Chapter Text
Just like every night before, and every other night that Merlin expected to come, the hallways were dark after a long night of saving the unknowing prince’s life. The torches that lined the walls of the castle were beginning to burn out and weren’t due to be relit for another half an hour, the guard rotation wasn’t going to change over for a while, so Merlin had plenty of time to drag himself back to his room and collapse into his bed.
It sounded like a wonderful idea in his head.
But then something caught his eye. He stopped to look outside a great open window that didn’t hold great panes of glass, instead exposed to the night air, one of many that were part of the castle’s architecture. He leaned against its ledge and looked up at the sky.
The moon was large and bright, unlike any other night that Merlin had ever seen it. It wasn’t obscured by clouds or trees overhead, stars dotted the sky and were so dazzling: constellations as stories littered a world above his own. Merlin often found himself wondering what it would be like to live in a world like that; to be free and unbound by his own humane laws and morals, to be loved because of the beauty he can provide and the light he gives. He wasn’t a star, or any sort of constellation; he is the dark side of the moon, always there, still with purpose but not seen.
Oh how he begged to be the light side of the moon, he wanted to reflect the light in which the sun provided, he wanted to be seen. He wanted to be loved.
Moonlight shone over the treetops of the forest and bathed the houses in the lower towns in an enchanting glow, and it made Merlin wonder: why does he stay, why does he willingly remain in the dark?
For a prophecy that would take years to fulfil? After two years of living in Camelot, Merlin had pushed the prophecy out of his mind. Why does he keep protecting Arthur, knowing that there was a massive chance that the Prince could turn him in to the King if he knew the truth? And for the wounds and scars he gains with each night of sneaking out to protect Arthur?
Why does he risk so much?
Deep down he knew.
He knew why he stayed. Why he was a shadow. Why he was likely to never be the bright side of the moon. Why he was content with it all as it was.
A feeling curled inside of his chest, leaching through his body and mind and soul. He had never felt something so honest and raw in all his life. Previous instances could barely compare to the burning inside of him, the empty ache and screaming desire that he used to call loneliness had changed into something new and old. He recognised this feeling. He was familiar with it. He had called it his friend every morning as he threw open the curtains, his companion on dangerous nights, and his ally when he was desperate.
People often spoke of this feeling, how intense and strong it could be. It made him doubt if they were speaking the truth, or if they had ever felt its strength to the degree that he was facing. Did they know that it was like for such a feeling to consume his mind, to take hold of him with such a feat that no magic could ever accomplish, for their chests to become heavy and unbearable?
Did they know?
Gaius had once said that to ease one's pain you must gain mental control over it, to imagine how it is affecting your body. Merlin imagined delicate lines threading through his veins and muscles like threads on a tapestry, coiling in massive knots and clumps in his head and chest. Twines of string gathering in the hole of his heart, tightening around his lungs and throat, seizing his mind like a delirious fever. He could visualise those strings spreading from his body, being strung through corridors, being draped over furniture in well known rooms, drifting in the wind at each place that held some significant importance.
Finally, he could see that imagined string. He could see what it really meant. He never knew that after all these years of carrying this feeling along with the burden of destiny he would be able to name it.
He was unwillingly, dreadfully and irrevocably in love.
And the very person those presumed strings all came from and lead to; his name, his image, his laugh and smile, his pratishness and irritating nature - every part of him - was assaulting Merlin’s mind, filling each crevice of his soul, capturing and holding every piece of his attention.
It made him want to laugh and scream and cry.
His knees weakened and he fell to the floor, burying his face in his arms, the moonlight pouring through the spaces which his arms didn’t occupy. He peaked up at the sky and was reminded of a book he had read, a story from overseas, tales of gods from another land; a mortal lover to an immortal god was dying, the god had turned their partner into a constellation, allowing their lover to rest and be rightfully adored by all.
The immortal god was able to continuously watch their lover rise and fall through the sky each night, but because of their life and their death, they couldn’t reunite.
Many of the stories in that book were similar. Some were kinder, some were cruller, and others were painful in too many aspects. For a while, it was Merlin’s guilty pleasure, as if to say ‘My life is nowhere near as tragic, my life is better than these stories'.
He was wrong. His life was so much worse with each passing day. His life was slowly following these tragedies. Suffice to say, Merlin knew he was doomed.
Entirely slipping to the floor, leaning his back against the wall, Merlin looked through watering eyes as the moonlight mixed in with the warm hue of the dying torches on the opposite wall. Oh, how he was hopeless.
It was a sardonic, cruel and meticulous fate which made Merlin want to believe that his great goddess wasn’t real, that his goddess would never try to instil such pain into his life, more than she already has.
He breathed in, and then out. He breathed and tried to ignore how his chest was tightening at the unconscious thought of him. Of those stupid blue eyes, his goldsmith crafted hair, his barking laugh and devilish smirk, that cursed mouth that spoke double edged words, and those small little moments which Merlin cherished.
He wanted to kill Arthur.
He wanted to erase this feeling that bled through his body with each new memory, he wanted the shudder that accompanied his lungs to disappear, and he wanted the normality of this feeling to not be there.
It should have been sudden. It should have taken days, if not weeks, to accept this realisation. It shouldn’t have been this easy to understand. Except, as the days passed, bleeding together and turning into weeks and then months, he grew to understand that this feeling wasn’t going anywhere. It was there in every moment. It had become a part of him.
Without this feeling, no one would recognise him. He would be an entirely different person.
And gods, that thought hurt.
Pain spiked through him with each hidden lingering gaze he cast in Arthur’s direction. It felt as though almost every word felt like a lie. Every moment they spent together, Merlin was agonising over whether to confess his magic or his feelings. One always led back to the other, going back and forth in dreadful circles like ravenous wolves.
So, just as he did with his magic, Merlin hid his feelings from Arthur. Pretending with a shuddering breath that they were normal. Just Merlin and Arthur. Arthur and Merlin. The Prince and his manservant. That they were nothing more than friends.
That was all they could be after all.
And he was okay with that. He was perfectly content. No one knew, and that was okay.
Merlin didn’t have to tell anyone. No one was entitled to his thoughts and feelings, but he wanted Arthur to feel entitled to them.
The worst part was that he had no one to tell these desires to, so he would indulge in the little moments he was given by Gaius to go out foraging. He would drag his feet through the forest floor, guided by a path of his own magic, whispering little confessions that could never be heard to the forest. Trees and fauna would indulge in his wishes, animals would be at ease with the sound of his longing heart, whatever magical creature or spirit that were listening would pity the one sided love.
As the years passed, Merlin found himself often escaping to the forest. Speaking under his breath to no one and everything about each small instance that Arthur decided to unknowingly pull at his heart.
The forest grew to learn that Merlin’s hands felt as if they were burning each time that their bare skin grazed against each other when he helped the Prince Regent into and out of his clothes. How he stole glances at Arthur when no one was looking at every chance he got. How their shared looks at each other managed to convey thousands of conversations and how special he felt because of them. How every night Merlin was terrified of losing Arthur to someone's blade or vial of poison. How he hoped each feat of magic he performed to keep those meaning harm to Arthur was powerful enough for them to be frightened and never come back.
The forest was told of every moment that Merlin stared at Arthur, and how ridiculous it was that no one had noticed. That no one thought to consider that Merlin had feelings for the Prince.
Perhaps he was just good at acting, or lying, or people were extremely blind; but no one looked deeper into Merlin. Not for magic or for love. Not even Arthur. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe.
But he sometimes wished that they saw everything for what it was: an act of devotion.
He wished that Gaius or Lancelot noticed - even for a second - that there was a reason deeper than some belief in an ancient prophecy. But they didn’t, no one did.
It wasn’t entirely their fault, after all of these years Merlin hadn’t really changed that much. There hadn’t even been a period of time in which Merlin changed with his recognition of love, because he had always been in love. He couldn’t call them blind when they were never even given an indication to see. They were used to how he acted around and with the Prince. He just wished that they viewed him less as a loyal believer that was clinging onto purpose for a prophecy that mightn’t even be real.
And yet they’ve seen him countlessly charging into battle with no armour, they would think him a reckless idiot but he wished that they knew his desperation to see his Prince to the other side of a battle - the winning side. Really, there was no difference to either side; whether he did it all out of love or belief. Because either way he was fighting to keep Arthur alive and he hated the thought of a world without Arthur in it.
It didn’t matter to him what people thought drove him to do what he did; he knew why, and he was okay with it. He knew why he went after assassins and mercenaries and spies and coup creating nobles and wrathful sorcerers.
Merlin knew that Arthur’s death would leave an unfillable hole inside of him, it would permanently destroy him to the point of no recovery. Those infuriating threads had woven too much into his being, that any departure of Arthur’s would rip them out and tear Merlin apart.
At that point, Merlin knew he was screwed because loving Arthur had become too much a part of him. He thought that if he was shown his younger self, before he knew of love and longing, he wouldn't even recognise himself, thinking instead of a stranger.
Loving Arthur had become who he was, only known to himself. He was slowly losing himself to himself, winding up his being in half truths and hidden secrets, Merlin felt like he was drowning but somehow after all of these years he had managed to keep on treading the water.
Though, he didn’t mind. Even when it felt like the water was forcing its way down his throat, Merlin was happy because Arthur wasn’t the one drowning. Each breath of air he was allowed meant that he could prevent Arthur from even having to think about drowning.
So for years Merlin treaded water, acted as the dark side to the moon, adored from afar and accepted his painful fate; he watched happily from the side lines as Arthur grew into himself and his crown.
Arthur’s coronation was beautiful, Merlin felt so incredibly proud as he helped him into his ceremonial wear, he felt his chest threaten to burst as Geoffry placed the crown on Arthur’s head. The celebrations were a riot - in a fun sense - everyone seemed relaxed, food and drink were flowing through the halls. Merlin recounted hearing Gwaine’s bawdy laugh several times in one hour at least!
And he specifically remembered how Arthur would look at him over his shoulder, how their eyes would meet every time Merlin went to refill his wine, how just for a second the world disappeared.
He remembered their clumsy drunken stumble back to Arthur’s chambers, both leaning heavily against each other, whispering like gossiping maids about the most benign topics. He remembered how Arthur said things with no bite, there was no anger or annoyance to his tone.
Merlin remembered how Arthur sighed, rolled his head over to Merlin and looked up at him.
“A new age of Albion rests on my shoulders…” Arthur had murmured.
Merlin squatted down so that he was eye level with the freshly crowned king and then prodded Arthur in the centre of the forehead. He knew Arthur was drunk because normally he would have hit back, or grabbed Merlin, or done something remotely physical.
“As if I’m letting you do it alone, clotpole.” The weak and honest smile Arthur gave Merlin was heart rendering. “Go to sleep, Arthur, you have a new age to bring tomorrow.”
Arthur willingly fell asleep at Merlin’s command, his eyes fluttering closed and his breathing incredibly quickly deepened and evened out.
Merlin gently pushed away strands of hair that covered Arthur’s face, he smiled at his sleeping King and quietly left the chambers, bidding a good night to the guards.
“G’night Merlin.” They both cheerily said back.
He remembered strolling through the halls of the castle and briefly looking up at the moon: it glowed fervently. Merlin smiled to himself as he opened the door to his own room, he whispered little nothings as he stood on a crate to reach the window and he ignored the weight in his chest as he opened the shutters.
He stepped back and admired the perfect view he was given: the moon perfectly sitting in his window, its light pouring over the sill and onto Merlin’s bed. He sat on his bed, pulling off his boots and silently getting changed into his nightwear.
Not once did he linger on Arthur’s peaceful sleeping expression, and he certainly didn’t replay the looks they had shared across the entire night on repeat in his mind.
Merlin sighed and knew that he was honestly a little bit buggered. His feelings for Arthur hadn’t changed in the slightest, in fact, they had deepened. Or worsened: Merlin was yet to decide. But he had accepted that he would never be able to breath easily when Arthur was near and he had accepted that his mind was always distracted when Arthur wasn’t there.
So, for a moment, things were good.
But Arthur was correct, his crowning did bring a new age to Albion, Merlin just didn’t understand it yet. Things got increasingly busy in the following weeks, Merlin was being pulled in far too many directions and Arthur seemed stressed out of his mind for no reason that Merlin was aware of.
And it turned out that there was a reason. A very big reason.
It all came to a head when Arthur announced that there was to be the largest council session in his reign so far, Merlin suspiciously noted that nobles from all across the Kingdom were travelling to the castle. Normally this would mean that Merlin had his work cut out for him because some noble or servant or traveller had something against the King and would make an assassination attempt, which Merlin obviously would stop. But when the rooms of the castle’s guest wing were full, and the halls busier than ever, nothing seemed suspicious.
There was a buzz of anticipation that no one wanted to call out, less they jinxed it. But something was on the horizon, and everyone knew that it was big. It was even apparent in the lower town, in the market.
What hurt was that Arthur had mentioned none of it to Merlin, not a single word.
Finally, the council session came.
Tables were pulled from everywhere, giving every councillor a chair, though the throne room was exceedingly cramped with the added tables. There must have been at least seventy people, Merlin noted.
Merlin stood just behind Arthur’s chair, holding the mysterious documents that Arthur had been hiding from him. Murmurs flooded the throne room up until the last person sat down and then immediately ceased when Arthur stood up.
Heads all turned to Arthur, he had this incredible ability to command all attention to him, maybe it was a royal thing, maybe it was just an Arthur thing, but no one was immune to it. Certainly not Merlin.
“Thank you for coming here from so far away,” Arthur said to all the nobles that had travelled far to be here. “As I am sure you have guessed, I am making a rather large announcement.” Merlin had no idea what Arthur was about to announce, this speech was one that Merlin hadn’t written. “For almost twenty five years, Camelot has lived under an oppressive rule that has been intent on killing our own people.”
There was no way. It couldn’t be.
“I refuse to have my own rule continue this genocidal madness,” Arthur declared. “So from this day forth, the ban on magic will on longer be followed.”
Silence. Unbearing, stunned, and shocked silence.
Merlin dropped the documents that he was holding.
And then, most of the oldest who were present began to cheer because they knew the good magic could do, some outright burst into tears. The younger nobles were a little bit more hesitant. And Uther’s councilmen were immediately voicing their outraged opinions.
But Arthur held a strong face, if his back posture was anything to say. The King looked over his shoulder slowly at Merlin, glanced down at the scattered documents and then back at Merlin’s face. In all of Merlin’s years that he knew Arthur, he had never seen the look Arthur gave him before, a hidden hesitancy and worry.
No one else would have been able to notice or see Arthur’s fear when he glanced at Merlin, but Merlin did. Of course he did. And to sooth Arthur, to reassure him, Merlin gave him the biggest and proudest grin he could muster. It was all he could do that would stop him from breaking down into tears in the middle of the throne room and in front of all of the nobles.
Something in Arthur changed, a confident expression took hold because of Merlin, he then looked down at documents again and Arthur left his chair to help - help! - Merlin pick them up.
“You’re surprised.” Arthur said under his breath to Merlin.
“I just… wasn’t expecting that.” Merlin, for the first time, didn’t hide how happy he was about the topic of magic. “But I’m proud.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Merlin smiled at Arthur.
They both stood up and Merlin gave Arthur the rest of the documents. Arthur gave him a youthful and cocky grin that he hadn’t seen since before Uther had died, and then took his seat at the table.
Then came the almost boring part of the session; the new laws in their lengthy entirety. Merlin half paid attention to what Arthur was saying about the new rules, they were basically discussing what Merlin was and wasn’t allowed to do after all, but he was also deep in thought.
He would be able to tell Arthur the truth. Tell him about his magic, about what he’s done. And yeah, that terrified him. But Arthur was entitled to the truth. The worst scenario was no longer death or maybe even banishment. He might possibly get fired for lying to Arthur for so long, but he would be free, he could live freely, and it wasn’t as if he would let Arthur completely block him out of his life.
Merlin was so deep in his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed when the council session was over.
“Merlin!” Arthur yelled at him.
“Huh?” Merlin said rather dumbly. It turned out that Arthur had been saying his name several times. The knights, Arthur and Gaius were the only ones left in the throne room.
“C’mon, session’s over.” Arthur said, he looked relieved but also exhausted.
“Uh, yeah.” Merlin muttered, following the others as they left.
He trailed behind them, the knights were piling Arthur with questions and demands, Gwaine was teasing Arthur about his weird behaviour.
“Seriously, Princess, I’m not even from Camelot, it’s not as if I hate magic.” Gwaine smirked as he hung his arm over Arthur’s shoulders. “There was no need for all the secrecy.”
Arthur grumbled something in return that Merlin didn’t catch.
“Merlin, you alright?” Lancelot asked out of nowhere.
“Hm? Oh, yeah, I’m fine.” Merlin shrugged off, ignoring Lancelot’s happy and infectious look. “Actually, I’ve got to gather herbs, for Gaius, I’ll be back later.”
With that, he rushed off, not listening to the knights calling after him. Merlin didn’t even stop by Gaius’ to grab a basket or bag, just speed walking through the lower town until he was down in forest, breaking into a run to get to his regular clearing.
When he was met with a familiar sight, Merlin took a moment to catch his breath.
Then he yelled. “GGAHHHHHAARGGHH!”
Merlin grabbed his hair in fists and crouched down, still a tirade of unintelligible yelling. “That fucking arsehole!” He kicked at the grass. “That pompous supercilious twat!” Then a tree, which hurt. “ I can’t believe he didn’t fucking tell me! By the way Merlin,” Merlin snarled in a mockery of Arthur’s voice. “just thought I’d tell you that I’m repealing the ban on fucking magic!”
He dramatically flopped onto the grass, breathing erratically.
Then he started to hysterically laugh. Which slowly became crying. He was letting out loud, messy and choking cries that maybe people from the lower town might hear. He didn’t care.
He didn’t have to care anymore, because magic was free. Magic was back in Camelot, because of Arthur. Through blurry tears, Merlin looked up at the tree canopy, the leaves clustering together and barely allowing the sun to stream through. He shakily grinned to himself.
“Magic is free.” He told the forest. “I’m free.”
His heart soared with glee. The weight on his shoulders was slowly lifting, and he knew that once Arthur was told the truth, that weight would completely disappear.
Telling Arthur the truth. He had always imagined hundreds, even thousands, of different ways that could happen surrounding the reveal of his magic. Some of them were Merlin’s biggest fears, fears that woke him up at night in a cold sweat or intruded on him at the worst moments. But those fears couldn’t happen anymore, at least he couldn’t be burnt on a pyre for magic. Maybe betrayal of the King’s trust, he did tend to say rather treasonous stuff a lot. The good scenarios always ended up with Arthur being proud of Merlin.
He found that slightly unlikely. He’s killed people with magic after all. He’s certainly not proud of the things he’s done, but if he could show Arthur the good things about magic, then he’d be okay.
The best thing about this was that he had full control of who he could tell and how he told them. Sometimes he imagined Arthur finding out on patrol or during a bandit attack, he’d do something with magic and everyone would see that he used magic; not the ideal situation.
“I can tell Arthur.” Merlin whispered.
Merlin couldn’t be sure how long he stared up at the trees, lost to his own mind about things he never allowed himself to think about. But when the sunlight dimmed, Merlin bolted upright and realised how long he had been out here for.
He raced out of the forest and through the lower town, more people than ever roamed the streets. And magic was everywhere, Merlin almost had to stop because someone was putting on a light show for the children in the middle of the main square. It had only been a matter of hours since Arthur’s repeal began but news spread like wildfire, and everyone and their mothers seemed to be overjoyed.
Merlin grinned. He continued to run through the streets until he was up in the castle courtyard, then he slowly walked through the castle halls, trying to bring the correct combination of words together.
And suddenly, he was there, standing at Arthur’s door.
Unlike normal, Merlin didn’t barrel into Arthur’s chambers, if the guards weren’t so familiar with Merlin after all these years they would’ve probably arrested him on suspicious activity, he was just hovering outside of the door for ages.
Taking a deep breath and giving himself the largest mental shake of his life, Merlin pushed the door open, leaving a wide enough space for him to slip through.
Scanning the room briefly, Merlin found Arthur scribbling away at his desk, the fire was crackling away, and rather dimly lit in most places except from where there were bunches of candles scattered around.
“Finally, I was starting to get worried, you were gone for so long.” Arthur smiled at Merlin gently from his desk, Merlin would have taken his words for a jest if it weren’t for the slight crease in the King’s brow.
Merlin closed the door quietly behind him, trying to form the words he desperately wanted to say. “I- uhm…” He looked down, finding Arthur’s confused expression unbearable.
“Merlin, are you okay?” He heard Arthur stand up and slowly walk over to him.
Still standing beside the door, Merlin managed to stammer out, “I need to tell you something.”
Arthur’s steps paused, sensing that it was serious. “What do you need to tell me?”
He felt on the verge of throwing up. Every whispered secret he previously breathed out in the forest seemed to be trying to suffocate him in that moment. He took a shaky breath and made the mistake of looking up at Arthur, everything that was holding him back shattered.
Arthur was afraid, concerned. His King was scared for him. For him. Arthur’s hand began to reach for Merlin, “Merlin-”
“You repealed the ban on magic.” Merlin cut Arthur off. A burst of confidence flowed through him.
“I did.” Arthur said slowly. “Look, Merlin, I understand that you’re scared-”
“Scared?” Merlin interrupted again, frowning at Arthur as if he were crazy. “Why would I be scared? Did you not actually mean it?”
Panic rose through Merlin, he stepped forward to Arthur, seeking a tell or a sign on whether or not Arthur was being genuine or honest.
“What? No!” Arthur spluttered. “Of course I meant it!” He shook his head at Merlin, he stepped closer to Merlin and had a look that made Merlin feel fragile and weak. “I was referring to the fact that you’re scared of magic.”
Merlin stopped, jerking away from Arthur slightly. He frowned and again looked at Arthur if he were crazy. “Me… scared of magic. Where on earth did you get that from?”
Arthur sighed as if he knew that he’d have to have a conversation like this, as if he’d been playing the words over and over in his head as much as Merlin has. “You freeze up every time it’s brought up, you get all awkward about it… You seem afraid of it.”
Laughter bubbled up inside of Merlin. He wanted to laugh and to cry and to ridicule this stupid miscommunication.
“Arthur,” Merlin walked straight into Arthur’s personal space, holding Arthur’s arms with a smile. “Me being afraid of magic is like being afraid of myself.”
“What?” Escaped from Arthur’s mouth, and Merlin remembered who they both were.
He quickly stepped back, took a deep breath, and looked Arthur right in the eyes.
“Arthur, I have magic.”
For the second time that day, there was silence. Arthur stared at Merlin with wide eyes, his mouth opening and closing several times with no words coming out.
“You…” Was all Arthur managed to say.
“Have magic.” Merlin impatiently finished for him.
Something clicked into place in Arthur’s mind because Merlin could visibly see when he began to articulate thoughts again. “Since when?”
Merlin had control, he could tell Arthur just how he wanted, this was going how he wanted.
He was telling Arthur.
“Since always, I was born with it.” Merlin shrugged.
“That’s possible?” Arthur asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice.
“Yeah, ask my mum,” Merlin admitted with an easy smile. “I really cut it out for her.”
“I can imagine.” Arthur agreed with little tone to his voice.
They fell into a silence, neither attempting to say anything. It wasn’t uneasy or awkward, and Arthur didn’t appear to want to throw Merlin into a cell, but he wasn’t saying anything.
“Look, I really, really, did want to tell you-”
“Merlin-” Arthur tried to say.
“And there were so many times that I almost was going to-”
“Merlin-” Arthur said again.
“But then someone always interrupted or something happened-”
“Merlin-”
“And then the rest of the time there was never the right moment-”
“Merlin!” Arthur shouted. Merlin froze at Arthur’s outburst. “I understand why you didn’t want to tell me.”
“Really?” Merlin was a bit taken aback by how easy this was going.
“Yeah,” Arthur sighed, rubbing his face tiredly. “I mean for goddesses sake, Uther was my father! Of course you didn’t tell the son of the very man who started the purge that you had magic.”
Merlin expected Arthur to be angry. In fact, he had been anticipating Arthur yelling at him, he anticipated shouting and Arthur to do his normal routine of being stuck up and often refusing to listen. Why did he have to be so good?
“But I wanted to.” Merlin said quietly.
There it was, that rare and almost mythic look that only Merlin was allowed to see: Arthur’s softened eyes and a small smile that told a hundred stories. It was honest and vulnerable, Merlin had never seen Arthur look this with others, only when it was just them on their own. That look didn’t help Merlin’s feelings, it feeded them. Arthur probably didn’t realise how much he was indulging Merlin’s feelings.
Arthur rolled his eyes in a fond manner and pulled Merlin into a hug. “You’ve told me now, that’s all that matters.”
“Really?”
“Of course, Merlin, don’t be an idiot.”
Merlin could hear Arthur’s grin. He buried his face deeper into Arthur’s shoulder, taking every bit of care that Arthur was giving him while he had the chance. It was greedy and selfish, he knew that. But Arthur was never this gentle.
And he would revoke this kindness once he knew what Merlin was. What he does.
Merlin’s grip on Arthur’s shirt tightened, he didn’t want this to end. But it had to. He pulled away from Arthur’s arms and refused to look into Arthur’s eyes. He could feel Arthur frowning in confusion at him.
“Arthur…” Merlin began.
“Yeah?” Why did he have to be so good?
Merlin took a deep breath, his hands were shaking again, this time it wasn’t because he was afraid, but because he was thinking about what he had done with his hands.
“There’s stuff I’ve done… some… bad stuff.” He balled his hands into fists and tucked them into his sleeves. “There’s been people that have tried to hurt you… hurt Camelot and I… stopped them.”
Arthur understood exactly as to what he meant and still he asked, “Stopped?”
Merlin noted that his shoes were horrendously scuffed. In a quiet voice, he whispered, “Arthur, there is blood on my hands, a lot of blood.”
“Merlin,” Arthur said, almost pitying. “I am no different, I have killed too.”
“But it’s different,” Merlin protested, his vision blurring again, he wiped his sleeve against his face. “When you kill, you’re defending yourself. Those that I killed, it wasn’t always in defence.”
“Then why did you kill them?”
“They were plotting to kill you, or harm you. Or something…” Merlin trailed off.
Arthur huffed as if he were frustrated at Merlin. He strode over to Merlin and grabbed Merlin’s face in both of his hands, forcing the sorcerer servant to look at him. “Merlin, you don’t have to explain yourself, I know you would never be so heartless about taking a person's life,” The King’s words were gentle and reassuring. “I know better than anyone that when you live a life in this kingdom, in this castle, and when you’re so close to me, there is going to be death, but it sounds like you were doing good.” Arthur’s hands were soft. They weren’t like servants or peasants, rough and worked. Arthur had calluses from wielding swords and weapons, but not from carrying buckets and doing heavy work. Merlin wanted to lean deeper into the touch, he wanted to burn it into his mind and save the feeling forever. “You don’t have to tell me.”
Tears were pouring down Merlin’s face, Arthur’s thumbs were brushing them away. “But I want to! I have wanted to for six years! Ever since I came to Camelot and became friends with you, I have wanted to!” Merlin cried out. “There have been so many things I’ve done that I’ve wanted to tell you about, things I’ve wanted to show you…”
“Can you tell me and show me those things now?” Arthur asked him.
Merlin’s breath was whisked away. He took one of Arthur’s hands in his own, nearly struggling to believe that Arthur had asked him this.
“ Please .”
There it was again, that rare smile.
Merlin let go of Arthur’s hand but didn’t step away, at chest height, Merlin brought his hands together with his palms facing the ceiling.
“ Hine on ylde eft gewunigen wilgesiþas, þonne wig cume. ” Merlin breathed out, his eyes didn’t leave Arthur’s face, watching as the King’s eyes darted between Merlin’s own and his hands. Light gathered in the centre of Merlin’s hands, he heard Arthur’s breath hitch as the light gathered into a tight ball and formed an orb.
The way Arthur’s face lit up in surprise and awe made Merlin feel like a million gold coins. The blue hue that the orb produced spanned over Merlin and Arthur, it lifted from Merlin’s hands and into the air at both mens eye level.
“It was you, all those years ago in the caves.” Arthur whispered. “How?”
“It’s my nature to protect you.” Merlin shrugged.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Arthur was still looking at the orb, his eyes travelled to Merlin’s with a questioning frown.
Ah. Merlin had forgotten about the prophecy.
“You might want to sit down for this.” Merlin winced slightly, guiding Arthur to his chair by the fireplace.
When both men were sitting down and Arthur was no longer distracted by the orb, Merlin began explaining to Arthur all about the prophecy. How it was made, how he found out about it, how he started to believe in it too.
And then he told Arthur that he slowly started to forget all about the prophecy.
“Everything started to become less about the Once and Future King,” Merlin said as he stared into the fire, he felt Arthur’s eyes trained on him. This was the closest Merlin had ever been to telling Arthur all of the truths, all of his secrets, but it was the closest he would ever allow himself to go. “And it started to become more about my best friend, and how his birthright might get him killed and that I didn’t want to grieve for him too soon.”
“I thought Lancelot or Gwaine would be your best friend.” Out of everything, that was the last thing Merlin expected Arthur to pick up on.
Merlin met Arthur’s eyes. They hardly ever spoke of their friendship, it was only two or three years ago that Arthur willingly admitted that Merlin was more than a servant to him. But it wasn’t as if they needed to speak about it, the feeling - whatever it was - was there. The unspoken care was there, as was the protection and loyalty. But never the confirmation.
“Of course you’re my best friend.” This was starting to become uncharted territory, feelings and such were new for them. “Am I yours?”
Arthur’s eyes looked down and then to the fire. He didn’t seem nervous or as aware of what they were both saying as Merlin was.
“You were my first true friend.” Arthur began. “You treated me normally, you taught me how to be normal. Because of you, I have multiple friends that aren’t putting up with me just because of my title.” Arthur looked back up at Merlin. “You are my best, and closest, friend.”
Maybe Merlin wasn’t thinking properly, or maybe he had gotten used to the ban repeal extremely quickly within the afternoon, or maybe it was a mix of both, but something stirred inside of Merlin’s magic. The fire leapt out in a myriad of colours and shapes, causing both men to startle.
“Does it always do that?” Arthur asked.
“I have no idea.” Merlin answered honestly.
Arthur stared at Merlin for a second as if to say ‘How do you not know?’ and then he visibly backtracked his thoughts, remembering that he had just repealed the ban today.
“Do as much magic as you want.” Arthur said. “Wherever you are, do spells and sorcery and stuff.”
Merlin snorted at Arthur.
“What?”
“I already do a lot of magic, dollophead, though, thank you.” Merlin leaned his head on his shoulder and grinned over at Arthur.
“You already do magic?” Arthur repeated.
“Mhm, how do you think I do your impossibly long list of chores? Or how I protect you?” Merlin smirked.
“Those chores would be easily accomplishable if you were any good at your job!” Arthur protested.
Merlin rolled his eyes, faking annoyance at the King.
“You’ve said that twice now, that you protect me.” Arthur said. “You protect me with magic, against magic?”
“It’s not always magic, most of the time the assassins and mercenaries don’t have magic, the only time I encounter sorcerers are when they come to attack you outright that I really interact with them, and they normally pay me no attention.” Merlin explained. “Most magic based attacks are monsters and beasts, which I always tell you how to kill or get rid of and you always ignore me on!”
“Well I won’t anymore!” Arthur put his hands up in defence. “You’re now going to be my resident magical advisor.”
“Is that a promotion I’m hearing, My Lord?” Merlin teased.
“Maybe.” Merlin did a double take. “Only if you want it.”
“I don’t need a wider range of responsibilities, thank you very much.” Merlin tried to play off.
“You’d obviously drop the boring stuff,” Arthur pointed out. “Like my laundry and cleaning my chambers, and you’d finally get an official room and some better clothes, probably even a pay rise.”
Merlin didn’t reply. It was tempting. But he had to seriously put some thought into it.
The night continued with ease, Merlin brought them a jug of wine to share without leaving the room, the fire didn’t sputter once and both men fell into easy conversation. Merlin wittering on about one instance or another that they had gotten into and he had to get them out of it, and Arthur patiently listened, almost desperate to understand the truth about the both of them.
In the end, both men fell asleep in their respective chairs, sated on the truth and honesty that was shared between them: from that night on, things were different between them.
It was a good different.
When Merlin performed magic in front of others, Arthur didn’t bat an eyelid and acted as if it were completely normal. Because it was. Magic could finally be a normal thing. There were those that stared, some even dared to comment on it, but with the King there, watching, no one was harsh or cruel. And when it was just the two of them, alone, Arthur would stare at the little acts of magic with curious eyes, every now and then he would ask questions.
With the freedom of the repeal, Merlin’s secrets no longer had to be secret. It slowly came out of what he had done in that past, and some revered him with admiration for what he had done for the Kingdom.
They all began to see Merlin in a clearer light. They saw his loyalty, his strength and his devotion.
That was what it appeared to be - to the onlookers - at least. For all the secrets that Merlin revealed over the months after the repeal, Merlin still believed himself to be a liar. Even after he accepted the position of Court Sorcerer.
Guilt, pain and longing curled tighter in his chest whenever Arthur looked upon him with pride and admiration: the heavy weight of his feelings that suffocated him became a comforting companion that he had long accepted would never leave. So as Merlin’s traitorous heart had elected to burn brighter and more painfully at all of this, so did his list of acts for Camelot - and in turn, for Arthur - grow incredibly long.
And everyone marvelled at it: they saw him as a man of faith to his King.
No.
He was simply a fool, painfully, in love.
He cursed himself each night, feeling guilt and greed at the small moments he and Arthur had shared that day. He would fall asleep each night, in the new room that fitted his new title, and beg for whatever fate or deity or god was inflicting him with these unstoppable feelings. He stared at the moon and the stars each night before sleep claimed him, wishing that Arthur was there beside him so that he could share their light and stories with his King.