Archive of Our Own ^beta

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.

Chapter Text

Arthur had never been one for stormy days, he hates the rain, he hates dark skies that loom over his kingdom with a menacing aura and he hates how dreary everything feels. Merlin likes to remind him - every time there is a storm or simply just grey weather - to not go in a foul mood because he can’t get out and do things. 

Arthur has never been a man of inaction, he has to be doing something, he has to be going somewhere. He can debate and talk with the councillors up to a point. He can spar and train with his knights for as long as his body allows him. There are limits to his actions and yet he can be with Merlin for endless hours, he doesn’t tire or grow weary, he doesn't become sick of their human interaction and he doesn't ever want their time to end. 

To him, Merlin is simply different. 

Not because of the magic, or their titles and social standing, or their difference in looks: Merlin was simply different from the rest, and that was more than okay because Arthur needed different. 

He needed anything that Merlin gave him. 

That should’ve been a weird or even a slightly odd thought to believe in and accept so easily all those years ago, just when he and Arthur had just met, but now it was normal. 

Their different was their normal. 

It was a stormy day, there was no merry sun and Arthur was cooped in his chambers, drowning in paperwork that was slowly driving him to a point of madness. Merlin isn’t even present to chastise him about his poor mood. 

Arthur spun his quill between finger and thumb in utter boredom, it was this clawing feeling of uselessness that made him get all pent up - too desperate to prove himself. But the rain came down heavily against the panes of glass behind him and Arthur shivered, feeling sorry for whatever poor sod would be stuck in the weather out there. 

The door slammed open signalling Merlin’s entry. Arthur turned to meet his servant, already feeling the day brighten slightly, and snorted at the sight in front of him. 

“Look what the cat finally dragged in?” Arthur teased. 

“Shut up, you prat.” Merlin panted as he caught his breath, shoving his waterlogged hair from his face. 

Merlin looked akin to a drowned rat. From head to toe Merlin’s clothes were thoroughly soaked; his cheeks, nose and ears were scuffed red; and teeth unrelentingly chattered and his shoulders shook. 

Poor sod. 

“Are you okay?” Arthur asked in their differently interpreted language. 

That was their thing: ask one thing when you mean something else entirely. What Arthur wanted to ask was ‘Are you in danger, are you hurt, do you need my help, what do you need?’. But he would never directly ask Merlin that and neither would Merlin if the other way around. 

Almost seven years of friendship had been built on this principle. 

Merlin’s arms were tightly wrapped around his waist in a meagre attempt to keep some semblance of body warmth to his frame. 

“I’ve already dealt with it-” The threat has been neutralised. “-and I’ve given Leon my report.” You don’t need to worry about any of it. 

Arthur nodded and accepted Merlin’s words, relaxing at his desk slightly. He stared at Merlin for a moment, he had been doing that a lot lately, ever since the repeal of the magic ban almost a year ago, he had increasingly begun to stare at Merlin. 

He set his quill down and crossed his arms, looking Merlin up and down. 

“Summon a bath.” He ordered his manservant. 

“What?!” Merlin spluttered. “You prat, I’ve just been through a storm and a half, I’m bloody freezing-” 

“For yourself, Mer lin.” Arthur interrupted.  

“Oh.” Merlin said, deflating in his argument and protest. 

Arthur rolled his eyes humorously as Merlin sheepishly waved his hand about and a bathtub full of hot water appeared from thin air. This had also become another one of their things: though much more of a recent development: bathing with the other present, only trusting one another in their most vulnerable moments and no one else. 

Merlin wordlessly stripped, his clothes drifting through the air and floating in front of the fireplace, and sunk into the magic summoned bath. Arthur was glad that Merlin’s back was to him because he was able to hide the proud smile that infected the King’s face at the scene of Merlin using magic so casually. 

It had taken them both so long to get to where they are now. 

Arthur grabbed the box of soaps that sat in the bottom of his cupboards and strolled over to Merlin, dragging a stool over at the same time. He sat down behind Merlin and riffled through all the pots and bars of lotions and soaps and smelling stuff, he heard Merlin dunk beneath the water and seconds later come back up. 

The water fell around Merlin as the warlock broke the surface, Arthur couldn’t help but stare for a moment at Merlin’s back. At the surprising amount of muscular definition he never expected to be there nor the scars that forever marked his brave friend. 

Arthur caught himself staring and stopped before it was a moment too long - he quickly poured some flowery smelling muscle tonic into his palms and began to work it into Merlin’s shoulders and back. 

Merlin looked over his shoulder at Arthur, as always, giving Arthur a look that made him feel like the most lucky and special person in the world. Not the way a King is meant to be looked at, but how any ordinary person is looked at by their loved ones. Merlin never fails to remind Arthur that he is not alone, that he is cared for and that Merlin will always be at his side, unrelentingly being his friend.  

“The weather starting to get to you?” Merlin let out a sigh of contentment when Arthur dug into a particular part of his back, just above his right shoulder blade. 

Arthur scoffed. “You could say that.” 

Merlin’s skin underneath his hands never failed to feel like a trick. It was something he never wanted to let go of feeling - the first chance he was given had just made him want even more - but it was far too dangerous. If he ever gave in, Arthur never would be able to let go. 

“Honestly Sire, you’re the one who compares me to one of your dogs, and yet here you are stalking the length of your cage.” Merlin laughed, his head tipped back and Arthur caught a quick glance at Merlin. 

In retaliation Arthur smeared soapy bubbles across Merlin’s face. Merlin cried out in surprise and spun around to face the King. Merlin’s eyes flashed gold and the bubbles travelled around Merlin’s face into an exaggerated moustache. Arthur shook his head and poorly attempted to suppress his sniggering. 

Merlin chuckled and the sound of Merlin paired with the touch between them sent something through the King. 

Arthur felt it. A rare flash that went through him as quick as falling-star filled sky, it was something that he had never once felt before. He stilled, his hands rested on the lip of the tub as he stared at Merlin with a new outlook, and took a single moment to steady himself. 

He felt the flash fill his chest and grow like fire, it struck him and burned away at everything he knew and revealed a new lens of vision to look out of. He chased the feeling, feeling hooked on the emotion, desperate for more, he chased after the tiny glimpse for more of the burn and only stopped when he realised he was looking at the truth. 

His heart blazed with something new and old altogether. Something that had always been there, standing silently unbeknownst to him behind his back. He never once thought to turn around and question the heat that licked at his spine or shoulder blades. 

All it took was the smallest shooting glance and Arthur turned around. 

He turned around and saw and understood it all. 

His hands began moving once more, he made Merlin turn back around before the warlock could try and make any comment on that odd little moment. Arthur began to distractedly work on Merlin’s hair, feeling the shape of Merlin's head and neck under his hands and letting the soap travel down his wrists and arms, dripping at his elbows. Merlin was talking again but Arthur was unable to hear him above the sounds of the flames that filled him inside. Each new touch elicited a harsher feeling, more strong and intense than ever before. 

He had had his back to this blinding strength for so long that he was used to it, and now he had turned around it was impossible to ignore. He couldn’t push it off as something else - how long had he been denying the truth?

But it wasn’t just him, was it? This feeling, it isn’t just Arthur involved. Merlin had grinned at him, eyes gold like the castle treasury, and Arthur felt it all just click into place and make sense. 

Oh. 

Oh . 

Oh fuck. 

It was that stormy day, sitting behind Merlin in the tub, that Arthur understood things better. He understood why every act of Merlin’s magic left him breathless. Why he could barely be able to tear his eyes from the man ever since the magic repeal. Why this free and happier Merlin seemed so much different and better. 

Merlin hadn’t changed, not really. But he was different. 

There was an air about the man that Arthur had noticed ever since the truth of his magic - and more illegal activities - had come to fruition. Merlin was more at ease, more relaxed and calm. There had been days where he regressed back to before the repeal, but he had come to Arthur and was honest. And Arthur comforted him, he helped him in any way that was possible - Arthur found himself constantly reaching or looking for the man. 

And with this new revelation of why, well, it just made him reach out and look more. 

He, Arthur Pendragon, was entirely in love with Merlin Emrys; his manservant; protector; guardian; saviour; advisor; and closest friend. He didn’t let anything change any further between them - he just couldn’t give a reasonable explanation for risking everything that they are for something as plain as love. And he couldn’t do that to Merlin, to ask so much of the man knowing that Merlin would just thoughtlessly give it to him. He - the King - couldn’t ask that of his most faithful subject. He couldn’t. He refused to. 

He refused to betray that power and trust. 

Perhaps though, his actions were as selfish as they were honourable. Deep down, Arthur felt guilty and awful that he was doing the very thing he said he would never do: he was saving his own fragile heart from being irreparably broken by not acting on his words. He had never done anything like this before, then again, he had never felt such things before - never to this extent. 

He would catch Merlin’s eyes during council meetings and it would just be the two of them and no one else in the room. He would catch himself controlling his breathing and pulse when Merlin dressed him each morning and evening. And he would not disguise his wonder at any performance of magic Merlin did. 

He let his pride of Merlin be shown because if he didn’t then his love certainly would be. 

All of this still didn’t stop his feelings. It was futile to brush off the feeling when Merlin was near, and it was hopeless to not consider when Merlin wasn’t. Thankfully, Merlin made it seem as though nothing had changed between them, he still smiled and laughed and joked with Arthur. Merlin still continued his chores as Arthur’s manservant but would still disappear with little explanation only to return hours, if not the next day, later with bloody hands; a grim look in his eyes, and a detailed report on the atrocities he had just prevented. 

This Merlin - this honest and bold Merlin - was something else. He joined in on training with the Knights and blew everyone away with his skill - though not with a weapon, he was still hopeless in that department - he spoke out in council on matters concerning magic and was actually listened to because everyone considered him the unofficial Court Sorcerer. In the streets of Camelot he was regaled as an honoured knight was: everyone now knew the truth, what he had silently done for all of them, and they treated him like the fearless warrior he truly is. 

They gave him countless gifts that he would always blush and stammer at and be forced into accepting. They beamed smiles at him and came to him in times of need because he was so greatly trusted. 

Above all, he was respected. 

By the nobles and councillors, by the knights, and by the people. 

Arthur would stand behind Merlin, watching as the warlock was adored, and find traitorous words on the tip of his tongue, threatening to spill and spoil it all. He held himself back. In every little perfect moment between them, he held himself back because it was too dangerous if he opened his mouth and let it all come rushing out. 

Maybe there would be a day where he would be honest, but not now. 

Not when Merlin had just caught Arthur staring when they were alone together in his chambers and placed the back of his fingers to Arthur's forehead, frowning in concern. 

“My King, are you feeling well?” 

Arthur wrapped his hand around Merlin’s worrying wrist and pulled it away, he didn’t let go. He gave Merlin a smile that was far too transparent for his own liking. The tips of his fingers did not meet as they held Merlin’s wrist, his palm felt the difference of texture that spanned Merlin’s forearm - the scars and marks and unsullied skin - he felt Merlin's pulse under his thumb. 

Just this moment, the closeness of it was just too much. 

He sharply let go of Merlin and cleared his throat. “I’m fine, Merlin, you worry too much.” 

Merlin frowned and clearly didn’t believe Arthur. He leaned in close, too close, glaring at Arthur as if he were some difficult spell he couldn’t figure out. Arthur realised a moment too late that Merlin was analysing him, he realised this when Merlin’s eyes blossomed into gold. 

He felt Merlin’s magic wash over him, flooding over his body in a way that made him squirm in his chair. Merlin was still so close. Arthur couldn’t pull his eyes from Merlin’s, too - forgive the wording of it - enchanted by the golden irises that stared at him. 

He knew that Merlin could sense his heart rate quicken, he knew that Merlin could see his cheeks redden and most of all, he knew that he was being too careless with the line that was starting to blur between clumsy and downright foolish. 

“Huh.” Merlin said suddenly, standing up straight with his hands on his hips. “You really are just fine, there’s nothing wrong with you.” 

Arthur gritted his jaw together and restrained the want to either shove Merlin away for being so dense and storm off or to pull the moron in and snog him senseless to get the point across. 

Merlin looked back down at Arthur with an expression that he couldn’t read, the warlock opened his mouth to say something and then closed it again.

“Uhm, bye.” And just left. 

Arthur was left slightly stumped that Merlin would just randomly leave like that so unprompted, but then again, one of his wards or spells could have been tripped alerting him for an intruder. 

Arthur let it go, the tiniest bit thankful that Merlin had gone and focused on catching his breath and levelling out his heart. He covered his face with both hands and leant his elbows against the desk, embarrassed that he had let that get so far. 

That instance wasn’t repeated, or spoken off, again. Arthur was more careful from that point on. Merlin still didn’t see it, but that didn’t mean others were the same. Leon was the first to ask him about it months after his initial realisation. 

They were standing side by side overlooking the different levels of experience knights train in small groups. It was a somewhat sunny day, and Merlin was off somewhere that Arthur didn’t know, so his mind was only half in it on paying attention to the footwork of his fighters. 

“Sire, may I have permission to speak freely?” Leon said out of the blue. 

Arthur raised his brow and shrugged, there was no one around so it was almost confidential. “You may.” 

Leon took a steady breath in, preparing himself for what he was about to say. Arthur frowned at this and crossed his arms, trying to guess what Leon of all people could possibly ask. 

The First Knight turned to his King and asked, “What is happening with you concerning Merlin?”

“Pardon? I don’t understand.” Oh, but Arthur did, he understood perfectly what Leon was asking. He was only too floored that Leon of all people would ask such a question. 

Leon seemed nervous to continue, remembering that he was talking to his King after all, but he was brave and continued. 

“Forgive me for being so bold, Sire, but are you in love with Merlin?”

Arthur sighed and looked down. “Am I that obvious?”

“To a few, yes.” Leon said in a much softer tone than before. 

“And to Merlin?” He met Leon’s eyes, all too afraid that the worst case scenario had come to play.

“I don’t think so.” Leon shook his head. 

Arthur breathed a sigh of relief, and slight disappointment. The King nodded his head, “Good.” 

They were both silent for a moment, glancing back to the knights and squires. 

Then Arthur said, “Why do you ask?” 

“Being completely honest, Arthur, I see you as a close friend - a brother even.” Leon began to justify. 

“As do I.” Arthur reassured. 

“I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Arthur froze, his eyes stuck on a far off tree that lay on the horizon of the forest. “W-what…” 

“Arthur, in all my time of knowing Merlin, I have never seen or even heard of Merlin having interest in anyone. Even as a rumour.” Leon placed his hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “I don’t think he would intentionally lead you on like this, but I don’t think that he would return your feelings.” 

Arthur’s body was taunt in defence but at Leon’s gentle tone and comforting hand, he gave in. He blinked several times and pressed his lips together. 

He barely managed to let out a small, “I know.” 

He heard Leon let out an empathetic sigh. “Let’s go somewhere else, Arthur.” 

He let himself be led away by the man he considered to be an older brother. Leon took them to a small room in a random corridor of the castle. The door was closed and Arthur broke down. Leon pulled him into a tight hug and Arthur just wept, holding onto Leon for support. 

“I could never ask such things of him,” Arthur said between shuddering breaths. “But I can’t- it- It hurts far too much, Leon.” 

Leon ran his hand across Arthur’s back and shoulder blades. “I know, Arthur, I know.” 

Arthur sniffed. “I never appreciated how much love can hurt, or how much I would let it hurt me.”

“I don’t think any of us do.” Leon agreed quietly. 

Arthur pulled away from the embrace. “I mean- Like- Why Merlin? Why out of all people, why did it have to be Merlin that I fell in love with?” He groaned at his own self inflicted stupidity. “I mean, Merlin , seriously?” 

He huffed, tears streaming down his face, pressing the heels of his hand into his eyes in a meagre attempt to stop. He couldn’t make himself. 

“Arthur…” Leon looked as if he were going to continue and say something, anything, but he lost his words. 

Arthur just further started to cry. Leon kept apologising, holding Arthur close as any two brothers would. Leon felt helpless guilt that there was nothing else he could do but offer physical comfort. There was a reason Merlin was Arthur’s best friend, he knew what to do with Arthur when everyone else was clueless. 

There was a knock on the door and then, “Hello, is someone in there? I thought I heard crying.”

Arthur recognised the owner of the voice to be Guinevere. Leon looked between Arthur and the door in concern. 

“Come in, Guinevere.” Arthur answered Leon’s silent question. 

“Arthur?” Guinevere asked in surprise as she opened the door, she then laid her eyes on the dishevelled and teary eyed King and rushed over. “Oh, Arthur, what happened?” 

Arthur closed his eyes in defeat and let himself be held by his two oldest friends. He looked down at Guinevere with a downcast expression and just shrugged. 

“It’s true.” 

And she knew instantly what he was talking about. She covered her mouth with a pitying expression. “Arthur, I’m so sorry.” 

It seemed that everyone had the same opinion then: loving Merlin was a hopeless cause. He could admire his beautiful sun, he could sit there and watch but never be at peace - too afraid of being burnt to ash whilst suffering over the endless want he has to reach and touch. 

“What do I do, guys?” Arthur hiccuped, not looking the slightest bit Kingly nor finding it in himself to care. “Because I cannot keep doing this, it’s horrendous. I look at him and just want to give him everything he needs. I’d probably rip out my own heart for him.” Arthur let out a dark and choked laugh. “And you know what he’d bloody do? He’d apologise and stitch me back together and do some magic trick and make me laugh and it would just make me love him more.” 

Leon’s eyes widened and he said with a wince, “Wow, you’ve really got it bad.” 

“Mhm.” Arthur nodded, feeling another wave of crushing emotion approach. “This morning he woke me up and there were cornflowers everywhere because he knows they’re my favourite and he knows that I was worried about the meeting with the northern farmer’s guild this morning, and he stayed by my side the entire time so that I wasn’t a massive mess.” 

“Oh wow.” It was Guinevere’s turn to say. 

“Yeah.” Arthur shrugged, he let go of them both and sat against the wall on the floor, he looked up at them hopelessly. “I just want things to be normal. I’m in love with him and I’m glad that I’m in love with him but every damn second I’m with him I’m terrified that I’m ruining it all.” Arthur ran his hands through his hair feeling like a madman. “Hell, I didn’t even understand why I loved him until a few weeks ago, want to know why? Want to know why it’s now that I’ve fallen for that idiot and not several years ago?” 

Leon came to sit down on Arthur right whilst Guinevere sat on his left.

“I’m guessing you’re going to tell us.” Leon tried to say with a light tone. 

“Damn right I am.” Arthur snapped. “It’s because of his magic.”

His words surprised both Leon and Guinevere, out of everything Arthur could have said, Merlin’s magic was the last thing they expected. 

Arthur went on to continue. “Because for years he’s been hiding such a massive part of himself from me for his own safety, I didn’t know the real him. But now?! Now I know him, the real and proper Merlin. The Merlin that goes around selflessly saving everyone with such unfearing bravery I get so often scared shitless that he might not come home, the Merlin that is capable of such great feats of power but instead uses his abilities to make flowers grow in my chambers, the Merlin that is now so honest with me I trust him above everyone else. 

“That is the real Merlin. That is who I am in love with. Not the timid magicless servant he was when I was a Prince and there were too many secrets between us. I think that if I never repealed the ban, I wouldn’t be in love because I wouldn’t know the real Merlin.” Arthur was gesturing wildly with his hands whilst avoiding Guinevere and Leon’s sad expressions. 

Gwen rested her head on Arthur’s shoulder and held onto his arm. “Yeah, you are right on that. None of us would know the real Merlin if it weren’t for the repeal.” 

“I just want things to be normal again.” Arthur’s head leant back against the wall as he uttered his confession. “Or at least as normal as things should be. I want to be what we were before I realised what I feel for him. I want to know about his magic but not have to suffer the weight of the crown alone. I want him as my friend,” Arthur paused, his eyes wide with fear. “And yet I want him as something more, but I can’t ever have that with him because it wouldn’t be real. Would it?” 

“I don’t know, I…” Leon trailed off. “I’m not Merlin, unless you spoke to him on this, I can’t tell you anything factual. But I know that he would never want to hurt you, and you don’t want to betray his trust, and I think that that is what is working against you.” 

Arthur took in Leon and finally - finally - raised a white flag in defeat. “You are right, I would’ve noticed if he were in love with me.” 

“Arthur, I say this as both yours and Merlin’s friend, tell him.” Gwen sat up and shuffled forward, facing Arthur directly and making him unable to look away. “Tell him. Tell him and move on.” 

“I will.” There comes a point in most experiences of one sided love where you finally realise that you will never achieve your heart’s desire and you finally accept that you’re in a losing battle. Arthur sat there sandwiched between the two who had known him the longest, who had seen him when he was a young and arrogant brat and then watched him grow into a good and thoughtful King.  “Just, please, don’t tell him. Let me?”

“Of course, Arthur.” Gwen leaned in and pulled him into another hug. 

“Yeah, mate, we’d never do something like that.” Leon encased him from the other side. 

“Thank you both.” 

“Anytime Arthur.” Gwen murmured, far too sadly. 

It was easier after that, though everything had a bittersweet bite to it, it became more bearable. There would be an end to this, this wasn’t forever, and was allowed to enjoy the good moment whilst they still came. After all, he was only human, it would take an inhumane saint to stop their own heart and be so selfless. Arthur was human, and as selfish with his heart as the rest of us come. 

He now savoured the grazing touches he and Merlin shared in those random and rare and intimate moments. He refused to shy away from Merlin’s gaze - whether that was watching the warlock perform magic outside of the castle or simply sitting together in the late evening when they were alone by the fireplace. And gods, he let his worry and concern for the reckless man be apparent. 

Merlin had run into Arthur’s chambers one night - exceedingly late, might Arthur add - looking a frazzled mess with a massively concerning stain slowly seeping across his hip and stomach. 

Arthur had stayed up late working on preparations for the yearly tourney that was fast approaching. Since the repeal, some rules had to either be changed, abolished or even created. But none of that mattered to Arthur the moment he laid his eyes on Merlin. 

He lurched to his feet as Merlin’s shoulders dropped in relief. 

“Oh thank the gods.” Merlin breathlessly gasped. “You’re okay.” 

“Of course I am.” Arthur said thoughtlessly as he rushed to Merlin’s side and guided him to sit down at the foot of the bed. He knelt down and lifted Merlin’s tunic up, hands shaking as he caught view at eye level of the wound that adorned Merlin’s body. 

A deep cut ran parallel to Merlin’s left hip, it looked as if someone had slashed their sword across Merlin’s body- Arthur looked up at Merlin and met his eyes. Some had slashed their sword across Merlin’s body in a fight. The King stood and turned to the wash bowl, retrieving a hand cloth and the medical box Arthur had placed in a drawer in case of emergencies: the rate of emergencies was far too alarming and frequent, but there was little Arthur could do. 

Merlin sat on the edge of the bed with his left leg outstretched so that Arthur could easily have access to his wound. The wash bowl of water was set on the ground as Arthur knelt back at Merlin’s feet. The cloth was dipped and then wrung out, carefully cleaning away the blood. 

Two years ago, Arthur never would have been the one to clean Merlin’s battle wounds, let alone knelt at the man’s feet in worry. But now? Arthur would do anything to ease Merlin’s pain and bring comfort to the man. 

“Why didn’t you go to Gaius?” Arthur chastised, this was a common conversation. “Or even bring someone with you so that this happens less?” 

His heart panged at all of the ‘what if’s’. 

“If it were any worse, I would have.” Merlin held himself up by holding his weight in his arms, hands flat out on the bed behind him. He winced as Arthur carefully cleaned the wound. “But it wasn’t and I needed to make sure that you were okay.” 

The wound had stopped bleeding and Arthur had entirely cleaned it all away, throwing the cloth into the bloodied water filled basin, the King riffled through the medical box and found a pot of gauze and a roll of bandages. 

“And you know how it is,” Merlin shrugged, briefly hissing as the cold gauze came into contact with his bare muscle, flesh and skin. “I barely get enough of a warning as it is, I can hardly spare a moment running around looking for someone to help me when your life or Camelot is at stake.” 

“Merlin!” Arthur rose to his feet, wanting to shake some sense into the man. He had tried it before - it hadn’t worked, obviously. “You have placed more than enough wards and protection enchantments on me and this room for me to be perfectly safe!” He bared his teeth at the warlock in frustration and annoyance, the roll of bandages still in his hand. “And the entirety of Camelot is not a burden for your shoulders to bear alone. I am the King, please do not forget that,” Arthur leaned in close, not for a kiss, no, never a kiss, but to securely wrap the bandages around Merlin’s waist. 

He met Merlin’s eyes, fiercely not backing down from Merlin’s challenging glare. “If it’s anyone’s burden, it is mine.” 

Merlin shook his head and tiredly grinned up at his King. “As if I’d let you do anything alone.”

Arthur stood up straight, looking down at Merlin, bandaged and exhausted. The warlock was leant back, still propped up on his hands behind him, looking one gentle breeze from being knocked onto his back and into a deep slumber. 

The King held out his hand, knowing that he was coming far too close to danger far too soon, Merlin took the offered hand and Arthur pulled Merlin into a hug. Merlin’s arms wrapped low around Arthur’s waist with his head resting against Arhtur’s chest. Arthur held the back of Merlin’s head in one hand and he placed his other arm across the back of Merlin’s shoulders. 

He would bet so much money that Merlin could hear Arthur’s erratic heartbeat. 

“Idiot.” He said into Merlin’s hair. 

The painful ache was something Arthur quickly began to associate with Merlin as the days turned into weeks. Gwen and Leon both spared him pitying and apologetic glances whenever Merlin wasn’t looking - it should have been unbearable, but Arthur found acceptance in their knowing. 

He walked the castle with a heavy chest, it didn’t matter anymore for Merlin’s proximity, because the knowing made it so much worse. He had dug his grave with his own willing hands, and now he would lie in it and look up as the sun consumed the entirety of the sky.

More people began to notice, they never said anything, they didn’t need to. Their understanding glances and inclines of heads were enough for Arthur to feel seen. And yet Merlin himself still did not - could not - see it himself. 

Arthur was either the luckiest bastard alive or the most ill-fated genius to live. 

As the preparations for the tourney slowly began to engulf Arthur, and, in turn, Merlin, Arthur began to count down his days to telling Merlin the truth. 

He had sat on it all long enough, he had pondered and basked in the notion of being in love with someone - but he could feel it: cracks slowly splintering through his heart to the point of no return. He needed his heart, he needed it for so much, and what would a good and kind King be without a heart? 

Merlin would be so disappointed in him if he was unable to be a kind and just King. 

Decorations slowly began to rise through the castle; flowers both cut from the royal gardens and grown from magic; banners and crests drifting in the wind hung on walls; ribbons and wreaths and garlands hung between pillars and arches. The castle and the lower towns were all beginning to rise into an excited buzz for the upcoming festivities: the new rules that Arthur had finally released putting everyone on the edge of their seats. 

It would be entirely anonymous for one, that rule was added just so that Arthur could fight without his opponent worrying about injuring their King, the fighter’s identity only to be revealed if they lost the battle or were the final victor. 

And then there was the entire new magical branch of the tournament. 

Gods how Arthur had begged for Merlin to enter that. 

“Arthur,” Merlin had groaned exasperatedly, sick of the King asking. “I run around after you and the Kingdom enough as it is, I don’t have the time nor the energy to participate in the tourney.” 

“Oh come on Merlin.” Arthur almost whined. 

“And it wouldn’t be fair to the other competitors if I did join,” Merlin easily countered. “I’m Emrys for the gods sake, I’d beat them all by a landslide.” 

So getting Merlin to join the magic side of the tournament hadn’t worked, but still Arthur looked forward to it nonetheless. He and Merlin were spending every spare moment they had preparing the King for the upcoming fights. 

It was on one particular early evening - the eve of the tournament - when Merlin and Arthur were heading back from a training session, sweaty, tired and hungry, when a random noble approached them both and tried to give Arthur their favour to wear in the tournament. 

Arthur, of course, gently let them down and refused their favour. 

Awkwardly, both men left the noble behind and headed for Arthur’s chambers. 

“That was rough.” Merlin commented once they were far enough out of earshot. 

“You’re telling me.” Arthur muttered: that had been the sixth time someone had tried to give him their favour for the tourney and he was downright sick of it all. 

“I don’t understand, Sire,” Merlin asked, entirely aware of how many people had approached his King on the matter. “Why don’t you just accept or request someone’s favour and get the whole thing out of the way?” 

“Merlin, you know what wearing a favour during a tourney means. Honestly, how long have you lived here and been in my service now?” Arthur berated the man whilst rolling his eyes. 

To be honest, Arthur wouldn’t be surprised if Merlin had forgotten what wearing a favour as you fought meant: a promise to return the given item to its owner, to fight through a battle and win victorious, or to die with a token of knowing that someone cared for you enough that they wanted a piece of themselves with you in your final moments. All in all, a favour represented affection and even love. 

It made sense for Arthur to refuse everyone’s favours. 

“Yeah, yeah, bloody prat. I know what it means. I’m not that thick.” Merlin huffed, knocking the King in his side. 

“Sometimes that’s debatable.” Arthur shoved back at Merlin, physically and verbally. 

Merlin laughed and they continued to walk back, Arthur had thought that the conversation had been left, he needed it to be left. Yet Merlin seems to have this canny ability to always want to talk about the last thing that Arthur wants to talk about. 

“Okay, so you don’t want some random noble's favour, that’s understandable.” Merlin reasoned as they went up a curling staircase. “So, just fight without one.” 

For the rest of Arthur’s life, he would look back at this moment time and time again and still never be able to explain why he said what he said. He didn’t know what prompted him to be so honest, maybe it was just Merlin being Merlin or the internal countdown pressuring him. 

But none of those theories matter, because no matter the reason, Arthur clearly admitted to Merlin, “I don’t want to though.” 

Merlin froze in his gait, Arthur paused a moment later, a single step between them made Arthur feel as if they were hundreds of floors apart. 

Merlin looked up at him with a wide and shocked expression, and that look in his eyes that Arthur had never been able to pinpoint. 

“You like someone?” Merlin said the words that Arthur didn’t want him to say. 

The King’s silence only confirmed the Warlock’s question. 

A thousand emotions crossed Merlin’s face, so quickly that Arthur could barely register any of them. 

“Oh gods, you do, don’t you?” Merlin breathed out. 

He could do it. The final grains of sand were falling into the bottom of the hourglass, Arthur’s time was up. 

“There is… someone.” Arthur averted his eyes from Merlin. “And before you ask, no, I’m not going to ask to wear their favour, I know that they don’t feel the same.” 

It wasn’t much, but it was enough, Merlin knew that he has affections for someone, just not that those affections are directed at him. Slowly, Arthur was building up his courage, he could do it, but gods, Merlin was standing there just one step between them. It was Merlin, bloody infuriating Merlin, how could Arthur possibly say such things to his face? Perhaps if it was anyone else, things would be different, maybe Arthur would be more bold and confident in his thoughts and feelings: but things weren’t different and Arthur was in love with Merlin. 

“Why don’t you just wear mine?” 

Arthur almost broke his neck in meeting Merlin’s eyes. “Pardon?”

“C’mon, I’m your best friend,” Merlin shrugged as if he had just suggested nicking some food from the kitchens. “And if anyone asks, you can just say that you're fighting for magic.” 

Arthur baulked at Merlin’s words, gods if Merlin knew what he was trying to say Merlin would never have suggested that. 

“I… I cannot.” He fervently shook his head. “I won’t.”  

“Why not? I’m your best friend, and no one even has to know that it's mine.” Merlin was entirely unaware of Arthur’s internal mental breakdown. 

Merlin was looking up at him with such sweet eyes - twilight sky blue with small flecks of gold spattered inside his irises - and such an honest and kind smile that Arthur’s resolve and strength shattered. His chest was being ripped apart and he was letting Merlin see the truth. 

He took the single step down, mere centimetres separating them both. 

“But I'll know.” He had never spoken with such a terrified voice - not even to his own father - only Merlin could bring out such emotional extremes in him. “And if I wear it, I won’t be able to think of it as something between friends. I don’t think you’ll ever understand how much it would mean to me if you gave me your favour.” 

Merlin’s expression was frozen still from his gentle smile, but it was slowly melting away into something of confusion. “What are you saying?”

“Mer lin.” Arthur placed both hands on either of Merlin’s arms, commanding the Warlock’s entire attention. “I cannot wear your favour. Because if I wore your favour I would not be fighting for my friend .” 

If his heart beated any faster, he would probably have a heart attack. But he saw it finally register with Merlin. Confusion flickered into dawning realisation; Merlin’s brow raised into surprise; his eyes widened and his lips parted. And still those beautiful eyes never ceased in looking up at Arthur. 

“Oh… Me?” There was no tell which way Merlin’s tone was heading towards - positive or negative. But Arthur didn’t want to be there to find out which way Merlin would go. 

Arthur nodded and then said, “Please, just forget about everything I’ve said.” 

Arthur broke eye contact and was unable to meet Merlin’s eyes for another moment. 

It was silent. It was silent for barely even a second and Arthur thought it to be too unbearable, he turned - tail between his legs - and had to restrain himself to a walk as he left Merlin behind. His hand covered his mouth to keep him silent and his eyes remained tightly closed shut in order to not let his tears slosh down his face. 

Arthur might have finally acted and bravely faced the truth, but he had turned his back and shielded himself from Merlin’s rejection like a coward. Unlike Icarus who was unknowingly foolish in his free ecstasy, Arthur knew exactly what he was doing as he reached too far for the sun and allowed himself to be burnt by the flames of a broken heart. 

Now as he escaped Merlin’s piercing gaze from his back, he felt it: the sickening lurch as he hurtled down into heartbreak. 

Chapter Text

Merlin stared at the place that Arthur had disappeared from view. He stared hopelessly, standing on those steps, reeling from the maddeningly close proximity they had just been in. 

Slowly, his eyes fell down and as did his body. He shakingly sat down on the steps, bracing himself as if Arthur would come running back from upstairs and be laughing, saying that none of it was true: his King would never do that to him. Would he? 

His hands clutched the stone steps and he tried to keep his eyes in focus. Yet his mind was elsewhere. 

He had thought that giving Arthur his neckerchief as a favour was a risky idea, but he believed that he could play it off as simply a show of friendship and good relations between magic and the Kingdom. He just wanted one little selfish moment that he could keep for himself - a small mirage, a white lie - of something too good to be true. He just wanted to stand in that crowd, watching Arthur fight and be able to pretend for a second that they were adhering to tradition. 

But Arthur didn’t want that. 

Merlin stood up and began walking down the stairs, he covered his mouth to mask his sobbing cry that tried to escape his throat. 

Arthur wanted the same thing as Merlin does, but he didn’t want to pretend. 

Arthur wanted the same thing. He didn’t want to fight for Merlin as a friend or a show of unity: he wanted to fight for Merlin as other competitors would for the person who gave them a favour. 

Wearing a favour in tourney was a declaration of love. Arthur refused Merlin's favour as something between friends. 

Merlin wandered in a trance like state through the lower towns and down deep into his little part of the forest. He knelt to the ground, and simply sat there as the sun began to descend below the horizon - the trees and the flowers and the forest itself seemed to patiently wait for him to speak, to tell them why he was here. 

Not a single verbal word came to his mind. It was all just a mess of non-correlating sentences violently crashing together like ships in a storm. 

His heart told him to stand up and race for the castle and scream the truth at Arthur. Whereas his mind told him to take care and not rush anything, his next actions would decide so much. 

The wind blew through the trees, the leaves rustled and the streamed gurgled. 

Slowly but surely, Merlin felt his magic build up with purpose and intent. He brought his hands together, cupping against one another as if he were holding a butterfly or delicate flower. His magic pulsed through his veins and centred in his hands, pressure building up between his palms until an entirely new object forced his hands apart. 

In his open hands lay a red neckerchief embroidered with a golden switch - the shining lines creating a scene of the sky: day and night clashing together. 

He grinned and looked around him, the forest understood. 

“He’s in love with me.” Merlin whispered out. “And he thinks that I don’t feel the same.” 

Carefully, oh so carefully, Merlin neatly folded the magic forged neckerchief into his pocket. He wiped the tears that had just broken away from his eyes and smiled again. 

“I’m in love with him. And he’s in love with me.” 

At that moment, Merlin knew what he would do next. There were so many factors to all of this, it was difficult to put them in order. 

For one, Merlin had to give Arthur this new neckerchief - this favour - and tell the King his honest feelings. 

But as well, Arthur believed that he didn’t - couldn't - feel the same. How was that possible? Had he truly become so adept at hiding the truth, such vital parts of himself, that no one had ever thought to question anything else? First it was his magic, concealing that and then later revealing his feats of bravery to everyone as actions of duty and compassion. And though that was almost the truth, half the truth, it wasn’t the full truth. He has never done anything for the people, for the Kingdom, for Arthur because of the prophecy: it has been out of love. 

He has found true family in Camelot. He has found a home in these streets and walls. And he has found heart in a man he would do anything for. 

Everything about him has been for love. Of all the different kinds and types of love: that has been his motive behind everything. And it would continue to be. He just needs people to see that, because clearly they don’t. 

Merlin stood up, feeling on top of the world - on cloud nine. He smiled at the land around him and thought of what it would be like to share this space with Arthur, to just be two men and not a King and his protector, to just be them.

He bid goodbye to the dusk lit forest with a small grateful bow, overjoyed that it’s fauna hopefully would no longer have to bear witness to his grief and heartbreak. 

Magical favour in pocket, Merlin sprinted to the city, his magic urging him on and compelling him to speeds that seemed almost inhumane. As the city line steadily drew into view he slowed down into a normal jog, he couldn’t be seen as urgent or time limited because the citizens of Camelot had slowly started to associate that with danger and peril - he couldn't lead any of them on to believe that something was malicious was brewing when in fact it was the complete opposite. 

The first part of Merlin’s plan was the favour: the neckerchief. 

The second part was gaining knowledge. He arrived at Gwen’s cottage one road off the main street and aptly knocked on her door. 

“Hey, Gwen? Lance? You guys in?” He called out, slightly breathless. 

“Oh, Merlin! Come in!” He heard Gwen call out to him. It was getting late, it was summer after all, they were probably having dinner. 

Merlin swung the door open and stood in the doorway. 

“What’s up, mate?” Lancelot grinned at him from the table, he and Gwen sitting opposite each other - clearly half way through a meal. 

Merlin winced apologetically for interrupting them, but he was in the middle of a very serious matter, so he silently thanked that his two of his best friends are so kind (ignoring the fact that Arthur is obviously his bestest).

“Can I ask you guys a question? It’ll be dead quick.” 

“Yeah, of course.” Gwen smiled at him so sweetly. 

“Have you ever thought that I might have had feelings for someone? Like a crush or, well, love?” Merlin said it so offhandedly and casually that the couple did a double take on his question. 

“Uh…” Gwen said. 

“Wow.” Lance’s jaw dropped. 

The two looked at each other and then to Merlin: both speechless. Then Gwen said, “Not really, Merlin, I mean- You- Well- Uhm-” she stammered before clearing her throat and getting her words in order. “You’ve always been so busy since you came here to Camelot, I just assumed that you never had the time or well… the interest.” 

Merlin nodded - it was just as he thought. “Lance?” 

Lancelot was organised in his reply, he went fish-like for a few seconds, finally deciding on, “I used to think that you liked someone, but it seemed very unlikely.” 

The two men stared at each other for only a moment - sharing a mutual understanding. 

“Okay. Thanks.” Merlin nodded before promptly turning on his heel and sprinting out of the house and slamming the door behind him. 

“Wait, Merlin? Merlin!” Lance shouted after him. 

“What was that about?” Gwen stared at the now shut door, entirely confused. 

“I have no idea.” Lance half-lied. 

Merlin on the other hand was certain in his belief that he had hidden too much too well - he had to right that this instant. And he would start with the person who it mattered to the most. 

The third and final step of his plan was to effectively storm the castle, track down Arthur and declare his feelings and intentions to the blond prat. Merlin did just that, thankfully the people of the castle were much more accustomed to Merlin’s different running states and weren’t concerned as he ran at full pelt through the corridors with his eyes bright gold. 

Arthur was in his chambers. 

Merlin skidded to a halt, barely stopping himself from barging in like he normally would. This had to be calm and perfect and right - Arthur had always been unpredictable with his moods, he couldn’t risk going wrong from the beginning. 

With one hand over the pocket that held the favour, his other hand knocked on the door twice. 

He heard a soft “Enter.” and opened the door. 

Merlin slowly pushed the door open and looked for Arthur, finding his King’s eyes already on him. 

“Oh. Merlin.” Arthur was sitting at his desk, basking candlelight from in front of him on the desk and in moonlight behind him that was pouring through the windows. If you weren’t familiar with the King, you would most likely say that his tone was disappointed: but Merlin knows Arthur and he could hear how frightened he was. 

Arthur was surrounded by a clearly self-made mess of nagging work to complete. Merlin knows Arthur, he knows that the King had thrown himself into mountains of work to ignore and avoid thinking about their conversation on the spiral staircase. 

“My King.” Merlin said softly, smiling at Arthur from the doorway. He didn’t mix his expression with exasperation or annoyance, nor teasing or joking, he looked at his King with such clear love: anyone and everyone would understand the truth. 

It seemed too much for Arthur, though, he averted his gaze from Merlin and looked back down at the countless sheets of parchment and work. Merlin watched him swallow and deeply inhale. With the heel of his foot, Merlin kicked the door shut - Arthur flinched at the noise - and strode over to Arthur’s side. He placed one hand on the armrest of Arthur’s chair and the other slid over the length of the top of the backrest. 

Leaning directly into the King’s personal space, deep into the danger zone, Merlin could see every flicker of eyes that Arthur shot towards Merlin. Merlin took his hand from the arm rest, reaching into his pocket and taking out the neckerchief stitched from his own magic. 

“Arthur, please, look at me.” Merlin quietly begged him. 

Arthur threw away his quill, rubbing his eyes in exhaustion and to avoid looking at Merlin for a moment longer than necessary as he turned to face the warlock. 

“I…” Whatever it was that Arthur was about to struggle to say died on his lips the second his eyes landed on the red and gold stitched neckerchief that Merlin was holding out to him. “What is that.” 

It wasn’t a question, Arthur knew exactly what it was.  

“I will not wear that. I cannot.” Arthur closed his eyes and turned away in pain. 

“You will.” Merlin protested, trying to have his say on the matter but Arthur cut him off. 

“No, Merlin! I should never have told you, I didn’t want this to happen.” Arthur stood up and stalked over to the window, his back to Merlin, trying to ignore or avoid him. 

“Did you mean it? Or have you lied to me?” Merlin felt his heart dangerously come close to shattering. 

Arthur went tense: his posture straightened and his shoulders didn’t move. Merlin saw Arthur’s head bow down. 

“I would never say what I said and not mean it.” Arthur confessed quietly. “But my friendship with you means too much to me to be ruined because I cannot control my affections. And yet here you are acting out my worst fear,” Arthur vaguely gestured with his hand to Merlin. “You feel indebted to requite my feelings even though I know you truly don’t.” 

Merlin found irony in that moment. There Arthur stood, outlined by the light of the moon and Merlin once again was all too aware of the weight he bore in his chest for the King. The warlock looked down at the neckerchief, tracing his thumb along the stitching. 

“You’re such a stubborn clotpole.” Merlin said with no anger or hurt to his voice. He joined Arthur at the window, the King refusing to turn around. Merlin went to Arthur’s left and tied the neckerchief around Arthur’s bicep. “Just - for once in your life - listen to me? Please?” 

Arthur’s right hand crossed over himself and reached for the neckerchief, Merlin’s heart spiked in fear that he would rip it off but instead he just gently rested the tips of his fingers across the fabric. Because the neckerchief was made solely from Merlin’s magic, the golden embroidery shined as Arthur’s skin brushed against it. The King’s breath hitched for a moment as he stared at the neckerchief on his arm. 

His eyes met Merlin’s in a quick glance between the neckerchief. “I… I don’t understand.” 

Tears slithered from the corners of Arthur's eyes - a multitude of reasons he could be crying and Merlin was able to list them all. Merlin had his right hand on Arthur’s back, so with his left he placed his hand on Arthur’s cheek, wiping away half of Arthur’s tears with his thumb. 

“That’s my fault then,” Merlin whispered, wordlessly encouraging Arthur to look at him. “It’s not like I ever gave you a reason to think any differently.” 

Blue met blue.

“What?” Arthur breathlessly asked. 

“I don’t feel indebted to requite your feelings, Arthur,” Merlin didn’t dare look away, the thought never even crossed his mind. “To be entirely honest, it’s the other way around.” 

Arthur’s tears and confused expression were lit up by the glow of the moon - Merlin felt relief that it was under the moon he realised he was in love and now it was under the moon that his love was being told and acknowledged. 

“I’ve treated it as a better kept secret than my own magic,” Merlin admitted. “I never once thought, until today, that anything would happen. It seemed impossible.” 

Arthur’s eyes were slowly widening in realisation. “What seemed impossible?” His tone was near hopeful. 

“For so many years, I have lived with the understanding that you would never love me back,” Merlin only just then noticed how close they were, but it seemed fitting. “How long have I been wrong?” 

Arthur turned to entirely face Merlin, his hand sliding away from the neckerchief on his own arm to Merlin’s shoulder at the base of his neck. He looked so nervous that Merlin almost found it endearing. 

“I don’t think you’ve ever been right.” Arthur replied. “But I can say for certain that you’ve been wrong for these many past months. Ever since your magic and the real you came to light… I just knew.” Arthur held Merlin’s face in both hands, the warlock savoured the tender embrace and prayed that this might just be the first of thousands. “Merlin, son of Hunith and Balinor, Emrys, my protector, and Camelot’s greatest warrior. I love you, everything that you have been, will be, and currently are.”

Merlin grinned, bashful and hopeful and happy, he slid his arms around Arthur’s waist and pulled him in close. 

“I love you, Arthur, to the point that loving you has become so ingrained to me that no one would recognise me if I wasn’t.” Merlin said with no hesitation or fear. There was no longer the belief of danger looming over him with their interaction. 

Arthur pulled them both in a tight hug, they both closed their eyes and unknowingly smiled giddily in disbelief that this was happening. 

Gods, this is happening, Merlin thought, This is really actually happening.  

It didn’t feel very real, to be holding Arthur so closely and hearing such sweet words. After so many years of holding back and putting on a smile as if to say that everything is perfectly splendid - Merlin just wanted to break down into pieces. Never once did he expect to have this. He didn’t dare to. So now, actually receiving it, he barely knew what to do. 

Except cry. 

Merlin cried. 

A lot. 

“Merlin?” Arthur immediately asked in concern. “Hey, Merlin? What’s wrong?” 

The warlock partially pulled away from Arthur, still holding him, and looked up at his King. And there Arthur was, with such opened and unmasked worry and concern and love. That red and gold embroidered favour resting on his arm.

Merlin, through his tears, smiled at what he now has, and then sunk against his King’s shoulder. 

“You- You wear that b-bloody favour tomorrow.” He managed to cry out. “For the ent-ire tournament.” 

Arthur wrapped one arm over Merlin’s back and placed his other hand on the nape of Merlin’s neck, understanding what he has and what he must do. Five years is a very long time to believe that the person you're in love with doesn’t love you back.

Unbeknownst to Merlin, Arthur made a silent promise to make up for every moment that he could have unknowingly hurt Merlin, he would spend the rest of his life telling and showing Merlin just how much he thoroughly adored and loved the man.

“I will.” He solemnly vowed. 

“And- And- And at next year’s. And- And the year after t-that. And every year after that.” Merlin was holding onto Arthur incredibly tightly, his voice ruthlessly wavering with each syllable. He hated how little control he now had over himself, it all just came out in gigantic mess - he had no intentions of telling Arthur this: but he just had. 

“I promise.” And Arthur said that with all honesty. 

To Merlin’s surprise, Arthur pressed a kiss to his head, took Merlin by his hands and gently guided Merlin to sit down on the desk chair. Then Arthur knelt down like a knight would when accepting the responsibility of a great task. Something never felt so right as simply holding Arthur’s hands, they had held hands hundreds of times before but it was in fleeting moments or when they were messing around - this was different: a good difference. 

“I’m scared that I’m gonna cock this up somehow.” Merlin admitted, unnerved by Arthur’s unwavering gaze. “Whatever this is.” 

Somehow Arthur shuffled closer to Merlin on his knees, giving a short squeeze to his hands. 

“This?” He asked. 

Merlin sniffed and attempted to wipe his face dry. “Us. What are we now? Do we keep on being friends? Because I- I-” He paused and shook his head. “I don’t think I can keep going on as I have been, it’ll hurt too much to.” 

Arthur nodded with a kind smile. “I want the same, I can’t go back to pretending that I’m not in love with you. And I do want to keep being friends, but in a way that it is the basis of our relationship: something we build from and make as more. I…” Arthur trailed off nervously. The King took a deep breath and mustered up some courage. “I want to court you, Merlin.” 

For several seconds, Merlin stopped breathing, the air had simply vanished from his lungs. He had imagined this scenario for years, but that was all he allowed it to be: a figment of his imagination. So you must understand what Merlin was feeling when he heard Arthur utter those fateful words. 

“Court me?” Merlin repeated. 

“Yeah.” Arthur responded in a timid fashion as if he was worried about how Merlin would reply. 

How on the Goddess’ earth could Merlin refuse such a request? He leaned forward, mere inches away from Arthur, looking down at the man with a teasing smirk. “As in… wooing me?” 

“Yes.” Arthur confirmed seriously. It would have been far too easy to mix him up with a Knight accepting a quest than a man bearing his heart to another. 

Merlin chuckled with a snigger, “You want to woo me. Arthur-” He broke off to laugh again. “I know what you ‘wooing’ looks like…” 

Arthur looked away, embarrassed as both of them knew exactly what Merlin was referring to: all the times that the then Prince had tried to impress a visiting noblewoman; Elena and Mithian for example. And then all of the times that Arthur had been under a love spell and made a fool of himself. 

The King then re-met Merlin’s gaze, he rose from his knees, placing either of his hands on the armrests thus trapping Merlin in his seat. 

“Those times were different. They weren’t you.” Arthur said, seriously. “I wasn’t in love with them and didn’t know them properly. But if I were to woo you, I’d know exactly what to do.” He leaned in close, taunting Merlin. Merlin could see every detail in his King’s iris’: that was how close Arthur was. “What to say. Where to take you. What I’d give you.”

Merlin didn’t really know where to look because everywhere was Arthur. He couldn’t even let his eyes slip down because if he did he would catch sight of underneath Arthur’s shirt. Of course the King had to be wearing the one frustratingly loose shirt that exposed his entire chest when leaning over - it’s Merlin's favourite and most hated of Arthur’s clothes. 

Such a torrid temptation. And now Arthur knows that. His King smirked. Arthur was challenging him, like always they were playing a game with each other. Pushing each other further and for better. 

“Give me?” Merlin met Arthur’s challenge, obviously. The King wanted to tease and flirt, well then, he would be flirted with and teased back. 

“I’d give you anything, Merlin, anything you want.” Arthur whispered. 

Fucking hell. How could Merlin even think of resisting that? 

“Give me a kiss?” Merlin said, trying to make it seem like a bit of a joke to downplay his request and fear of rejection. 

“Gladly.” Arthur replied instantly with no hesitation. 

And Arthur kissed him. Just like that. It was that simple. A single sweet kiss. Something Merlin had thought and dreamed about for years. And he had just been given it so easily. 

Arthur pulled away after a moment and Merlin wanted to reach for the King’s lips to see if they were also burning. Merlin looked up at Arthur and remembered that everything leading up to this hadn’t been easy: loving Arthur hadn’t been easy, it had hurt. And now here they are, now Merlin has Arthur. But it was worth it.

“We’re courting.” Merlin confirmed, nearly dazed. 

Arthur grinned in a way that Merlin wanted to be able capture this moment forever and steal it away so that no one else would ever have it. It was his, and his alone. 

Now it was Merlin’s turn to have a predatory look in his eyes that made the King waver. 

Merlin placed his hands on Arthur’s shoulders, stood up and took the King with him. He guided Arthur the few steps backwards until Arthur hit the desk. Thankfully, Arthur took the initiative and sat on the desk, he then grabbed Merlin by the waist and dragged the warlock in between his legs. 

They proceeded to thoroughly snog each other breathless. Arthur’s hands were in Merlin’s hair keeping them close together as Merlin's hands ran along Arthur’s thighs and back. Tongues twisted together. Their lips hardly separated and both men forgot the world that surrounded them. It all just fell away. It was only them. 

And neither could complain because the other was all that mattered. 

Arthur took a handful of Merlin’s hair at the base of Merlin’s neck and tightly pulled ever so slightly, the warlock groaned in response and had to pull away. 

Panting for air, Merlin observed Arthur in a lustful trance. Arthur’s pupils were beautifully blown up with his lips bitten red. His low cut tunic was rumpled and askew. The moonlight that wasn’t blocked by the outline of Merlin’s shadow framed his King enchantingly. This was all because of Merlin, he had done this to Arthur and was now allowed to do this again. 

He had a taste, like the most addictive drug out there, Merlin was hooked, he just wanted more. 

“There’s something else that I want.” 

“Go on.” Arthur said, still catching his breath as he played with Merlin's hair. 

The feeling of Arthur’s hands tracing circles and patterns into the back of his head was something that Merlin wanted to never end, he leaned into the touch and closed his eyes. Arthur chuckled, amused. 

“I want people to know that I love you.” Merlin was too distracted when he said it. 

Arthur paused and focused his entire attention on what Merlin was saying.  

Bringing himself back to the present, Merlin opened his eyes and took a small step away from Arthur, just enough so that the King’s hands couldn’t distract him any further. To keep some physical contact between them, Merlin put his hands on Arthur’s knees, spreading his palms around the King’s legs; it was too soon to let Arthur go. 

“Because on the staircase… you thought that I wouldn’t love you back.” Merlin went on to say. “And I got worried that you weren’t the only one who thought that. I mean- I know I hid it well, but it really scared me that people didn’t even consider that I would love you in this sense.” He was starting to work himself up to a silly amount, Arthur’s concerned eyes being the only factor keeping him grounded. “So I went to Lance and Gwen and I asked them if they’ve ever thought that I’ve ever had a romantic interest in someone. They said that it never seemed likely. Which is just-” 

Merlin had to force himself to stop. He was holding onto Arthur’s legs too tightly, he had to let go; he was breathing too rapidly; his magic was probably going to go crazy if he wasn’t careful. He could feel his magic fill the room; the candle’s flames were climbing unnaturally high; things were floating; and there was a thick golden cloud that was swirling around the room. He hadn’t lost control like this in months, the last time being in a poor situation regarding an assassin with a big mouth. When he had come to his senses, the assassin’s neck was broken. 

He removed his hands from Arthur’s knees and onto the desk, placing them on either side of the King, his head fell forward into Arthur’s chest. 

“It’s so stupid.” Merlin pathetically muttered, shaking his head. “I thought I was so obvious about loving you, I used to be so scared of people realising the truth.” 

“You told no one before?” Arthur asked. 

“No. Not even Gaius,” Merlin sighed. “I just… I expected pity from any of them if I did tell them. And that was the last thing I wanted.”

He took a deep breath and felt his magic reign back in, he opened his eyes and lifted his head to Arthur looking down at him with a golden hue quickly dimming over his features, leaving the ghostly illumination of the moon left. 

“Have- Have you told anyone?” 

Arthur didn’t answer Merlin’s question immediately, silently telling Merlin that he could never hurt Arthur with his magic by running a hand through the warlock’s hair with a smile. Merlin accepted with no protest, leaning into the touch. 

Finally, Arthur answered, “Apparently, I wasn’t very subtle in front of other people. Leon guessed and then consoled me as I… cried over you.” The King winced. “And Gwen heard. And joined us. And apparently other people have thought the same. About me at least. Which is ridiculous because I’m probably the most emotionally constipated person in Camelot - according to Gwaine - and you’re so open about your feelings with people.” He then pulled back and held Merlin at arms length. “They’re all idiots. And I’m an idiot as well for not seeing. But I see now, Merlin, I see.” 

“I just want people to know.” Merlin sighed defeatedly. 

Arthur then had this pensive and thoughtful expression dawn across his face before he burst into a massive smug grin. 

“What?” Merlin demanded, immediately concerned for his sanity and safety.  

“I’ve got a plan.” Arthur said like a cat that just got the cream. 

“Go on.” Given the context, Merlin was curious. 

“Tomorrow at the tourney I will wear my armour and helmet, no one will know who I am unless I lose or win at the very end.” Arthur explained. 

“We both know you’ll win.” Merlin rolled his eyes.

“Exactly.” Arthur said - not arrogantly. “That’s why at the beginning of the tourney I want you - in front of everyone - to give me your favour for me to wear throughout the entire tournament. And then, when I win, I will take off my helmet, reveal my identity and return your favour to you.” He raised his eyebrows, impressed at his own plan. “Then I’ll most likely kiss you senseless. How does that sound?” 

He was then arrogant and aloof, with a smug smirk, pleased with his proposed plan. And rightly so, it was a perfect plan of showing everyone that they’re wrong whilst easily announcing their new relationship.

Merlin grinned, blatantly staring up at Arthur’s lips. “Like I’m going to kiss you senseless right now.” 

“I’m up for that.” Arthur said whilst smiling, it might’ve been a trick of the light but Merlin swore that his King’s cheeks were red. The King cocked his chin up, raising his brows with a smirk, daring Merlin to act. 

That was them, pushing each other further, a forever game of give and take. And right now, all Merlin wanted to do was give and give and give. He reached up onto his toes and pulled Arthur in close with one hand on Arthur’s lower back, and proceeded to fulfil his word. 

“Okay, you’re definitely doing the senseless kissing.” Arthur gasped out between moments. 

Merlin chuckled, finding an unending source of excitement for tomorrow. 

“I think I need this back.” He said, placing his hand over his favour on Arthur’s arm.

“Absolutely not,” Arthur scoffed, shielding his arm protectively from Merlin. “I’m keeping this till the last moment.”

There was something truly freeing about standing in a crowd and no one knowing who you are. Arthur was walking through the tourney grounds covered head to toe in armour and the only recognition he received from people was that he was going to be fighting soon. He just had to find Merlin and then he would go to the arena. 

Merlin was standing just where he said he would be; with Guinevere and several other servants. There were a few knights loitering around them and it wouldn’t take a genius to guess that they were Leon, Lancelot, Gwaine, Elyan and Percival. 

Arthur walked straight for Merlin, catching the Court Warlock’s eyes. Merlin’s eyes flickered for just a moment, the golden flash being caught by no one but Arthur. Merlin grinned in a way that told Arthur and everyone present that he was insurmountably happy. Gwen turned in Arthur’s direction, following Merlin’s gaze and frowned when she saw a knight with a helmet approach them. Guinevere and the servants parted for the approaching masked knight, they all stared at the secret King with curiosity and bewilderment, briefly catching that Arthur was paying no attention to them and only to Merlin. 

Just as they had discussed the previous night, Arthur knelt down in front of Merlin without saying a word. Through the slits of his helmet, Arthur watched Merlin smile down at him, and it certainly did not evade his notice of how red the Warlock’s ears were. 

Merlin untied his neckerchief, the one he had specifically crafted for Arthur. The King-Knight stood up and Merlin broke into a grin, holding the favour in hand. Forget tourneys, Arthur would go through countless battles just to have the grin shot in his direction. Shaking his head at Arthur fondly, Merlin gestured for Arthur to turn slightly so that he could tie the favour around his upper arm. 

He stared at the newly adorned favour before quickly turning to Merlin, he took the Warlock’s hand and bowed: he would have kissed Merlin’s hand if it weren’t for his helmet. They were courting after all, Merlin deserved the proper treatment of being the King’s 

Merlin chuckled and bid him good luck, much to the confusion of the surrounding servants and stunned spectators that were watching the two of them. Arthur’s shoulders shook with amusement as he weaved his way through the countless squires and servants and attendants that were rushing about, he saw other masked knights that were competing today head for the arena. 

All of the competitors were standing in a line along the lane partition in the arena, Arthur was somewhere in the middle. He felt somewhat mischievous at the fact that he was standing there in plain sight, no one knew that it was him who was the King - only aware that someone amongst them was the ruler of the land. 

The tournament proceeded beautifully. An announcer called out each round with the aliases that the contestants were using, and everyone was paired off together. Category after category, Arthur succeeded with flying colours in archery, spear throwing, hand to hand combat. Arthur won against every person thrown against him: with each victory it was Merlin’s cheers he heard loudest. 

Merlin was grinning for the entire day. He watched Arthur fight in a tourney and for the first time he wasn’t stressing every second of it, terrified that the man was going to actually get killed - the spells he had put in place to stop cheating and foul play were either working wonderfully or for the first time people weren’t trying to use this as an opportunity to kill Arthur. 

Alongside watching Arthur fight, Merlin was - somehow - managing to successfully avoid giving away Arthur’s identity to Gwen and the others. In the final category and last round, there were two fighters left: Arthur and who Merlin assumed to be Gwaine. All the other knights had joined him and Gwen, and were set on pestering Merlin for the truth. He didn’t budge. He just calmly watched the two knights get into position on their horses and ready their respective lances. 

“C’mon, Merlin, you’ve got to tell us, who’s the knight?” Lance begged for the billionth time. 

“Remember when I came to you last night?” Merlin asked, still not allowing his eyes to stray. Lancelot nodded and then his eyes slowly widened in realisation. 

“Holy fuck.” The Noblest of Knights eloquently put. Merlin chuckled.

A bell was rung to signal ‘GO!’ and the two finalists shot after each other, their horses spurred down the length of the arena, their lances aimed at their opponent’s chest. Both contestants seemed perfectly matched in skill, it seemed like both knights would get thrown off their horses. As if they would both lose. 

They met in the middle and Arthur’s opponent flew from his horse. Arthur had won and Merlin was yelling like a madman in elation. The loser of the jousting match was helped up, his helmet was taken off to reveal an extremely dishevelled Gwaine, looking rather dazed, whilst Merlin’s victor’s helmet was thrown off to the side as the winner rode up and down the length of the arena: revealing a joyous King grinning at his citizens, holding his lance high up in the air in victory. The crowd roared with applause at their King’s win: a clear example of Camelot’s ‘Golden Age’ and the Kingdom’s strength under Arthur’s rule. 

Gwen made a strangled sound of shock and slowly turned to Merlin with wide eyes. Merlin couldn’t hide his excited grin, his eyes never leaving Arthur’s figure. 

“When? How?!” She spluttered. 

“I’ve been in love with him for years, Gwen, but no one’s ever noticed.” Merlin shrugged. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a king to go congratulate.” 

Ignoring his friends' spluttering and calling for his name, Merlin raced down from the stands and to where all of the competitors and squires and such were. He stood at the gate of the arena, catching Arthur’s eye with a proud grin as the King trotted by. Merlin leaned back against the gate and smiled softly. 

Arthur handed his lance to an attending squire and the reins to stablegirl. Merlin watched like a falcon as Arthur undid the buckles of his gauntlets, he saw the King’s head immediately turn in his direction after passing over the pieces of armour to a random servant. Their eyes met and Arthur grinned. 

Forgoing the rest of his armour, Arthur walked straight for Merlin with a lopsided smile, his eyes on no one else. Merlin crossed his arms, he had gone after the King enough as it was: now he was making the King have to come to him. 

“I believe I’m meant to give this back to you.” Arthur said once he was close enough, gesturing to the neckerchief tied around his arm. 

Merlin rolled his eyes in an exasperated manner, yet it didn’t hide how enflamed his cheeks or ears were. He shrugged at Arthur, “It was a gift, keep it.” 

Arthur nodded with a soft smile, knowing that he would keep the neckerchief on him at all times from that point onwards. He stopped in front of Merlin, toe to toe. 

“Any other gifts I might receive? I did win the tournament after all.” He teased with a raised eyebrow, he leaned in close to Merlin, once again  daring the Warlock to act. 

Merlin’s expression softened, it was the kind of look that created a shortness of breath and lightheadedness for the King: the kind that made any nosey spectators want to turn away out of acknowledgment that what they were witnessing was too intimate and private for their eyes. 

It was the kind of look that you’d have to be a fool to call it anything else other than love. 

“Hm, one does come to mind.” Merlin said quietly, just for the two of them, as he stood up straight. Merlin adjusted the plates of Arthur’s armour, maddeningly - no longer dangerously - close to the King. 

Arthur whispered back a hopeful, “Yeah?” 

His eyes closely followed every move and change in Merlin’s face and body, he couldn’t and would not look away from the man. This wasn’t enchantment, this sort of reaction could not be faked, Arthur was looking at Merlin like a man utterly gone head over heels in love. Maybe later, Arthur would bask in watching everyones’ expressions at seeing how Merlin looked at him, but later though.

“Mhm.” Merlin nodded. He grabbed the collar of Arthur’s armour with both hands, smirked, and then spun them around, shoving Arthur against the gate. Merlin then leaned in, Arthur meeting him much more than half way, and kissed him breathlessly. 

Arthur was on cloud fucking nine, one hand held the back of Merlin’s head and the other rested on Merlin’s waist. He forgot that he was in his armour, he forgot that he was standing on the side of the arena, he forgot that he was the King and had just won the tournament. The only thing capable of occupying his mind was that Merlin was kissing him, his lips on Arthur’s. Holy bloody fuck, goddamn, praise the Goddess herself. 

It ended far too soon in Arthur’s opinion. They parted. Both their chests’ rising and falling rather quickly, they didn’t pay a single thought or bit of attention to the gobsmacked people that were staring at them in shock. 

“Are you going to stand there all day, My King,” Merlin said with a wicked smile. “Or are you going to get out of your armour?“”

“What are you implying, Merlin?” Arthur flirted back, raising an eyebrow at the obvious suggestion. 

“That you need a bath because you’ve just fought through an entire tourney and now smell.” Merlin replied impudently, crossing his arms in challenge. He then turned around and walked off. 

Arthur’s jaw dropped at the insult and scoffed at Merlin’s audacity - the basics of their relationship hadn’t changed. But then Merlin stopped, turned around and smirked at him, that was when Arthur knew that something new was going to happen. 

“And maybe if you’re quick enough I might join you.” Merlin added smugly, he turned on his heel and continued walking away. 

Arthur’s jaw dropped for a second time: if human beings were capable of spontaneous combustion, Arthur would be dead. He would be so dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. He barely heard or paid attention to the gasps of shock and snickers that rippled through the servants and knights that were watching them. He shook his head and jogged after the smug idiot. 

Arthur slid his arms around Merlin’s waist and swept him up, entirely catching Merlin off guard as he spun them both around. 

“Ghah! Arthur!” Merlin exclaimed, looking over his shoulder and glaring at the blond. “Put me down!” 

“Shan’t.” The King laughed in amusement at the face Merlin was pulling.

“You’re such a prat!” Merlin huffed, trying to wriggle out of the suspended hold, his legs kicking about in the air- forgetting that he was a very powerful warlock and could use magic to escape the King’s hold. 

“This is just part of me wooing you, Merlin. Expect this as part of our courtship.” Arthur grinned at him and planted a sweet kiss on Merlin’s cheek. 

Merlin rolled his eyes and muttered whilst holding back a giddy smile, “You are so lucky I love you.” 

“Believe me, I know that I’m the luckiest man alive.” Arthur smirked, setting back down onto the ground whilst looking at Merlin so endearingly the Warlock had to suppress the urge to pinch himself.

It seemed hardly real for either man, but the sky was as clear as the truth between them and everyday that followed them was beautiful no matter the weather was or how dark the nights would get, they had each other and it was worth more to them than anything.