he passed out after reviving Arthur and losing Freya for a second time. He hoped the prospect of a night in a bed after a bath was enough to distract Arthur. 

“You’re changing the subject, and I know you know how long it’s been. You’re not actually stupid. And, I know it’s been too long by the way you look,” Arthur retorted. Merlin felt something that could be interpreted as a laugh come out of his mouth. 

“ I look bad? Hopefully the inn has a mirror so you can look at yourself,” he said, testing the waters to see how much banter he could get away with. 

“Given the circumstances, I feel pretty alright. I doubt I could possibly look worse than you right now. Have you taken care of yourself at all?” Merlin couldn’t tell how much of Arthur’s tone was sarcasm. He was, admittedly, exhausted, and he could feel himself getting irritated with the confrontation. 

“Well, I’m sure I don’t look like I was stabbed before dying a slow and painful death, only to be narrowly dragged back from the afterlife hours later,” he said flatly with a touch of passive aggression. He instantly regretted it. He didn’t want Arthur to feel ashamed or guilty for all that had happened. 

“You’re right,” Arthur sounded irritated now. “Because if you looked like that, you’d at least look alive right now. Christ, Merlin. I’m angry with you, but that doesn’t mean I want you to slowly kill yourself over it. Switch with me, I’m riding the horse until we reach the village ahead. Eat some food and take a nap or something.” 

“Sire, I don’t feel comfortable with tha-” 

“It wasn’t a question, Merlin. And stop calling me sire, at this point, it just feels fake,” Arthur said, a bit calmer than before, though still upset. He felt Arthur’s weight shifting around in the cart as he moved and reluctantly pulled the reins to stop the horse. He closed his eyes and groaned in protest as he quickly got off and walked over to Arthur. 

“If you’re not going to drop this, at least let me make sure you don’t collapse on your way to the horse,” he bargained, holding out a hand to Arthur, who surprisingly took it. Merlin held on to Arthur’s arms as he shuffled off the cart and onto the ground where he stood for a moment before slowly walking him over to the horse. 

“When I was a boy I broke my foot and couldn’t walk for a few weeks,” Arthur recalled. “Luckily it healed well, but it felt weird to use it again once I was cleared by Gaius. This feels like that.” Arthur heaved himself onto the horse, and Merlin checked to make sure he was balanced before replying. 

“Frankly, I was expecting your recovery to be worse,” he admitted. Arthur actually snorted at this. 

“I mean, it’s not a great feeling, but it’s doable.” He gave Merlin a small smile and looked back at the cart, silently telling him to go rest. He hated to admit it, but Arthur was right. Merlin could feel his eyelids growing heavier and he slowly resigned and gave himself permission to rest his body. He got in and laid where Arthur had been. His eyes closed as Arthur flicked the reins and the horse started moving again. 

__ _ __ 

Merlin woke up to the ambient sound of village chatter and movement. He sat up and turned to look at Arthur, who was facing the front and seemed to be alright. His mouth felt dry and his tongue tasted stale. He yawned before rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with his hands. He must have been lying on his arms because he could see the folds of the fabric imprinted on his arms. He cleared his throat and Arthur looked over his shoulder. 

“Hey. I was just about to wake you up. Where are we going?” Arthur asked in what felt like a rehearsed casualty. 

“We’ll just ride around until we see a sign advertising an inn or something similar,” he replied, already skimming his eyes over the signs on the shops lining the street ahead of them. The town was charming; children played in front of the stores their parents owned, a few cats wandered around or sprawled lazily on windowsills, and a jaunty trumpet and drum tune could be heard a few streets away. The town had the energy of a shopping street in Camelot, but the quaintness and sense of community of his hometown. It was still early in the evening, but the shadow cast by the mountain that seemed to start abruptly at the town’s edge made it seem later. Lantern posts lit the streets in a soft orange glow. He glanced at Arthur, who seemed to feel the same feeling of comfort being in the town. The lanterns and what little sunlight that melted over the peak of the mountain made Arthur seem to glow regally as if he himself were made of the golden light. Even with the plain clothes he had been changed into, he still carried an air about him that demanded respect. After a few minutes of searching, Arthur leaned towards a woman walking with her daughter and asked about inns in town. The woman’s daughter looked a bit nervous, and Merlin watched as Arthur scrunched his nose and made a playful face at her as her mother described how to get to the local inn. Arthur thanked her, and they both waved as they carried on towards their respective destinations. 

“She said there’s one a few streets up and to the left owned by someone named Ceri. They have stables and they serve breakfast for a fair price,” relayed Arthur. Merlin nodded and looked away from Arthur. 

It wasn’t long until they pulled up to a large stone house with stables on the side. A hanging sign above the door read “Ceri’s Diner and Inn.” A dog lay sleeping next to the door, and it didn’t move as Merlin and Arthur tied their horse up a few paces away. Merlin leaned over to scratch its head as they walked inside. Inside the building was warm and full of people sitting at tables and chatting over food and drinks. To the left was a bar and behind that was a door to a kitchen. The place smelt of warm food, booze, smoke, and wood. Nobody paid them any attention as they walked up to the bar. 

“Excuse me, are there any vacant rooms for the night? There are two of us, plus a horse that we’ve tied out front,” Merlin asked. The bartender turned and smiled. 

“‘Course!” they said gleefully. They were thin with a pretty face and short-kept hair. Their eyes flicked between Merlin and Arthur before continuing. “Will ya be needin’ one bed or two?” 

“Wha- two, we’ll need two,” Merlin stammered. Of course they’d need two! What kind of a question was that? The barkeep, who was presumably Ceri based on the way they started ordering another person on staff to make up room three, fumbled under the bar searching for something. Merlin glanced back at Arthur, who was eyeing a passing plate of hot food. Ceri popped back up and held out two keys with a wide smile that wrinkled their nose. Merlin took the keys and handed Ceri the cash and half listened as they explained how to get to their rooms and who to call to draw water for a bath. He thanked them and went back to the cart to grab their things. The horse, who, Merlin realized, still needed a name, was already in the stables and feeding on a large pile of hay. Arthur had stayed inside and started chatting with a few locals, but he came to help when he saw Merlin struggling with their disorganized belongings. Together they walked the way Ceri had directed, and Merlin unlocked the door and almost fell in. 

“Very graceful, Merlin,” Arthur said sarcastically as he set when he carried on the ground before shutting and locking the door. Merlin started organizing what they had and looked around the room. It was a little bigger than he expected, with two decent-sized beds, a small basin filled with water in front of a mirror, a set of drawers, and an empty tub with towels hanging on the edge. Arthur splashed some water on his face and leaned on the basin and looked into the mirror. Merlin looked back to what he was doing. He was taking inventory of what they had, and he took note of what they still needed to get. He started counting the money again when Arthur started walking for the door. 

“Arthur, where are you going?” Merlin inquired as he stood. 

“I’m going to go see about getting some water to bathe. We could both use it,” he replied as he walked out. The door closed and Merlin was left alone.

Chapter Text

Arthur had needed a break from being alone with Merlin, even for just a minute. Luckily, both of them being disgusting presented a perfect excuse to leave the room. He tracked down Ceri and asked them about getting some water for a bath. They briefly eyed him and hollered into the back of the house for two people. A few minutes later he was leading them back to his room. He opened the door and saw Merlin sitting cross-legged on the floor reading a worn-looking book. All of their stuff was organized neatly, and he thanked the two employees as they left after filling the tub. Merlin shut his book and started to get up. 

“Do you need help?” he asked, and Arthur declined his offer a little more harshly than he meant to. Merlin’s movement towards him hesitated before he redirected himself towards the door. “I’ll go order some food then.” Arthur felt bad, but he was relieved to have another few moments to himself. He got into the water, which was a little bit too cold. He yearned for the baths that Merlin drew, which were always the perfect temperature. 

Why do you think they were always the right temperature? He almost regretted Merlin’s departure now, knowing that he could’ve warmed it. But then he felt sick to his stomach thinking about how he wanted to use Merlin for something so trivial while still being angry about his magic. He put the thought out of his mind and soaked his hair in the suds. 

When he finished he looked to his bed and saw that Merlin had already laid out a change of clothes. He sighed. He didn’t know how to read anything that Merlin did anymore. On one hand, many of his actions were normal. He always laid out his clothes and always offered to help with everything. But now everything Merlin did felt like an attempt to mend what he had broken with his lie. Arthur felt like he had to look for an ulterior motive for everything. He reluctantly put on the clothes Merlin had laid out after he debated getting another set, but he didn’t want to ruin Merlin’s packing. Plus that would have felt petty and immature. He sat on his bed and looked around the room. It was small, with two beds that were about the size of the one he had in his youth. Eleven years ago he would have thrown a fit about the size of everything and the mundanity, but he has since learned to accept and be grateful for what was offered. Merlin had played a big role in the development of his humility, which, though he would never admit, he was eternally grateful for. 

Something hit the door, and Arthur tensed, instinctively reaching for the hilt of his sword, only to find nothing. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and he listened intently for any sound coming from the hallway. Merlin should have had a key, so who or what was at the door? He glanced around the room but found nothing he could easily use as a weapon. He stood silently and crept towards the door. Two more thuds echoed through the room causing Arthur to jump. Based on the way the door moved, it seemed like someone was kicking the door. Moving closer he heard a muffled voice, but couldn’t make out what was being said. He turned the doorknob and peeked outside. All tension in his body dissipated and he sighed, opening the door further. It was just Merlin. He had two plates of food in each hand and half a loaf of bread in his mouth. Merlin ducked past Arthur and hurried to set the plates down on top of the small set of drawers. 

“Those were hot ,” Merlin blurted once the bread was out of his mouth and on the makeshift table. He rubbed his hands on his trousers. He let out a content sigh and looked at Arthur expectantly and gestured to the food he had brought. Arthur gawked at him. 

“You idiot,” he mumbled before walking over. Merlin shrugged and popped a chunk of potato into his mouth before walking toward the other side of the room. Arthur glanced over his shoulder to look where Merlin was going as he sat on the edge of the bed nearest the drawers. Merlin kicked off his shoes and socks. Arthur pulled the drawers holding the plates of hot food closer to him. When he glanced back to Merlin, he saw that his shirt was off and he was working on his trousers. Arthur blushed but continued looking. 

A few years ago, after Gwaine was knighted, he, Merlin, and Arthur had gone on a short diplomatic mission together. Gwaine and Merlin had been good friends, so on the ride back they were messing around. Gwaine had Merlin in a headlock, and they were all laughing as Merlin tried to free himself. It was weird to think back on now, knowing that Merlin could have beaten both Gwaine and Arthur without any effort at all. At this time, though, that knowledge didn’t burden him. Merlin ended up breaking from Gwaine’s hold, only to trip backward into a large patch of muddy earth. They had had time to spare, so they stopped to allow Merlin to change into clean clothes. That was the first time Arthur had noticed how much muscle Merlin had built up during his years working for him. He wasn’t huge, but he was definitely not the little twig of a man he had met years prior. Since that mission, Arthur always noticed his build and how strong Merlin was. Especially when Merlin wore the knights' armor. 

However, as Arthur unconsciously stared at Merlin across the room, he noticed how much of that muscle had deteriorated. He also noticed all of the severe scars on Merlin’s back, ones that looked like they could have been the result of years on a battlefield. He wanted to keep looking, to trace each and every one and figure out where they came from, but he shook his head and looked back to his food before Merlin had the chance to look back and catch him. Besides, he was starving and the food smelled delicious. 

There were four plates total, plus the bread. Arthur figured two were for him and two were for Merlin. One plate had a slice of savory pie and sausages. The other was a wide bowl of stew with beef, carrots, potatoes, and a few spices. All thoughts of Merlin left his mind as he bit into the pie and dipped chunks of bread into the broth. He closed his eyes and sighed heavily as the potatoes seemed to melt in his mouth. He licked the grease off of his fingers when he finished eating the sausages. It wasn’t the best food Arthur had ever been served in his life, but in that moment it tasted like it came straight from the kitchen of the world's finest chef. He didn’t process Merlin walking up beside him, taking his own plate of pie and sausage, and sitting down on the opposite end of the bed to eat. When he finished he lay back on the bed with his legs hanging off the edge and groaned. He probably should’ve eaten slower, he thought, but it was worth it. He heard a chuckle and opened his eyes to see Merlin turning his head away. He closed his eyes again. 

“Thank you, Merlin,” he said. He could practically feel Merlin tense at the other end of the bed. 

“Uh, of course,” Merlin replied. The weight shifted and Arthur opened his eyes again to watch Merlin swap plates and grab the bread. He itched his growing beard before starting on the stew. Arthur had been in a mental war over the last few hours, debating whether or not he liked it or not. The beard, coupled with his longer hair, which was damp and looked wavy, as well as the smaller frame made him look almost like a completely different person. He only saw the Merlin he had known for years in his blue eyes and mannerisms. It helped with the cognitive dissonance of knowing his big secret now, but it was all still too strange. He decided then that the part of his brain in favor of the beard had won the war. It also made him look more mature, and, admittedly, handsome. 

“I don’t hate the beard,” he admitted. He froze when he realized that those words had escaped his mind and entered into the world. Merlin looked at him with doe eyes, frozen as well. They looked into each other's eyes for a beat too long for comfort. 

“Uh, thanks. I wasn’t sure about it, but I haven’t had the means to do anything about it,” Merlin said cautiously. 

They sat in silence. Merlin had gone back to silently eating while Arthur thought about how to ask his next question, one that had been burning in the back of his mind. 

“How… how long have you had it?” he ventured. Merlin’s hand froze halfway between his bowl and mouth. He set the contents back into the bowl. 

“Well, I think I first noticed facial hair when I was 15, and I’ve been shaving regularly ever since. But this beard started coming in a few days ago,” he joked and followed it up with an awkward chuckle. Arthur didn’t laugh. 

“Merlin.” 

Merlin closed his eyes and took in a deep breath before responding; “Do we have to talk about it right now?” When Arthur didn’t answer, Merlin exhaled heavily through his nose. “I’ve always had it. I was born with it. It didn’t randomly appear one day, it’s always been there, and I never asked for it.” Arthur covered his face with his hands. So he has had it this whole time.  

“Why did you never tell me?” he asked. Merlin scoffed. 

“You’re not an idiot, Arthur. I’m sure you can figure out why I couldn't tell you,” Merlin said plainly with a touch of sarcasm. His response agitated Arthur. 

“Merlin I asked because I want to hear your reasoning for keeping magic from me for over a decade ! Why did you never trust me? Why did I have to find out on my deathbed ?” he snapped. Merlin didn’t answer, he just put his bowl next to the others and leaned forward to rest his face in his hands, groaning into his palms. He didn’t even look at Arthur, which made him even more angry. “Merlin, answer me,” he commanded. Merlin snapped his head towards him with a look that combined scornful anger and raging grief. Arthur had never felt intimidated by Merlin, but he felt his stomach drop slightly as Merlin stood over him and directed every ounce of his attention on Arthur. 

“At what point” -he spoke evenly and firmly. Arthur could feel a pent-up and painful weight behind each word- “could I have safely told you. At what point, in the past decade, could I have told you without it ending horribly? When-” his voice cracked, and Arthur felt his heart sink as he saw moisture building behind Merlin’s eyes, “-would you have listened and accepted it as part of me without anger?” Arthur gaped up at him. He could feel his heart beating as Merlin stared deep into his eyes, willing a response from him. It dawned on him that Merlin was right, which made him mad at himself for not noticing how indoctrinated his father had made him. How had it taken him until now to realize that if Merlin had at any point revealed his secret sooner, his reaction would have been the same or even worse than it was now?

“I-” he started, but no words came to mind. There was nothing he could say to Merlin right now. Arthur watched the tension in Merlin’s body melt before he walked silently to the other side of the room. He sat down on his bed and put his boots on and grabbed his room key. He stalked over towards the door and glanced at Arthur. 

“I’m going out for a bit,” he said shortly before walking out and shutting the door curtly behind him. Arthur was left behind sitting dumbly on the bed, wondering what the hell just happened. 

__ _ __ 

Arthur decided to wait an hour before he got up to go find Merlin, wanting to give him some space. He brought the plates out with him and dropped them off at the bar, where he expected to find Merlin, as he often frequented the local tavern back home. He searched the entire building with increasing anxiety before heading outside to continue his search. The night air was cold and there was a slight breeze. The sky was clear and the moon lit up the town, making it easier to see. He tried to think of where Merlin could be and decided to head to the stables. The heavy door groaned and the hinges squeaked as he pushed it open enough to slip inside. The stables darkened when the door shut behind him, and the whole place smelt of damp straw and old wood. He walked up and down the stalls, peaking in each one to check for his missing friend. It was hard to see by the light of the moon coming through small windows and cracks in the wall and ceiling. Arthur was running out of stalls where Merlin could be hiding. He reached the back corner and stuck his head over the stall gate to see Merlin brushing their horse with a blank look on his face. The moonlight shone through an opening in the wall and danced in his eyes and on his curls. Merlin looked like a painting, albeit a very sad one. He decided to try and lighten the mood. 

“I’m surprised to find you in the stables, considering how averse you are to them at home,” he tried to joke. Merlin looked at him but didn’t say anything. When he directed his attention back on the horse, Arthur tried again. “Come on Merls, nothing? I’m sorry.” 

“What are you sorry for, exactly?” Merlin asked. The question caught Arthur off guard, and Merlin repeated it when he didn’t answer, this time looking up at him and meeting his eyes. “What are you apologizing for?” 

“I’m apologizing because I clearly upset you, and I also didn’t mean to get so upset. I’m just confused and I’m trying to sort things out,” he said, hoping it was a satisfactory answer. Merlin dropped his hand holding the brush to his side. 

“You still don’t get it, do you?” he whispered, looking at his shoes. The question didn’t sound like it necessarily wanted an answer, but Arthur was tired of being kept in the dark on matters concerning Merlin. He was tired of making wild guesses as to what was going on. 

“I don’t get what? What is it that I still don’t understand?”

“Everything,” Merlin said more sternly. “All that I’ve gone through, given up and sacrificed. Most of it for you,” Merlin looked up and met Arthur’s eyes, and Arthur felt his breath hitch. 

“So tell me then !” 

“I didn’t have a choice! I’ve never had a choice in any of the major parts of my life!” -Merlin started to pace in the little bit of space he had as he continued- “I fled Ealdor because I was in danger of being found out and prosecuted. I came to Camelot because Gaius was the only family I had that wasn’t my mother or my father, who, by the way, I watched die and then had to pretend his death meant nothing because I couldn’t risk you making any connection between his magic and mine. Balinor was my father, and I watched him die just after meeting him. I became your servant because the King insisted. And then I couldn’t quit because I found out that it was my destiny to protect you !” Merlin spat out. Tears filled his eyes as he continued on, more calmly but still filled with pain. 

“I watched friends die. I failed to save everyone. I failed to save you , the very person I was born to save ! I got shot, poisoned, beaten, injured, mocked, arrested, and humiliated. And I couldn’t do anything about it because if I left I would be failing my gods' damned destiny .” Arthur watched, unable to move or say anything in response. Merlin started crying and he squatted down and hugged his knees. Without knowing what else to do, Arthur sat next to his servant and thought about what he had said. 

A whirlwind of emotions filled his mind, and he felt his throat growing tight and pressure building behind his eyes. He felt like an ass. He wanted to throw up. This whole time, he thought Merlin stayed because he felt a connection to Arthur. Arthur knew that he had considered Merlin to be a true friend, and at times the only person he could really trust. He had occasionally wondered to himself about why Merlin never left to work with Gaius or to go home to his mother, and now he had his explanation. He now knew the reason behind Merlin’s devotion and service. It wasn’t out of admiration, loyalty, friendship, or… anything else; it was because he had no other choice. This revelation hurt infinitely more than everything he had learned and all the horrible explanations he had speculated prior. If this was the truth, he wished that Merlin had just let him be at peace in the lake. He wanted to set Merlin free from his destiny’s obligations. From his obligations to Arthur . Arthur closed his eyes and felt a hot tear fall down his cheek. He took a deep breath to try and calm himself. He heard Merlin stand and he looked up to see his eyes red and puffy, hair a mess, and face wet with tears. 

“And the worst, most confusing part is that- I would do it all again in a heartbeat,” Merlin whispered. Without looking at Arthur he turned and walked back inside. Arthur watched but didn’t follow. For a while, he sat in the stables and sobbed. When he finally did come back inside, he opened the door to find that Merlin was already asleep.

Chapter Text

The headache was what woke Merlin up at the crack of dawn. Now that he was properly rested, his body was able to catch up with processing everything else that was wrong with him. For starters, his head was pounding. The pressure seemed to press against the inside of his head like his brain was pushing out, trying to escape its dark prison. Past the headache, he felt weak and empty. The magic that he had grown so accustomed to no longer filled his being, swirling with warmth and electricity. Instead, it felt distant and shriveled. It was a similar feeling to the one he had experienced when he lost his magic not too long ago. The only difference was that he knew it was still there, it was just beyond his reach. It was like being outside in a frigid winter storm and looking in through a window and seeing a fire, but not being able to enjoy the warmth and comfort it emitted. He itched to use it but hesitated because he had no idea what might happen if he reached within himself to touch what little magic lingered. He didn’t want it to disappear with his efforts, and he didn’t want to surprise it and have it lash out like a scared animal. 

Light floated through the window through a crack in the curtains, highlighting particles of dust hanging in the air, creating the illusion of snow in the room. Merlin sat up and stretched his arms, which felt tight and heavy. His eyes drifted towards Arthur as he heard him shift under the blankets. Arthur’s back faced Merlin, and he was curled up in a fetal position. Normally Arthur only slept like that on missions when they had to camp outside, vulnerable to bandits and the elements. At home, he opted to sprawl out across his bed. 

Merlin stood up and quietly slipped into his change of clothes for the day. The scarf he wore the day before smelled of the stables, so he left it behind. He felt a bit exposed without it, but he didn’t want to bother Arthur by digging through the bags and swearing while trying to hunt down his spare. Now that he was ready, he went to shake the king awake but hesitated, stopping his hand inches away from his shoulder. Merlin had been asleep when Arthur came in the night before, so he had no idea what time Arthur actually got to bed. Plus, he realized, he did not want to talk to Arthur just yet. Merlin knew that much of his anger directed at Arthur wasn’t Arthur’s fault personally, but that didn’t make him feel better. Fair or not, Arthur was the closest scapegoat Merlin had for all of the conflicting emotions that clouded his head. Besides, he wasn’t completely innocent. Merlin had felt cornered last night, and he felt just in his irritation and desire for solitude for the next few hours. 

Merlin stepped back from the bed and grabbed a satchel and pouch of coins before slipping silently out of the room. When he entered the tavern portion of the building, he saw plenty of people eating breakfast together and laughing. The smell of eggs, meats, and fresh bread filled the building and Merlin’s mouth watered. He decided to order breakfast for Arthur and himself when he got back. 

Merlin stepped outside and breathed in the fresh air. It was still dewy, and the early morning sun peaked over the mountain to the east, gently brushing the town with a soft yellow glow. Merlin’s access to his own magic may have been limited, but he could still feel the magic of life buzzing around him. The grass and flowers on the mountain hummed softly, the feeling rolling down the mountain towards the town with the breeze. 

The next hour of his morning was spent talking to locals about how to reach his final destination. Most people could direct him in the general direction, but most could not provide details. He was about to give up hope of finding any useful direction until he stumbled upon an elderly gentleman with an acceptance similar to that of his mother’s father. He asked the man how to get to the land he sought, and the old man’s face lit up when he finished his question. The man explained in great detail how to get to a port that traveled the sea once a week, who to ask for, what tricks to use when haggling, and what to do when he reached the land, which the old man called Hibernia. When he finished, Merlin thanked him in the language taught to him by his grandparents as a child. The old man beamed and Merlin set out to buy some supplies for their travels. 

__ _ __ 

Merlin estimated that he was gone for an hour before he dragged his feet back to Ceri’s Inn. The satchel was full of dried beans, a bag of flour, salt, and cheese. In his arms he carried a bag of carrots that he could feed to their horse, which he had decided to name Winifred, in part after the famous Martyr, but mostly so he could call her Winnie as a nickname. After their time spent together the night before, he felt bad letting her walk around without a name. 

The dog had returned to the step of the inn, chewing on a branch. Merlin scratched its ears before walking inside. He thought about what he wanted for breakfast when he turned the corner towards the bar only to see Arthur facing Ceri, looking shaken. 

“Arthur?” Merlin called out, cocking his head to the side and walking over. “Everything alright?” Arthur all but ran over to him, grabbing him in a bear hug. 

“I thought you left me,” Arthur whispered before pulling away and smacking Merlin upside the head. Merlin let out a cry of surprise and Arthur continued, “Where in the world did you go? Why didn’t you leave any sort of note?” 

“I went out to get some directions and supplies, you clotpole!” Merlin explained as if it were the most obvious thing in the world as he held up the stuffed satchel and bag of carrots. “You were dead asleep so I figured I’d leave you and order breakfast when I got back.” Arthur rubbed his hands over his face. 

“Right, right… of course,” he took a deep breath before turning towards the bar again. “What’s on the menu?” Merlin stared at him for a second before replying. 

“I was going to get us each eggs and ham, with a loaf of bread to split,” Merlin said, looking at Ceri, who had been watching the whole affair. They nodded and said they’d have the food taken to their room. Merlin and Arthur walked back to the room in silence. Merlin noticed himself getting lightheaded as they neared their door, and he stumbled into the wall as Arthur unlocked the door. Arthur’s head shot up towards him and Merlin closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Woah woah woah, what’s wrong?” Arthur asked, grabbing Merlin’s elbow to support him as he regained his balance. 

“Umm, nothing. Nothing, just a little dizzy spell. All good,” Merlin said, blinking hard and starting into the room again. As he went to pass Arthur, he grabbed the satchel from Merlin’s shoulder and followed him in. He obviously didn’t believe Merlin, but he was kind enough to not press further. However, he was not kind enough to let Merlin leave the room again when he got up to go check on Winnie. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Arthur asked when Merlin made for the door holding two carrots that he removed from the bag. 

“To give Winifred a treat,” Merlin replied, holding up the carrots. Arthur’s lips pressed into a flat line and he nodded shortly. 

“Nice try, sit down,” he commanded. When Merlin rolled his eyes and sat back down, Arthur asked, “And who is Winifred?” 

“Our horse, I named her this morning while I was out. Winnie for short.” Arthur responded with a sweet smile. Merlin allowed himself a small smile in response before putting the carrots in the bag. He would present them to Winnie when they left after breakfast. 

“So,” Arthur started, and Merlin looked up at him. Arthur hesitated for a moment before he began speaking again, “Did you get directions? I see you got food for the trip.” There was a tone in Arthur’s voice that suggested that that was not the question he had really wanted to ask, but Merlin let it go and recanted all that the old man had told him. Arthur listened intently and nodded. 

“What else did you want to ask me just then?” Merlin asked. Arthur put on a very convincing puzzled look. 

“What are you talking about?” he asked. Merlin rubbed his face in the palms of his hands and groaned. 

“Clearly, you have something else you want to say or ask. What is it?” Merlin asked, trying to infuse patience into his voice. Arthur wrung his hands together and opened his mouth to respond, but he was cut off by a knocking on the door. 

“I’ll get it,” Arthur said, standing up. He opened the door and took the plates from the young girl standing there. He shut the door with his foot and struggled to balance the plates and bread as he walked to set them down on the same chest of drawers that they had set their dinner plates on the night before. They sat on the bed next to one another with their makeshift table in front of them. They both started to tear into the bread and ham that lay before them. 

“So what did you want to say?” Merlin asked again. Arthur glared at him and Merlin stared right back, unwavering. “You got to bombard me with uncomfortable questions last night, it’s my turn. Tell me.” Arthur looked at the ceiling like it would help him form the words that he would say next. 

“I’m sorry about your father. I know what it’s like to be missing a parent for your whole life, and I can’t imagine how elated I would feel to meet them, or the heartbreak I would feel after having them taken from me so soon after.” Merlin blinked and looked at his plate of food. 

“Thank you,” he said softly. He could feel the rift between them mend slightly. “I wish that I could have told you sooner. About my-” 

“I know. And you were right, there was never a right time, and there was never going to be. I’m thankful that I know now.” Merlin hid a small smile, and he swallowed before asking his next question. 

“Do you…” Merlin started. He took a deep breath before he continued; “How differently do you see me now?” Merlin held his breath as Arthur pondered the question. 

“Admittedly, quite differently. There is so much conflict in my head right now, having grown up being taught to hate magic in all its forms-” Merlin shifted away slightly at this confession. Arthur noticed and put his hand on Merlin’s shoulder before finishing. “-but also having known you for years. You are unwaveringly loyal, genuine, and kind. I couldn’t hate you if I tried, even with the magic. I feel like I see you wholly now, like a piece I didn’t even know was missing has been filled in. I think… I think I just need time to adjust to everything.” Merlin was fighting tears by the time Arthur finished. He managed to mutter a simple ‘thank you’ in response. Arthur nodded, and they both ate in silence. 

They then cleaned up, packed, loaded the cart, and rode away from the village in silence. It wasn’t an awkward silence, but a peaceful one; it was a silence that they needed. 

Chapter Text

Arthur wanted to break the silence so badly. 

Not because the silence was unbearably tense or anything, he had just gotten bored about two hours after they had departed the town that morning. They hadn’t spoken since their conversation over breakfast where Arthur apologized to Merlin about the loss of his father and admitted that he would need time to adjust to the idea of his apparently not-so-idiotic manservant having magic. And not only having magic, but being one of the most powerful beings to have ever walked the Earth, according to Gaius. He had so many questions about his abilities, and there were a few events from the previous years that, looking back, seemed suspicious, and he wanted to ask Merlin if magic was involved then. He managed to hold his tongue. 

They sat side by side at the front of the cart. Arthur held the reigns to Winnie, and Merlin wrote in a leather-bound book with charcoal pencil. Admittedly, Arthur tried to take a peek at what Merlin was writing, but he couldn’t make anything out. At just a glance, one could reasonably believe that Merlin wasn’t writing words at all, but scribbling lines on the paper. The only thing that led Arthur to believe otherwise was the large curl of the ‘g’ and flourished cross of the ‘t’ that Merlin always did. Aside from those two letters, Merlin’s handwriting had always been difficult to parse, even when he put effort into making it neat. Ironically, despite his horrid penmanship, Merlin wasn’t half bad at drawing. He was no Giotto, but his spatial awareness and proportions when drawing were impressive. Merlin glanced up at him and caught his eye and smirked. 

“I knew you were a prat, I never took you for a snoop too,” Merlin joked. Arthur feigned offense at the accusation. 

“I am your king, I have the right to know anything I wish to know,” he proclaimed. “What are you writing, anyway?” 

“It’s a secret,” Merlin declared pompously. 

“iT’s a sEcrET,” Arthur mocked. He leaned over obnoxiously, peering at the pages. “C’mon, what’re you writing?” Merlin laughed and swatted him with the book. 

“Fine, if you must know, I’m documenting my descent into madness. Seeing as I’m spending every second of my day with you now, I suspect it won’t take long,” Merlin laughed and playfully punched Arthur’s arm. It didn’t hurt, of course, but Arthur was in a lighthearted mood and decided to keep up the banter. After all, Merlin was smiling at him for the first time in what must be weeks at this point. He grabbed his arm and gasped. 

“Merlin, assault of the King! That’s punishable by death!” 

“Oh please, I’ve probably set the record on death sentences earned under Camelot’s laws. I frequently commit high treason before I even wake you up in the morning,” Merlin boasted in good humor. Arthur was surprised to find himself snickering at Merlin’s response. Merlin continued on. “Besides, I’ve saved your royal ass countless times and I quite literally brought you back from the dead. I think it evens out. Stop Winnie?” Arthur stopped the horse and looked puzzled as Merlin hopped off the cart. “Nature calls,” Merlin explained in a whisper-yell. 

When Merlin finished, Arthur heard him rustling in the back. He turned and saw him withdraw two carrots from the burlap sack and walk over to the horse. Merlin fed them to the horse and whispered inaudibly to her as he stroked her fur. Arthur had observed over the years that Merlin seemed more at ease when interacting with animals and nature, and now was no exception. His eyes were calm and his voice was soft as he fed Winnie. Arthur briefly wondered if there was anybody in Merlin’s life that he had looked at with the soft, fond eyes that he usually reserved for animals. He wondered what it felt like to be on the receiving end of that look. 

“Would you like to give her this one?” Merlin asked, snapping Arthur out of his thoughts. Merlin’s arm was extended towards him with the carrot in hand. Winnie turned her head, following its movement. Arthur smiled and took it before moving next to where Merlin was. He watched the horse crush the carrot and its stem between her teeth. She had licked his hand a little when she took the last bit, and he wiped her saliva on the front of Merlin’s shirt, eliciting a yelp and a smack on the arm. “Disgusting,” he heard Merlin whisper. Arthur laughed and moved towards the cart. 

“C’mon, let's get going,” he said, and Merlin rolled his eyes and got on next to him. Arthur took up the reins and Merlin kept working in his notebook. The air was crisp and sweet, and a soft breeze rustled his and Merlin’s hair. The scratch of Merlin’s pencil slowed, and Arthur looked down to see that Merlin was now drawing rather than writing. He smiled to himself and allowed himself to watch him discreetly as he drove. The simple lines took the shape of a building, and as Merlin added more detail, he recognized it as the inn they stayed in. Merlin’s attention to detail was exquisite, and Arthur wished that he could lean over and analyze each line that Merlin pressed to the old paper.

After some time, he watched from the corner of his eye as Merlin patted his waist before looking at Arthur and scanning his body. He was about to ask Merlin what in hell he was looking for, but he swallowed his tongue and any words he thought of saying when Merlin leaned over him and reached across his body at his hip. He gaped dumbfounded when Merlin moved away, now holding the small knife that was previously attached to Arthur’s belt. Merlin started to sharpen the tip of the pencil, and Arthur kept staring at him. He couldn’t explain why he was staring at Merlin, just as he couldn’t explain the way he felt his stomach drop like he was leaning over a cliff when Merlin’s fingers brushed his side. Merlin seemed to notice and looked up at him. Merlin gave him a cheeky grin, but Arthur didn’t miss the color of his ears change. 

“Just need it for a second, you’ll get it back, sire,” Merlin reassured, turning his attention back to sharpening the pencil. Arthur moved his focus back to the road. 

It wasn’t long before he could hear seagulls screeching and waves hitting the shore. The wind picked up the salty, fishy smell omitted by the water. Merlin wrapped his book and pencil up and put them away. 

“Alright, so we’ve got to look for someone by the name of  Lí Ban,” Merlin said. “According to the man I met at the market, she sails across the sea every few days and often takes passengers and their cargo for a fair price, especially if they were sent by somebody she knows.” 

“And how do you know you can trust this man you met or the woman he’s sent you to?” Arthur asked. It was a fair question, he thought, considering their circumstances and the reason for their departure from Camelot. He trusted Merlin’s judgment of others, he was very good at weeding out those who couldn’t be trusted. But as he gained more strength, his suspicion of others came back as well. 

“I can just tell. There was nothing… off about him. I can’t really explain it. Just to be safe though, stay back here with Winnie. She needs to eat anyway.” Arthur pulled on the reins to stop the horse right by a small stream of fresh water. Merlin hopped off and started walking towards the shoreline where a small building stood. Arthur started to follow him. 

“Are you sure you’re ok to go yourself?” Arthur called out. 

“Yeah! Now stay with Winnie!” 

“Aren’t I the one supposed to be giving orders?” Arthur muttered to himself, kicking a rock. Winnie had already started tearing up grass. They were on top of a tall hill which looked over the sea. The sky was blanketed with thick grey clouds. There were a few cracks in the thick layer which allowed streams of sunlight to shine through and decorate the horizon. As Arthur looked at the house at the bottom of the hill, he realized that there was a steep drop off which presumably led to the ocean. As there wasn’t much else for him to do, Arthur detached Winnie from the cart so she could wander a bit more and he sat in the grass and ended up leaning back to look at the shifting clouds above. 

As much as Arthur hated to admit it, he was still conflicted about Merlin having magic. It was both the best and worst thing that could have happened. His attitude towards magic had changed over the past few years, to the point that he had been planning on lifting certain bans and restrictions his father had set in place. Despite this, there were multiple things that still irked him. While the fact that Merlin hadn’t told him until he was dying did still bother him, he was trying to be forgiving on that front. Merlin was right when they argued the other day; there was no right time or right way for Merlin to have told him. Various lines from Merlin’s rant echoed through his head. ‘ I didn’t have a choice’ soaked his consciousness and he shivered. The thought of Merlin never having any autonomy throughout his life made him nauseous. 

He sat up and watched Merlin talk to a blonde woman by the house. He couldn’t articulate his feelings about Merlin’s magic, but he now realized that his devotion to Merlin hadn’t swayed. He would still venture to a faraway mountain to find a specific flower to save him if it was necessary, and he still trusted Merlin with his life. He did save it, after all. 

Merlin started to walk back up the hill, and Arthur stood and started walking down to meet him. 

“Lady Luck is on our side today, she’s actually meant to sail tomorrow morning. She can’t offer us accommodation for the night, but she is willing to share her meal and give us and Winnie a ride for nearly free,” reported Merlin. “Luckily, despite the clouds, it doesn’t seem like it will rain tonight so we can just sleep outside.” 

“And we’re sure she won’t knock us out and sell us to the highest bidder?” 

“Pretty sure, yeah.” 

“Good enough,” Arthur conceded. 

__ _ __

The stew that Lí Ban made was delicious and filling. Merlin had given her some of the beans he bought to add to it, despite her polite protests. She dished it out and explained what the journey across the sea would look like and what she needed from them. The gist of it was “Help me load the cog ship in the morning and stay out of the way when we’re on the water.” Arthur was not too fond of the sea or sailing, so he had no objections. Lí Ban had turned in for the night, leaving Merlin and him outside alone. Merlin had coaxed Winnie down the steep hill with the cart in tow, and now they lay on their sleeping packs side by side. The clouds had cleared up a little and they could see the stars. A small fire crackled a few paces away, and the smell of smoke permeated the air and mixed with the salt of the sea. His stomach was full and he felt at ease laying next to Merlin. He curled up on his side and closed his eyes, finding sleep easily. 

The departure preparations the following morning were pretty straightforward. Although they were steep, Lí Ban had ramps that led down to the dock with her ship for Winnie to walk down. The tight turns were difficult with the cart, but they managed. The ship was small, and there was an area in the back where Winifred and the cart could fit, along with everything Lí Ban brought. She ordered him and Merlin to sit back with the cargo unless they had sailing experience. Arthur knew next to nothing of the sea and was content to sit next to the horse, especially when more men and women started getting on the ship who looked more comfortable than him. 

Merlin surprised him when he stood and offered his assistance when Lí Ban asked for help on behalf of the rigger, whose shoulder was dislocated during an unrelated accident. He watched Merlin walk over to the man, who started gesturing to the ladder and the ropes ahead, and Merlin nodded. When he came back towards Arthur, Arthur grabbed his arm and pulled him close. 

“What’re you doing? Since when do you know anything about rigging a ship?” he questioned. Merlin shrugged his hand off. 

“It’s something I’ve picked up. Like I’ve said before, I’m a man of many talents. Besides, it’s safer for me to go up with limited experience and directions being shouted at me than it is for the usual guy to go up with his shoulder. It’ll be ok.” 

“Are you sure?” Arthur implored, his anxiety betraying him and creeping into his voice. Merlin nodded and Arthur sat back down. 

When they pulled away from the dock, Arthur remembered why he hated being on the water. He was in a fixed spot with few options of escape if it were necessary. The ground was also unsteady beneath his feet and he didn’t like it. It was like all of the worst parts of being drunk. Without any of the benefits. 

As they got farther out into the water and the waves started shaking the ship more, he had to close his eyes and clench his hands into balls. It helped with the nausea and had the added bonus of not having to see Merlin sway on the mast above. He sat like that for a few minutes before he heard footsteps approaching. He opened his eyes and saw Merlin squatting down next to him. 

“You alright?” Merlin asked. Arthur managed a short nod. 

“Splendid, yourself?” Merlin squinted suspiciously. 

“Fine. Lí Ban said the sails are good for a bit so I’m taking a break.” Merlin paused for a moment. “You know, if you’re feeling seasick or uncomfortable being on the ship, I could…” Merlin wiggled his fingers to make his point. Arthur’s breath stilled before he shook his head. “Not there yet, got it,” Merlin said, sounding dejected. Arthur would love to accept anything that would get rid of his nausea or anxiety, but he was far from being in a place where he felt comfortable seeing Merlin openly use magic quite yet. Plus, they couldn’t risk Merlin being seen by others on the ship. They may be out of Camelot, but he knew magical prejudice wasn’t uncommon in neighboring kingdoms, even if it wasn’t as bad as Camelot. 

“Sorry,” Arthur muttered. 

“‘S alright. It probably wasn’t a good idea anyway, I haven’t even been strong enough to light a candle since uh… yeah,” Merlin admitted in response. Arthur shot Merlin a look that he hoped conveyed the fact that they would be talking about that later. It seemed to have worked because Merlin stammered out some excuse about being needed on deck and scampered off.

Arthur resumed his position of closing his eyes and clenching his hands into a ball and counted in an attempt to keep track of the time and distract himself from the sway of the ship. He counted about three hours before he heard a commotion on deck. He stood up to investigate, and his breath escaped him as his gaze landed upon giant rock walls and lush green hills shrouded in fog abruptly shot out of the sea in front of him. He was mesmerized by the view in front of him and he stood gaping as Lí Ban shouted directions at her crew. He was pulled out of his shock when a particularly large wave hit the side of the ship and he felt bile crawl up his throat. He ran to the side of the ship and expelled it. 

“We’ve got a spewer!” a man shouted, prompting the rest of the crew to jeer and laugh. He spat out the rest of his stomach contents and stayed facing the sea and sighed. At least this was almost over. 

“Oi, spewer! Rinse of anything that got on the side of the ship,” Lí Ban commanded. Arthur raised his hand to indicate that he heard her. He reached an arm in to scoop up some salty water to rinse his mouth with and then splashed some on the ship for good measure. 

“Lovely,” he muttered to himself. He went and sat back down, ignoring the crew, and waited for them to dock. 

Chapter Text

“Never would’ve thought you to be bad on the sea,” Merlin teased. They had parted ways with the ship a few hours ago and Arthur was still sitting back in the cart while Merlin guided Winifred. 

“Piss off, Merlin. I didn’t have much exposure to it growing up,” muttered Arthur. His stomach still felt off, and the rocking of the cart didn’t help much, Merlin assumed. He had given Arthur some tea once they had gotten a comfortable distance away from the shore, and he hadn’t drunk much thus far. It must have gone cold by then. Merlin looked inside of himself and took stock of his magic. It had gotten better, but still wasn’t even a fraction of what it once was. Still, though, it wouldn’t hurt to try. He pulled Winnie to a halt and looked around. Nobody was around, and he turned back to Arthur, who looked at him inquisitively. He steeled himself to ask Arthur. 

“It’s been a while,” he said, gesturing to his tea. “Can I try and warm it up?” He bit the inside of his cheek as he watched his question register with Arthur. He hesitated, but Arthur handed the cup over to him. Merlin whispered a small spell, the same one he used 100 times a day normally to heat up water for cooking, bathing, and even on clothes in the winter. He felt the magic inside him stir, almost like it was yawning after a long nap. It crawled from his core and down his arms and fingers, warming the contents of the cup. The tea steamed, and Merlin smiled at the proof that he hadn’t lost his abilities like he feared he might have. He looked up to see Arthur’s expression, a little nervous that he would find fear or disgust. Instead, Arthur’s face was blank, and staring at the heat emitted from the cup. 

“Huh,” Arthur said neutrally, which didn’t help the nerves in Merlin’s stomach. He knew Arthur had said he was making peace with the fact that Merlin had magic, but he’d only ever seen it once before, when he was dying from Mordred’s strike. Arthur looked him in the eyes. “Did you know that your eyes glow?” 

“Yeah. My peripheral vision gets a gold tint to it too,” Merlin spoke, trying to match Arthur’s neutral energy. 

“Hm. Interesting. Thank you.” Merlin handed the cup back to him and turned around quickly. “Merlin, how much longer are we traveling for? Do we actually have a final destination?” 

“I figured that we should ride until we find a town. Then we’ll see if there are any available plots of land outside of town but still nearby.” 

“And what will we do once we obtain land?” 

“Well, if there’s no building on it, we’ll build a small one where we can stay. Then we’ll use the lands resources to hopefully start up a garden. And then we’ll live there.” Merlin looked back. “Does that satisfy you, your highness?” Arthur rolled his eyes. 

“Shut up, Merlin. And yes, yes it does.” Merlin smiled to himself and put his eyes back on the road. 

Fortunately for them, the nearest town wasn’t far away. It was spread around a river that ran out of a sparse wood. The town was surrounded by a wall, and an impressive but comparatively small castle stood near the edge of town. Merlin assumed that was the home of the local lord. 

– - – 

By some miracle (and a bit of magical persuasion), Merlin had gained Arthur and himself ownership of a small but stable abandoned hut about a thirty minutes ride into the woods by the end of the day. It took nearly two hours just to find anyone who knew of any unoccupied homes that were not currently being fought over by locals. When he told the woman was he sought, she seemed skeptical due to their status as outsiders, as well as their desire to live away from the town. Apparently, only recluses wished to live so far away from the towns; even farmers commuted from the town to their fields every day. They all seemed wary of the woods. The woman was slow to trust Merlin, but he eventually won her over when he proved proficiency in the local language (and a slight faith spell- nothing too big as he didn’t want to pass out on the spot). 

While she didn’t lead him to the hut, she provided general directions. Arthur hadn’t said much that day since he warmed his tea, but Merlin decided to let him be, at least until they reached the hut. It was quite nice, really. The wooden door had rotted some and the roof had a few holes, but those were easy problems to fix. It was surrounded by a thick wood and the bubbling of a spring was audible over the rustling leaves and soft breeze. Merlin figured they could clear a small patch of trees to make a new door and any furniture that wasn’t contained inside. With the space created, they could have a garden or raise a few goats. There was even space to build Winnie a small stable. Overall, Merlin was pleased with what they had; optimistic even. He stood looking at it, a small smile growing on his face. 

“You seem cheerful,” Arthur remarked, coming up behind him. Merlin looked at Arthur, who wore an unreadable expression. 

“It’s not a bad place to hide out, frankly better than what I was expecting us to end up with. And you’ve slept in worse places, surely this ought to be alright even if it’s not up to your kingly standards, m’lord,” Merlin mocked. Arthur rolled his eyes and playfully shoved Merlin’s face away with his hand. 

“It’s not that. You just look more relaxed and hopeful since… well, than you have for a while,” Arthur said. He looked away as if he was embarrassed by the observation. Merlin felt himself blush a little, though he had no idea what triggered it. They stood in silence for a moment. “Well, what are you waiting for? Go make sure there are no assassins in there waiting to take me out,” ordered Arthur. 

“Of course.”

Chapter Text

A few weeks had passed since they moved in, and everyday, as Arthur watched Merlin gradually fix up the house and clear trees to build furniture, their situation sunk in more and more. While Arthur processed the logs into planks the way Merlin said, it dawned on him that he would likely use the table crafted from it for years. When he collected water and brought it back to the hut and thought about how there was no way for him to contact anybody from Camelot. When he saw Winnie wandering around without any harnesses on he realized they weren’t stopping to catch their breath; they lived here now and this was Arthur’s life. He was far away from all of the responsibilities that had plagued him for over 20 years, and the royal status he had donned that whole time was now meaningless. In addition, as much as he hated to admit it, he wasn’t of much help to Merlin. Between having little to no practical carpentry or farming skills and having recently been brought back from the dead, he couldn’t do much. Any time he did try to help, he would have to sit down to take a break after a few minutes of labor. It was humiliating; he was a gods damned king, and he was getting lightheaded chopping wood. Because of the inactivity, he was bored too. Bored, confused, and hurting. 

Merlin didn’t seem to be thriving either. He could do the labor necessary to keep them afloat, but it was clear from the bags under his eyes and his frequent pauses to stretch or shake out his limbs that he was struggling. It was especially bad when he needed to use magic to aid himself. Even if Merlin’s back was turned Arthur wasn’t able to see his eyes, it was always clear when Merlin used magic stronger than what was required to close a door or light a fire. His body would sag like he dropped a large weight and he would often pant for a few moments afterwards. One time he asked Merlin why he insisted on using magic when it was hurting him, albeit a bit harshly, and an argument ensued. Merlin reminded Arthur that he was drained from saving “his sorry excuse of a royal arse,” and Arthur can’t even recall what he bit back, but the end result was 10 minutes of petty insults and 2 days of silence. 

It wasn’t an isolated incident either. They fought at least once a week over the decision to hide, the distance from Camelot, Arthur’s inability to help in any meaningful way, Merlin’s trips to the village without alerting Arthur, when they were going back, and more. One of their latest fights was over Merlin asking Arthur to sweep the hut out, which eventually pushed Arthur into a rant about how he isn’t even a king anymore and was better off dying by the lake. Merlin listened to the rant with a blank look on his face and didn’t move or flinch as Arthur paced about. When Arthur finished, Merlin took a deep, slow breath with his eyes closed before turning around and walking out the door. It was the middle of the night and Arthur still had no idea where Merlin had gone, but when Merlin returned the next afternoon with large drapes, Arthur helped him hang them around each of their respective beds and personal items. Merlin spent the rest of the afternoon and the whole evening inside his makeshift bedroom. Arthur wordlessly swept debris out of the hut and completed the evening chores that Merlin usually did before retiring. 

That was about 5 days ago, and Merlin hadn’t brought it up, but he also hadn’t said much to Arthur beyond what was strictly necessary to get through the day. 

Arthur wondered whether he’d gone too far telling Merlin, the man who did gods know what to bring him back from the dead, that he was better off dead by the lake. He didn’t… not mean it. Wrapping his head around the notion of bringing him back to life only to whisk him away to the middle of nowhere instead of putting his ass back on the throne to sort through Morgana’s mess was almost as difficult as wrapping his head around the idea that his stupid, dorky best friend was the one strong enough to do it. What good was he out here with Merlin? His people needed help, and he was in the middle of nowhere turning soil so that it might be used for gardening. He was grateful to Merlin, at least he thought he was, but everything was so different that it was impossible to not feel resentful. 

At least they were somewhere nice. The weather was much the same as it was back home: generally cool, and cloudy often enough to allow for the sunny days to be fully appreciated. Today was one of the sunny days. The area he worked was uncovered by trees, so the warmth of the sun covered him like a blanket, and its warmth in combination with the work led to a thin layer of sweat building up on his face. Around him the sunlight shone through the tree leaves and the effect was similar to that of stained glass. The beams of light that broke through unobscured by the leaves were strikingly beautiful. Their chosen spot of refuge in the forest was the one thing about his current situation that he had no quarrels with Merlin about. It didn’t make everything ok, but the familiarity and comfort of the trees felt like a balm that dulled the ache. He glanced over at Merlin, who was on the roof repairing a spot of thatch that leaked a bit during heavy rain. The sun shone on him as well, though not as intensely. Despite his overall haggard appearance, Arthur could see Merlin was starting to gain back some of his lost muscle mass. Good. He was glad that Merlin was recovering his strength. 

Muscle mass was not the only thing Merlin was growing. His hair had gotten significantly longer, to the point that it mostly covered his ears. The beard had been trimmed but was still there. It was strange seeing his servant (could he even call him that anymore?) looking so vastly different. If he hadn’t seen the gradual transformation himself he wouldn’t believe that was Merlin sweating under the filtered sunlight. Wouldn’t believe that that was Merlin sliding off the roof and taking a swig of water and patting Winnie’s nose. Wouldn’t believe that was Merlin walking straight towards him- 

“I’m going into town. Need to get a few things, I’ll be back in time to start dinner,” he informed Arthur. As Merlin turned to go again, Arthur cried out. 

“Wait, I can come with you if you give me a minute to finish this patch,” he said, gesturing to the small area of dirt yet to be turned. Merlin looked down and sighed.

“I uh, I’d really rather-” 

“Please, Merlin. I’d like to join you,” Arthur pleaded. He wasn’t entirely sure what compelled him to make this request, but it felt right. He needed a break, and something inside him said that this could be a good time to actually talk to Merlin. Merlin sighed. 

“Fine. I’m going to change my shirt and grab my bag, be ready to go by then please.” A small victory, but a victory nonetheless. Arthur nodded and turned back to his task, ignoring his straining lungs and shoulder muscles. 

Ten minutes later, Arthur was changing his shirt inside while Merlin waited on the other side of the hut. Arthur’s back was turned for the most part, but he thought he saw Merlin watching him when he reached to grab the fresh shirt. 

“You ready? Let’s go,” Merlin called over impatiently. Arthur hurried over and they started their walk to town. 

The path they had to walk would go through the forest and across some farmers fields before spitting them into the town. The walk each way would take 1.5 to 2 hours. Arthur really hoped he made the right decision coming along. He coudln’t read Merlin’s face, so he had no idea if talking would be appropriate or if it would just lead to another fight. 

They were about twenty minutes into the walk and still neither of them had said a word. Arthur saw a thick branch on the ground about the length of a sword and picked it up. As he walked he picked off some extra twigs attached to it, and started swinging it in some basic drill patterns from knights training. Merlin looked over and chuckled, which made Arthur smile and flush a bit. He went ahead of Merlin by a few paces so he could try and practice some footwork. He was rusty, that was for sure, but the muscle memory was still there, even if it was nowhere near as smooth as it had been. It stung that his skills had deteriorated, but he felt relief at knowing they were still there. He wasn’t a completely different person. 

“Oi, dollophead!” Arthur turned around to face Merlin, who held a large stick as well. Merlin had received basic sword training, though he had never really shown any interest in learning more, despite Arthur’s insistence. Of course, in hindsight it made sense. But as a result, Arthur knew that Merlin was proper shit when it came to fighting. He snorted. 

“Who art thou who calls his superior a ‘dollophead?’” he asked with fake offense, brandishing his makeshift weapon. Merlin smiled and started walking around him. Arthur mimicked his movements, and they circled each other as Merlin called out in response. 

“I am he who wishes to challenge thee to a duel. I may not be the masterful stick-man I have heard you to be, but I wish to issue my challenge regardless.” 

“If you have heard of my mastery you must know you stand no chance. I grant you this opportunity to rescind your challenge and be spared your life,” Arthur countered. Merlin grinned widely. 

“To whose benefit is this ‘opportunity’ meant to be? I think you try to hide your fear of the fight behind the guise of mercy and kindness.” Arthur stopped his circling. Merlin chuckled and Arthur gripped the branch. 

“So be it, stranger. You refuse the mercy granted, and now you shall face the wrath of my branch!” Arthur spun the stick and Merlin moved to block the incoming strike. Both men smiled as they fought. Merlin was still the weaker fighter, but he was certainly holding his own. He blocked Arthur’s attacks for a few minutes and managed to land a solid thwack on Arthur’s left thigh. Merlin cried out in celebration before Arthur swept his legs out from under him and pointed the end of the stick at his throat. Merlin dropped his branch and held his hands up in surrender. His chest was heaving and Arthur watched his blue eyes travel up the branch aimed at him, stopping once they reached Arthur’s own eyes. Merlin smiled and his heart skipped a beat. Maybe he shouldn’t have exerted himself so much. 

“ I,” he panted, “I still got a hit in.” Arthur rolled his eyes and held a hand out. Merlin took it and heaved up to his feet. 

“Yeah,” Arthur conceded. “But I still won.” 

“Of course you did, m’lord,” Merlin said in a cool, light tone. He smiled softly and between the words, smile, and eye contact, Arthur felt his stomach twist. Before he could open his mouth to say something in response, Merlin had turned away and started walking back towards the town. Arthur stood dumbfounded for a minute and watched Merlin walk away, aware of the twist still present in his stomach and the blush slowly fading from his face. He jogged after him and they walked in silence the rest of the way. The silence between them was different this time, though. Less strained and irritating, more peaceful and natural. 

Once in town, Arthur felt… not uneasy per say, but he was certainly aware of how much he depended on Merlin here. Largely because Merlin was more or less proficient in the local language, and Arthur could only stand behind him and rock on his feet while Merlin negotiated prices. At one point, the woman Merlin was chatting with looked past Merlin towards Arthur, looked him up and down and smirked at Merlin. Merlin looked back with a slightly shocked and embarrassed look on his face, which made Arthur tense up. When Merlin looked back and kept talking to her, Arthur took a step closer to Merlin and discretely whacked his arm a few times, to which Merlin responded with a backwards hit to the stomach without breaking eye contact with the woman. Arthur rolled his eyes and took a step back, making a mental note to later pry the conversation out of Merlin word by word. 

Three stops later and they were on their way back home, bags full of extra food and some tools they were lacking, which they would have to return when they were done using them. When asked about the conversation with the woman, Merlin stuttered something about it not translating well but essentially she inquired as to his marital status. He avoided eye contact and didn’t elaborate, so Arthur just snorted at Merlin’s discomfort and dropped it. 

As they passed the fields between the town and the forest, Arthur spotted Merlin fidgeting out of the corner of his eye. He watched subtly, and when Merlin’s nervous energy still hadn’t subsided by the time they reached the edge of the woods, Arthur suggested they sit down and take a break. His shoulder with the bag ached and he could use a chance to catch his breath anyway. Merlin looked tired too, and though he initially tried to protest, he gave in when his bags were set down, relieving his back of the extra weight it wasn’t fit to hold. They slumped on the trunk of a fallen aspen tree, and Merlin took off one of his boots to empty some earth that had found its way inside. Arthur watched, and when the boot was on both men looked towards the sun, whose light painted the fields before them as it creeped towards the horizon. They still had plenty of time to make it home before dark, but it would certainly be dinner time when they did make it back. Arthur decided this was as good a time as any to breach the subject. 

“Alright, out with it. What’s got you all fidgety?” He asked, eyes still on the horizon. Merlin exhaled but didn’t say anything. Arthur looked over to his friend, whose eyes glanced to meet his own before he buried his face in his own hands. Arthur lifted his hand momentarily to place it on Merlin’s shoulder, but he changed his mind and placed it back in his lap, looking down at the moss covering the rocks and dirt on the ground. 

“I was warned, y’know. That you’d resent it. That you’d resent me . But I was desparate and distraught and I couldn’t-” Merlin stammered before Arthur cut him off. 

“Woah woah woah, what are you going on about?” he asked, turning his body to face Merlin. Merlin swallowed and his eyes shifted up to Arthur’s face. 

“Resurecting you. The Lady of the Lake warned me that people brought back often resent those who bring them back, and I ignored her.” Arthur said nothing as he took in the information. Merlin looked ahead again and started tugging on the scarf around his neck. Arthur almost didn’t hear when he murmured, “Did you mean it? The other day when you said you’d have been better off dying by the lake.” 

The question, when he registered it, caught Arthur off guard. He shifted again so he was facing the sun and chewed on his lip as he pondered his response. 

“I… was angry. Still am, I suppose. But not with your decision. More the fact that I’m stuck here, far away, and helpless. I feel so damn weak. I get tired easily, the living situation is… different than what I’m used to,” he paused, looking over at Merlin, who listened with an unreadable expression. Arthur sighed. “It’s just all so different, and I miss knowing who I am and what I’m supposed to do. As to whether or not I really meant it, I don’t know, Merlin. But I’m here now, so I might as well work with what I’ve got.” Arthur glanced at Merlin with a sly smile, and injected his tone with a healthy dose of playfulness. “And what I’ve got is the world’s most useless and annoying warlock and a horse.” Merlin looked aghast, but his eyes gave away the incincerity. 

“‘ Useless?’ I brought your regal ass back to life. Name one other servant with a more useful skill set,” Merlin jokes, rising to his feet and offering Arthur his hand. Arthur took it. 

“I don’t know, George seemed to be a man with many talents. I bet he could do it.” At this Merlin scoffed and lightly punched Arthur’s arm and they both laughed as they picked up the bags again. “C’mon. Let’s go home.” 

“Even though ‘home’ only has an annoying sorcerer and a horse?” 

“As embarrassing as it is, I’m rather fond of the horse,” Arthur admitted. “The sorcerer isn’t half bad either, even if he is annoying.” Merlin rolled his eyes and smiled, and they left to finish their walk back to their house. 

Chapter Text

Merlin sat in a clearing in the trees with his legs crossed and his back straight. His fingertips pressed into the dirt on either side of him as he closed his eyes and breathed. The sky was clear for now, though some clouds were rolling in from the west and they would likely be upon them by the end of the day. The air was cool but not uncomfortable, and he could hear Arthur grunting and hitting a tree with the wooden sword he carved to practice with. 

He had been struggling with certain spells that usually would come easily to him. Instead of getting frustrated like he usually would, he decided to walk farther into the woods to try and do something that always came as naturally as breathing: connecting with the woods around him. He meant to go alone, but when Arthur wordlessly got up from what he was doing outside and followed him out into the woods, he decided not to send him back. Normally he’d be the one tailing Arthur, he mused, and it was nice seeing him come along without even knowing where Merlin was going. After they walked out about 10 minutes and found the clearing, Merlin told Arthur he could stay near, but that he would need some space. 

Right now Merlin was trying to clear his mind and sink his mind into the ground. The first time he’d done this it was by accident. He was a young teen and had gotten into a petty argument with William and ran off. Once Merlin was sure he was alone, he sat down next to a creek and was using magic to throw rocks into the water. After some steam was blown off, he took his shoes off and sank his feet into the cold mud and leaned against a small tree that grew on the edge of the water and closed his eyes to cool off. The mud slid between his toes and over the sides of his feet and he shivered. His mind was cleared of the fight, and all he could focus on was the water lapping over the top of his feet and his ankles, the bark digging into his back, and the pebbles under his finger tips. He relaxed into the feeling, and after a few deep breaths he realized he could see the roots of the tree he leaned against. He could feel the leaves brushing together in the wind at the top of the tree. Networks of fungi laced through the roots of the grass and bushes behind him, and everything seemed to breathe as one. At the time, Merlin had startled at the feeling and was unable to reciprocate it again when he tried. As he’s gotten older, he usually used it as a grounding mechanism. Occasionally he used it to find people or things he was looking for, but often in those situations he was too wound up to focus enough to pull it off. This trick was more to do relaxing and trusting oneself than harnessing magic. 

Relaxing was easier said than done. 

He tried adjusting his position on the ground, moving twigs and rocks out from underneath him, taking his jacket off, putting it back on, but he couldn’t do it. The next thwack against a tree off to his left made him realize what was wrong. 

“Oi, Arthur! Think you could hit that tree a little quieter?” he called out. 

“What was that?” 

“Make less noise!” 

Arthur still seemed unable to hear, and he started walking towards Merlin. Great. That ought to help him focus. He dropped his head into his hand and pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment before looking up. 

“What’re you on about, Merlin?” 

“I just- it was hard to focus with you hitting the trees and I was wondering if you could be quieter,” he admitted as Arthur moved in front of him. 

“Oh, no worries, I was finishing the exercise I was doing so I’ll just call it quits and lay down here while you do your thing,” Arthur said as he dropped the sword and collapsed on the ground about a yard in front of Merlin. 

“I- ok that’s… that’s fine I suppose,” Merlin muttered. Things had been less tense between them over the last week since they went to town together. A lot less tense, actually. But it still felt weird practicing magic like this in front of the man. Arthur lay on his back and looked at the clouds moving, but Merlin caught him sneaking side glances. Merlin sighed and closed his eyes as he rubbed his temples a moment before resuming his previous position. Deep breath in, and- 

“What’re you doing, anyway? Magic?” 

-sharp exhale. 

“Yep,” Merlin said, popping the p and not opening his eyes. This was fine. Deep breath in-

“What kind of magic?” Damn it to hell. Merlin opened his eyes and looked at Arthur, who was now sitting up and had a look of genuine curiosity on his face as he eyed Merlin. 

“I’m trying to feel the forest around us,” he answered. The corner of Arthur’s mouth ticked up. 

“Your entire arse is in the mud, that not enough?” Arthur joked, though there was no real mockery in it. The comment surprised Merlin and he let out a short laugh, which made Arthur smile. When Merlin didn’t answer, Arthur raised his eyebrows. 

“Oh, uh, not quite. It’s… hard to explain,” he said. Arthur nodded his head for Merlin to continue. He swallowed and picked at a blade of grass. “Magic wise, it’s an easy trick. The hardest part is blocking every thought out and really being present and sort of… ‘reaching down’ into the ground, so to say.” Merlin looked to Arthur, who looked a little confused but gestured for him to continue. “When I’m able to reach that feeling of calm and peace, I can see and feel everything in the forest. I can feel the roots digging down, the water running in a stream at the bottom of a hill, snakes moving under a bush, everything. It feels like everything around me is one entity” 

The look on Arthur’s face was nothing short of awe and wonder. It made Merlin bite the inside of his cheek and look at the bird flying off to his right, but even when he looked away he could still feel it. He almost missed what Arthur muttered. 

“You’re unbelievably incredible, Merlin.” Merlin’s eyes snapped to Arthur’s, whose eyes immediately snapped away in return. They both sat for a moment feeling warmer than they had a minute ago. 

“Uh… thanks,” Merlin cleared his throat. “But, yeah. The noise was a bit much.” 

“Of course. I’ll stop asking questions now so you can do your… seeing thing.” Merlin nodded and gave him a small smile before closing his eyes. 

Merlin took a deep breath and placed his hands on the ground again. He focused on his “arse in the mud” as Arthur said. He listened to the wind and to the birds, trying to focus on the nature around him. 

Just under it all, he could hear Arthur breathing and picking at the grass, and his focus was completely thrown off. He tried a few more times, but eventually dropped his head and groaned in annoyance. 

“What’s wrong, Merls?” 

“I can’t do it,” he muttered back. 

“What? That’s absurd, of course you ca-” 

“No, Arthur, it’s not working! You don’t get it, this was supposed to be easy and I can’t even do this! Maybe I need more time, but it feels like I’ve taken so much already. I should be ready! I should be!” 

Arthur sighed in response and scooted closer to Merlin. “You are ready, you’re just adding obstacles that aren’t even there.” 

Merlin sniffed and looked up. “Huh?” 

“You said it yourself, this has next to nothing to do with magic and more to do with concentration. You look borderline constipated sitting there.” Merlin opened his mouth to protest but promptly closed it when Arthur placed his hand on the side of his face. “You can do it, Merlin, just relax and let yourself see.” Arthur must have realised where his hand was, because he removed it and flicked Merlin’s forehead. “Now look at your nature,” he commanded as he scooted back a little to give him space. Merlin felt dazed from the kind words for a moment before it clicked that Arthur was right; he had been trying to force it. 

This time when Merlin closed his eyes, he let his back slouch the tiniest bit. His head bowed down about halfway. His palms were in the dirt instead of just his fingertips, and he felt the coolness of the dirt seep through his pants. He took a deep breath and released the tension in his body with his exhale. He listened to everything around him. He heard the wind blowing through the trees, the birds calling, some distant thunder, and Arthur. Instead of flinching away and getting frustrated at the sound, he allowed the sound of Arthur’s breaths and snaps of the grass he picked at to join the cacophony of soft sounds filling the air. After all, everything living breathed as one when he saw the world through this lens, so why shouldn’t he include Arthur’s presense in his journey to that sight? 

With his eyes still closed, Merlin first became aware of the grass roots around him. Then he looked for the worms digging around. He felt the wind picking up and brushing the grass around them. He smiled at the familiar feeling. Then he noticed Arthur. It was fascinating seeing him in this way. He’d never allowed himself to be physically near other people when doing this before, so the amount of detail he was able to pick up was fascinating. He could not only hear but feel his breathing, the way air sucked into his lungs and blew out warm and swirling around him. He could feel his heartbeat through the ground. He couldn’t see the details of his face, but he could see the warmth of his presence on the ground in front of him, which was beautiful in its own right. 

Merlin looked further around them into the woods. He could see the eggs the bird off to the right had in a nearby tree. He saw the roots of the old trees twisting among each other, connected by webs of myselium. A few small mammals chased each other in the brush and he felt the pounding of their feet on the ground. As he found one new thing five others seemed to appear as well. They were all connected, and everything breathed as one. He did it. He was one with everything and he did it. 

In the trees behind them, he felt drops of cold rain hitting the leaves and dripping down. He knew they should go if they didn’t want to get caught in it, but he allowed himself a few more moments to feel the wholeness. His attention turned back to Arthur, who he could tell was leaning forward and looking at him. He wished he could see what Arthur was thinking. He wished even more that he could show Arthur what he was seeing. 

With a smile, Merlin opened his eyes and they met Arthur’s. They were close enough that when Merlin jumped forward, he landed in Arthur’s arms and hugged him. 

“Gods, Arthur, you were right! I did it! I saw everything again and it was better than before and Gods I wish I knew a way to show you,” he cried. He was pleasantly surprised when Arthur hugged him back. They stayed like that for a moment before Merlin pulled away. “ Bollocks , we’ve got to go, the rain is almost here.” 

As Merlin got to his feet, he heard Arthur sputter something. He turned with a polite “Hmm?” and offered Arthur his hand, which he took. 

“I said the ground beneath you was glowing softly. It looked like you were sitting on a sheer gold blanket,” Arthur repeated. Merlin felt himself blush at the observation. He still got a weird uncomfortable feeling whenever Arthur mentioned how he looked when performing magic, even if the observation was nice. It felt weird to be seen like that, and even weirder to have Arthur talk about it. 

The rain started coming down heavy about halfway back to the house. They ran the rest of the way, but they were still soaked by the time their house came back into view. Their house. The single house the two of them shared, Merlin thought before waving it away. They’d lived together for about two months now, he didn’t know why his brain felt the need to remind him like that. 

They kicked their boots off as they stepped onto the wooden floor. 

“You weren’t kidding when you said the rain was coming,” Arthur remarked as he slid his arms into his soaked shirt. 

“I never kid,” Merlin replied in a serious tone while making dead eye contact with Arthur. They held that eye contact for a second before Arthur snorted and flicked his shirt off and threw it in Merlin’s face. The shirt smelled like wood, dirt, and Arthur. He took it off and threw it back at Arthur, who caught it laughing. Merlin suddenly felt brave and confident. He took off his soaked shirt and held it in front of him. 

“Arthur, let’s make a deal. I’m going to throw this-” he held the dripping shirt up for emphasis “-wet shirt at you, and if it’s dry as you catch it, you’re in charge of cleaning Winnie’s stable for the next week,” he proposed. Arthur took a second to take the shirt in and smiled. 

“If I catch it and it’s dry, you say?” Arthur confirmed. Merlin nodded. “Very well then.” 

Merlin looked at the shirt and shook it slightly while he whispered a few words under his breath, and he chucked the newly dry shirt at Arthur, who sidestepped the throw without looking away from Merlin with a sly grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes as he looked him over. Merlin looked back and suddenly felt exposed. 

“Uh, sorry, still not used to the eye thing,” Arthur said bashfully. He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand and looked at the dry shirt on the floor. 

“Is that why you didn’t catch the shirt?” Merlin asked, walking over to pick it up. Arthur’s eyes followed him. 

“No, I didn’t catch it because I didn’t want to lose. You said if I caught it dry. There were two conditions, one of which was not met. Have fun with the stables this week.” Arthur patted Merlin’s shoulder and walked past him as Merlin bent down to pick up the shirt and put it back on. Arthur’s wet shirt was on the chair next to him. He smiled and picked it up. 

“Hey, clotpole!” 

“Hm?” Arthur hummed as a dry shirt hit him in the face. He picked it up and looked at the shirt then at Merlin. 

“You lost.” 

_._._

After the rain died down a bit, Merlin went out front to sit on their bench with a small sharp knife and a dusty mirror. He wanted to get rid of his beard. 

He straddled the bench with the mirror laying down flat in front of him and leaned over to see himself. He held the knife up to his left cheekbone and started to cut the hair with the grain to trim it down. As hair fell he felt the wind hitting his face for the first time in weeks. It was as cold as it was refreshing. 

It wasn’t long before his face was bare. He picked up the mirror and looked his face over for any spots he missed. Content, he stood up right as Arthur was coming out. Arthur halted when he saw Merlin’s face, staring with an unreadable expression. Merlin laughed. 

“It’s just a beard, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

Arthur took his sweet time before finally opening his mouth. 

“I liked the beard, but I do think I missed your stupid face.”

Chapter Text

Arthur’s feet were cold on the smooth wood floor. He looked up and saw the faint mid morning light seeping through the windows lining the throne room. He looked around, scanning for another soul present in the room. His eyes landed on Gwen, sitting alone on the throne at the end of the hall. He wasn’t close enough to get a good look at her, but she looked worn. Her curls strayed from her hairdo, and she was nervously picking at the hem of a pattern on her dress with one hand, the other rubbing her temples as she leaned on one arm of the throne. Arthur’s heart sunk into his stomach. He tried to move closer to her, but his legs felt like they were moving through honey. His movements were thick and slow, and he only made it halfway before he heard a voice calling from behind him. Gwen’s head shot up, and Arthur could faintly make out deep eye bags carved into her beautiful face. He registered Leon’s voice, but all he could do was look at how tired Gwen seemed. 

“Your majesty, the bandits have been apprehended. They will stand trial tomorrow,” he said. Gwen seemed to give a relieved sigh. Leon reached the throne and gave a deep bow. 

“Thank you, Leon. Any updates on the status of Morgana’s agents in the South?” Gwen smoothed the skirt of her dress and sat up straighter, looking past Arthur and into Leon’s eyes. 

“My scout should be returning this afternoon with news. I anticipate they are still desperate for supplies and weapons. As soon as I receive intel on the exact situation I will dispatch a group of knights to attend to the matter.” 

“Please be sure to be conservative with the number of men you send, a few villages to the north still need aid in rebuilding the damaged granaries from last month's assaults. I’ll also need a contingent of guards when I travel to negotiate the alliance treaty with the Five Kingdoms.” 

“Yes ma’am,” Leon responded. He paused for a minute, and looked almost unsure of himself before continuing. “If I may, have you slept, your majesty?” 

“I’ve slept enough. I have a meeting with the Council at noon. Some dolt is suggesting that Camelot redouble its efforts in its ban against magic after Morgana. Thank the gods that the rest vehemently disagree, but their disagreement is on the basis of resources rather than a desire to protect magic users.” Gwen closed her eyes and set her face in her hands. Leon approached her and placed a hand on her shoulder, and she leaned into his touch. 

“I just wonder,” Gwen continued, “if things could have been different. If Morgana and Camelot’s fate could have been different.” 

“How do you mean, highness?” Leon asked curiously. 

“If all of this could have been avoided. If magic users had been left to their own devices, could Morgana have stayed? Could Merlin and Arthur still be here?” her voice cracked at the mention of their names, and Arthur tried to touch Gwen. His hand only passed through her and Arthur felt his throat constrict at his helplessness. 

“I think that line of thinking is dangerous. The past cannot be changed. All we can do is make the present and future as safe as we can. Do you still plan to present your proposal for the legalization of magic?” Gwen laughed in response. 

“I almost wonder if I should wait for that piece of work to pass to the next world before I do so. It can’t be long now, he’s nearly ancient and I heard he’s come down with a cough.” Leon and Gwen shared a short chuckle before she continued. “I’m scared. They already barely respect me, what with my background and lack of formal training.” 

“Should I come with you? If only to deter any overt comments at your expense?” Leon offered readily. Gwen shook her head. 

“No, thank you. I can handle it.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I need to do it eventually, and sooner is better than later. Sooner gives them the opportunity to wrap their thick skulls around the notion that the persecution of a whole group of people with no rational basis is not what this kingdom should stand for.” Arthur smiled at this. He had chosen well when he picked Gwen to rule beside him. Still, his heart ached for the ongoing stress and pain she was subjected to. 

“Thank you, Leon.” 

“For what, Gwen?” 

“For being here. It hasn’t been easy since Arthur… passed. I don’t know how he did it. I miss him, but having you here has made it more bearable. So thank you.” Leon nodded and stood. He had kneeled next to Gwen at some point during their conversation. 

“It’s been an honor, highness.” He turned to leave before stopping and saying, “I miss him too.” 

– - –

Arthur woke with a start, shirt damp with sweat. The sun was only just rising, and Merlin was still laying in bed, chest rising and falling slowly. He couldn’t explain why, but the sight made him feel calmer. He stared at Merlin, whose limbs were wild; one arm over his head and the other across his chest, and one foot dangled over the side of his tiny bed. His mouth was cracked open slightly, and Arthur could just see his top two teeth. His mouth melted into a smile at the sight. Arthur’s eyes drifted down and he noticed that Merlin’s shirt had wandered up a bit, exposing a sliver of Merlin’s midriff. Merlin had recently started to regain some of his lost muscle mass, and the fingers on Arthur’s right hand twitched as he wondered what it would feel like under his hand.. 

Arthur sat up in bed abruptly. What was he thinking? Merlin was- no. Clearly Arthur just needed to wake up more. He got up and pulled his boots on and stalked outside, trying not to disturb the man across the room. He stepped outside and breathed in the misty air. Winnie was drinking water in her trough. It was running low, so Arthur grabbed two buckets and started for a nearby creek. 

The sun was still low on the horizon and the grass he passed through brushed his legs until he reached the waters edge. As he filled the buckets, he started to think about the dream. It was the first one since Merlin initially brought him back, and he and Gwen had decided it would be best to get Arthur away from Camelot. He wanted to trust his old partner and best friend, but everything in him screamed to go back. 

Not wanting to go back inside, he decided to proactively chop some firewood. Arthur liked the rhythmic chore, it reminded him of sparring in a way. The repetition helped release the tension he was carrying from the dream, though he could still see Gwen’s stress painted on her face in his head. 

Guilt. That was what he was feeling. Guilt over not being strong enough to pull through and stay in Camelot and fix its problems himself. For leaving his mess to Gwen and Leon. He had always known being a king would be all consuming, the fate of thousands dependent on him and his word. Arthur just thought he’d be capable of carrying that burden forever, until the day came where he would pass it on to a son that never came to be. He thought he would rule with pride and honor for decades, bettering the lives of everyone around him to the best of his abilities. 

He never thought he’d hide away somewhere and completely forget about his obligations. 

That was the core of it; not only had he been too weak to stay and see his duties through, but he’d also somehow been so engrossed doing the most mundane work with Merlin of all people, that the stress of running a kingdom melted away until he almost forgot about his old life altogether. 

With that thought he swung the axe down so hard that he cracked the larger stump used as a base to chop other wood on. 

“Damn, highness, what’d the stump do to you?” 

Arthur turned around quickly to see Merlin leaning on the doorframe looking at him with his head cocked to the side. A small smile played on his mouth and a flicker of concern flashed his eyes. For all of their bickering, Merlin and Arthur had been close friends for over a decade now, and Merlin could read Arthur unfortunately well. Arthur couldn’t think of a comeback so he just rolled his eyes and turned back around and stuck the axe into the stump before collecting all of the freshly chopped wood into a neat pile. Merlin wordlessly walked over and helped him. 

“You alright?” Merlin asked as they finished stacking. Arthur sighed and lied, saying all was fine. Merlin stared for another moment but didn’t press the issue further. Instead, Merlin went inside and grabbed a large sack that they used to haul laundry. “It’s going to be a warm one today. Want to come with me while I do laundry?” 

Arthur figured that he could probably use a rinse off anyway so he agreed, and he grabbed Winnie from her stable. She would probably enjoy some water if it was really going to be warm like Merlin said. As they walked down to the creek Merlin talked about his visit to town the previous day. Arthur half listened as Merlin described the encounters he had with various shopkeepers, a few kids who needed help getting a toy off of a roof, and a duck that had chased him. The duck story made him laugh and almost forget about his dream, which afterwards only prompted a fresh wave of guilt. 

Upon reaching the water Merlin kicked off his shoes and rolled up his pants before stepping in with the bag of clothes. Arthur stood upstream with Winnie, who chewed on the grass surrounding the bank. 

“The water is nice,” Merlin said, not looking up. The heat was starting to increase as the sun rose higher into the cloudless sky. Arthur decided to get over himself for a while and kicked off his shoes, rolled up his pants, took off his shirt, and stepped into the cool water. Merlin was right, it was nice. The water was clear and he could see small fish circling his ankles curiously as his toes dug into the wet soil. Merlin looked up and smiled before tossing a sopping wet shirt at him, hitting him square in the chest. 

“Ugh, Merlin,” Arthur complained as he peeled it off and water dripped down his chest and soaked into his pants. Merlin snickered. Arthur kicked water at his face and Merlin looked at him aghast as water dripped from his hair and shirt. 

“Why you royal arse ,” he said standing up, abandoning his washing job. 

“You started it,” Arthur said, taking a step back. 

“YoU stArtEd iT,” Merlin mocked back. “What are we, twelve?” He kicked water at Arthur, fully soaking his pants now. 

“You dare, ” Arthur challenged with a watery kick back, “to mock your king ?” Arthur bent down and splashed at Merlin again with his hand. 

“Yeah, and I’d do it again,” Merlin said with a grin. He squatted and used both hands to splash Arthur. The two of them kicked water at each other and laughed. Winnie went further upstream to avoid the chaos but stayed within sight. Merlin threw clothes at him and Arthur dodged. Arthur tried to make his way closer to Merlin so he could tackle him in the water, but Merlin seemed to notice what he was doing. He moved back, maintaining their distance. Arthur jumped and managed to grab Merlin’s arm, pulling him down with him. The two collapsed in the water, limbs tangled and slippery. 

They came up for air laughing. “Got ya,” Arthur smirked, feeling victorious. Merlin looked shocked for a second before a mischievous smile melted onto his face. 

“Did you, now?” Arthur didn’t have time to question what his friend was on about before his eyes turned a bright gold and he felt his stomach drop. He heard water moving and he looked behind him to see a sphere of water the size of his torso bubble up out of the water, into the air, before dropping onto his head with a cold splash. When Arthur opened his eyes again, Merlin’s were as blue as the water and he was laughing nervously. 

“Bloody cheater…” Arthur muttered with zero malice. He was smiling, and for the first time all day he wasn’t thinking about Gwen and Camelot, only the happy idiot soaking wet in front of him.