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The first time Arthur met Merlin, it was in the middle of the night.
Arthur was pouring over some documents at his desk—or trying to at least. His vision was blurry, and he knew he should go to sleep soon, but he just wanted to get through this last document, just finish the page, and then he would be done…
Before he knew it, he must've fallen asleep, because there was a clang and a thump, and Arthur was jumping up from his desk and blinking sleep from his eyes as he took in the scene before him with wide, unbelievable eyes. Two men were grappling on the ground, one with a small dagger and blood running down the side of his face, the other with a sword that was inching ever closer to the other man’s throat. Arthur grabbed his sword, hovering with uncertainty as the two rolled around, unsure of what the hell was going on and which one he was supposed to point his sword at. Finally, the man with the dagger managed to gain some leverage, stabbing the other man in the stomach and then using his own sword to knock him unconscious.
Panting hard, the man stood up, giving a breathless nod to Arthur.
“What the hell?” Arthur asked, raising his sword as he worked on shoving his instinctual panic down. “Who are you?”
“I'm Merlin,” the man panted, out of breath and leaning against the bed frame. He wiped his hand across his forehead, and then frowned at his hand when it came away sticky with blood. “I— I’m Gaius’s apprentice.”
“And what—” Arthur jerked his chin at the bleeding unconscious man on the ground, who would surely be dead soon if not attended to quickly— “is this?”
“He was trying to kill you,” Merlin said, standing up fully and frowning down at the man. The breaths of man on the ground were becoming more labored by the second.
“So you thought the best course of action was to take him on yourself ?” Arthur gritted out, sword still raised, and still not sure what the hell was really going on. Merlin turned to him with a disapproving look.
“No, you idiot,” Merlin defended, shocking Arthur. “I was trying to tell somebody, but it's the middle of the night, and nobody is awake. So I thought I would let the guards standing at your door know, since I'm sure you always have some posted around here, being royalty and all, but they were already… indisposed.”
Making sure not to turn his back to Merlin, Arthur went to the door and peeked out. Indeed, there were the figures of his knights lying prone on the ground. He turned back to Merlin’s amused smile.
“And how do I know that you didn't knock them out and the one trying to kill me?” Arthur asked suspiciously.
“Because then you would be dead by now,” Merlin laughed. And then he kept laughing, and laughing, tears coming to his eyes. Arthur watched in shock as this man, tall and lanky and obviously slightly delirious, laughed about the assassination of the crown prince as if it were the funniest thing in the world.
When Merlin’s laughter finally died down, he said, “Sorry. It’s been kinda a long night, and I think I might need some sleep more than I thought.”
Giving Arthur a smile, he started walking towards the door. Arthur finally sheathed his sword.
“Merlin,” he called, and Merlin stopped, looking over his shoulder with curious blue eyes. “Thank you.”
Merlin’s returning grin was bright and sloppy, and it took up his entire face. “Of course,” he said, shrugging a little. “Anytime.”
“You did a good thing tonight,” Arthur said, nodding. “But please, don't ever try to save me from an assassination again.” He frowned at the scene around him, weapons and blood everywhere. “You made a right mess.”
Merlin only laughed, and even after he had left and Arthur had called out the guards, Arthur still heard his laugh ringing in his ears, and his heart thumping in his chest.
— — — — —
The second time Arthur met Merlin, it was right after training.
Arthur was leaving the armory, a smile on his face from a joke one of the knights had just made, when a hand tugged on his arm and pulled him down a different hallway.
Arthur’s surprise at being grabbed only grew when he saw the back of Merlin’s head, his black hair unruly. Arthur stopped and dug his heels in, pulling Merlin up short.
“Merlin,” Arthur said, eyeing the man warily, unsure of what brought this on. “What is the meaning of this?”
“What do you think?” Merlin asked him dryly, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes, well, you can't exactly just drag the prince of Camelot around at your will,” Arthur said, raising his own eyebrow. Merlin let out a sigh and raised his hands.
“Fine, I won't drag you. But excuse me for trying to help , your highness ,” Merlin drawled out, filling the title with an incredible amount of sarcasm.
“You can't address me like that, Mer lin,” Arthur retorted, feeling a smile tugging its way onto his face.
“Whatever you say, sire ,” Merlin retorted, a smile of his own on his face. He turned and continued walking, clearly expecting Arthur to follow. The nerve! A prince following around a mere peasant such as him without so much as a reason. And yet, Arthur found himself following Merlin all the way to Gaius’s chambers, eyeing the man with reluctant curiosity. Looking around the cluttered workshop, Arthur watched as Merlin quickly went over to a boiling pot and stirred it a few times.
“Where’s Gaius?” Arthur asked. Merlin put a lid on the pot and pulled it off the fire, letting the steaming potion cool.
“Gone to see a patient in the lower town,” Merlin grunted, adjusting the pot. “He won't be back for a while.”
Dusting his hands, Merlin straightened and turned towards Arthur and sighed.
“Someone else is trying to kill you,” he said. And the way he said it, so casually, without so much as an anxious or apologetic look, has Arthur grinning and biting down on a laugh.
“Is that so,” he mused. “I would've never guessed.”
Merlin rolled his eyes, but there was a smile on his face. Arthur sat down on one of the benches and motioned for Merlin to talk. Merlin’s expression dulled slightly, and his voice took on a somber and weary tone.
“It’s a magic user,” he said, watching Arthur. “Vowing to kill you and your father for what he did to his people.”
Arthur nodded slowly. It was not a necessarily uncommon occurrence, nor an unbelievable one. Over the years, Arthur had witnessed his fair share of sorcerers cursing the Pendragon name and all that it stood for, vowing for revenge and the death of their bloodline.
He wished that the screams of fear and pain that morphed into hatred had been enough for him to reconsider his father’s laws and strong words, but it took him years until he finally felt the glimmerings of doubt. And truly, it was only when Morgana came to him, asking for his trust and confidence as she poured forth the secret of her blossoming magic did he truly begin to wonder if things should be changed. Without her, he might have never realized that any contempt he held for magic stemmed from Uther’s poisonous beliefs and harsh, cold parenting skills. If they can be called parenting skills.
It took some time for Arthur to come to terms with his now absolute lack of trust in his father and newfound belief of magic as a tool and not an evil. The more he thought about magic and how it wasn't evil, the more he wondered about how it could work in the setting of everyday life, how it could be used to benefit the kingdom, and what lawful regulations would need to be put on it. He began to look into the history of a magical Camelot and records of sorcerers. He started planning for the reintroduction of magic by himself and away from the council—well, with Morgana’s help too, because how dare she mind her own business.
And with his planning, Arthur began to believe, not only in magic, but in the difference he could make for his kingdom.
“Well,” Arthur said slowly, “this will have to be handled delicately.”
“Meaning?” Merlin watched him carefully, gauging his reaction, obviously tentative about bringing up magic around a Camelot royal.
“My father will burn this sorcerer if he hears anything about it,” Arthur said, watching as a crease formed in Merlin’s forehead. “And I’m assuming that if you wanted that, you could’ve just went to the king with an accusation of magic.”
“As if he’d believe me,” Merlin snorted, but his face was a bit paler. “He's disguised himself as a noble.”
Arthur frowned. “That does complicate things.” He watched Merlin fidget for only a moment before sighing and leaning back. “Merlin, I don't want the man to die on the pyre as much as you do.” Merlin looked up, surprised and slightly panicked. Arthur gave him a reassuring smile. Merlin only watched him carefully. Arthur didn't blame him. Magic in Camelot, especially discussed around the royals, was a very dangerous thing. “We’ll need to find a way to take care of him ourselves.”
“We?” Merlin asked.
“Yes, Mer lin. Thought you'd be getting out of this, did you?”
Merlin sighed, over exaggeratingly. “It was worth a try, wasn't it?” He grinned. Arthur shook his head.
“So which noble-in-disguise wants to kill my father?”
Merlin grimaced slightly, going back over and crouching by the boiling pot and stirring it, eyeing Arthur out of the corner of his eye.
“Promise you won’t have me executed or something for trying to condemn a noble?” he asked, skepticism lacing his voice.
Arthur sighed, pretending to be put upon, but understanding his cautiousness. “Merlin, I promise on my title as heir prince to the throne of Camelot that I will not have you thrown in prison, or the stocks, or whatever other punishment you’re imagining for accusing a noble that I asked you to accuse. Now please, who is trying to kill me?”
Merlin sat back on his heels, and said, “That younger lord that keeps hanging around you, Lord Dickney or something or other.”
“Lord Digney’s son?” Arthur said, remembering the happy-faced boy who had been following him around like a puppy for the past few days.
“Yep, that's the one,” Merlin agreed, standing back up. He smiled at Arthur again, all suspicion and skepticism gone from his face once more. Something fluttered in Arthur’s stomach, and he wondered if he might be coming down with something.
“I'm assuming you have a plan?” Arthur questioned.
Merlin smirked. “Maybe. It depends. How willing are you to… hmm, bend the law a little?” Arthur raised an eyebrow at him. “Theoretically of course. Asking for a friend and all that.”
Arthur sighed, passing a hand over his face and holding back a laugh. “And what law will be bent, dare I ask?”
“Oh, only a few of them…” Merlin hummed, turning back towards the potion with a wicked smile and a gleam in his eye that only spoke of trouble. Arthur didn't even bother trying to hold back his laugh. Merlin could very well be his undoing before the sorcerer even had a shot at him.
“Dear lord,” Arthur murmured. He joined Merlin by the pot. “So explain your not-illegal plan to me.”
— — — — —
The third time Arthur met Merlin, it was an accident.
Arthur was walking down the hall, a blissful moment of silence, when he turned a corner and ran right into somebody. Steadying himself and the person he ran into, he first recognized a familiar mop of dark, curly hair.
“Hello, Merlin,” Arthur sighed. “I hope that—”
“Shh!!!” Merlin said, putting a finger to Arthur’s lips and dragging him down the hall and into an alcove, where he unceremoniously shoved both of them into the dark corner. The warmth from Merlin’s hands seeped through Arthur’s clothes where they lay resenting on his arms, leaving him feeling slightly tingly. Arthur cleared his throat.
“ Mer lin, what's the meaning—”
Merlin clapped his hand over Arthur’s mouth, and Arthur’s eyes widened, fighting his automatic response to lick Merlin’s hand. Merlin shifted to peek around the corner, moving so that his side was pressed into Arthur’s chest. He could hear his heartbeat and the warmth radiating from Merlin, creating a warm flush on his face.
“Merlin!” He shoved Merlin’s hand off his mouth. “Are we hiding from someone?”
“What does it look like?” Merlin asked, still watching around the corner.
“Who—”
Merlin’s hand was back on his mouth, and a flurry of footsteps echoed through the hallway. Merlin pulled his head back in, a giddy smile on his face as he shoved himself and Arthur as far back in the small alcove as possible. Arthur could smell Merlin’s hair, and he started to consider whether or not he was claustrophobic, since his heartbeat and breathing just kept getting higher.
Once the footsteps passed, Merlin pulled away, and Arthur was left feeling cold.
“Merlin,” Arthur bit out. “Who were we hiding from?”
Merlin smiled brightly, if not a little sheepishly, at him. “The cook?”
Arthur blinked. “The cook.” Merlin nodded. “Why were we hiding from the cook?”
“Because I have pastries?” Merlin offered as an answer, holding out a bundle that did indeed hold several pastries. Arthur stared in shock at Merlin, who only looked slightly embarrassed by his actions, but mostly proud.
“Well,” Arthur started, “I hope you're planning on sharing those.”
Merlin laughed and gave Arthur a surprised look before shaking his head.
“Not a chance.”
And then Merlin plopped onto the ground and laid his spoils out in front of him. Arthur sat down next to him, leaning against the opposite wall, and feeling rather squished in the small alcove. Merlin bit into one of the pastries and made a moaning noise that had Arthur feeling warm and tingly again.
“This is so good,” Merlin said, taking another bite and closing his eyes. Arthur took advantage of this and snagged one of the pastries, taking his own bite. He followed Merlin’s example and closed his eyes, leaning back and biting back on a moan of his own, but not quite managing.
“You're right,” Arthur agreed. “These are delicious.”
“Oi! That was my pastry!” Merlin complained, laughing as Arthur took another bite, relishing in the sweet, tangy filling against the buttery bread.
“Not anymore,” Arthur said indignantly. “These were made specifically for the royal family, so by all rights, these pastries belong to me. You're lucky I'm gracious enough of a leader to let you eat them in my presence.”
“You? A gracious leader?” Merlin asked innocently, exaggerated confusion on his face. Arthur arched his brow at him and nudged at his leg. Merlin just laughed and dug back into his pastry with gusto. Arthur followed suit, closing his eyes again as he took another delicious bite. He was feeling quite like a young boy, what with the sweets and giddy feeling in his chest.
He opened his eyes to see Merlin watching him closely and with a lopsided grin on his face.
“What?” Arthur asked around a mouthful of pastry.
“You've, ah,” Merlin laughed. “You've got something on your face.”
Arthur blinked. “I do? Where?”
“Uhh,” Merlin laughed, watching in amusement as Arthur tried brushing all over his face. “Just, here, let me—”
Merlin leaned forward, and Arthur froze as Merlin brushed his fingers against Arthur’s chin, dusting away the crumbs.
“Really, how did you manage before me?” Merlin teased, a soft laugh escaping him.
“I managed just fine,” Arthur snorted. “Besides, you’re not much better yourself. You've got crumbs covering half of your face.”
“Really? Where—”
Merlin cut off as Arthur reached up to brush the crumbs from Merlin’s face. They really were everywhere. He smiled, laughing at how truly ridiculous Merlin was as his fingers brushed along Merlin’s cheeks and chin. It was only when his thumb caught the corner of Merlin’s lips and he saw Merlin’s throat bob that he looked up at Merlin, right into those gorgeous blue eyes. He hadn't noticed how blue they were. Merlin’s ocean-blue gaze flickered, down to his lips and back up, his breath fanning over Arthur’s face in a blossoming warmth. He let his hand still, now all but cupping Merlin’s face as he seemed to be drawn incrementally closer into Arthur’s space.
“You have the poison?” a voice just outside the alcove said, their voice gruff hushed.
Both Arthur and Merlin froze, their eyes wide. Arthur let his hand drop from Merlin’s face with a pang of disappointment. He wasn't quite sure what he had been planning on doing, but it just occurred to him that it was probably something inappropriate. Something that left his insides twisted, and not necessarily in an unpleasant manner.
“Yeah, I got it. It was no problem getting it into the castle. And I’ll be able to slip it into tonight’s dinner, easy,” another voice says. This one sounds younger.
“Can you get it into Uther and Arthur’s meals, though?” the gruff voice asked.
“It’ll be a little trickier, but I can manage,” the younger voice said.
“Good. Now hurry along, we wouldn't want anyone to catch us.”
Footsteps echoed through the hall, the sound slowly receding. As soon as the sound vanished completely, Merlin gave Arthur a tentative smile.
“Guess we just can't meet without somebody wanting to kill you, can we?” he asked, teasing, although Arthur didn't miss the slight strain to his voice. Arthur didn't exactly have to force his responding laugh, but it certainly had to be encouraged. He straightened up and offered a hand to Merlin.
“I guess we can't,” he agreed.
— — — — —
By the fourth time Arthur met Merlin, Arthur was expecting it. Maybe even hoping for it. So when he was shaken awake in the middle of the night, he was almost not surprised to see Merlin’s blue eyes watching him.
“Merlin, what the hell,” he grumbled, rubbing his eyes.
“Sorry,” Merlin winced. “I know you said to let you know if there was a problem, but it was late, so I wanted to let you sleep. I've seen you around the castle, and recently you've looked all but dead on your feet. Figured I could take care of it, couldn't be too bad, but it got a little out of hand, and—”
“Merlin,” Arthur interrupted his rambling, sitting up leaning over to get a better look at the other man. “Merlin, you're bleeding.”
And he was. There was a dark stain on the side of his tunic underneath where Merlin’s hand was pressed against his side. Merlin grimaced.
“Yes, like I said, things got a little out of hand,” Merlin said again.
“We need to get you to Gaius,” Arthur said, pulling back his blanket and throwing his legs over the side of the bed, biting back a surge of panic.
“No, really, I need you to listen—”
“You're wounded, Merlin,” Arthur pointed out, trying to get him to stand. “You can tell me on the way.”
He managed to get Merlin standing before Merlin gave him a shove that landed Arthur on his bed. He looked up in shock as Merlin winced, lowering his arm slowly as the stain of blood grew darker.
“Sorry!” Merlin ran a hand over his face and sighed. “But things really got out of hand.”
“Explain,” Arthur demanded, voice hard. Merlin winced again, and he sat down.
“I tried to take care of them myself, or at least figure out what they were up to, but I got too close. They caught me listening. Listen, Arthur, this time it really is a noble.” Merlin looked desperate, and it put Arthur on edge. He started talking faster, glancing towards the door every now and then. “It’s Lord Addinton, he’s planning a coup to overthrow your father and put himself on the throne, and taking Morgana as his queen to help solidify his position. He’s getting help from a handful of other lords. But he caught me, and now has the guards chasing me, on Uther’s orders. I just needed to make sure you knew, that somebody knew.” Merlin blew out an unsteady breath and leaned back.
“Merlin,” Arthur said slowly, taking it all in, confusion knitting his brow, “what did you do that allowed him to set the guards on you?”
Merlin’s face shuttered.
“It doesn't matter.”
“Merlin—”
The sounds of voices outside the room startled both of them. Merlin sighed.
“Look, it doesn't really matter—”
“Merlin, really—”
“—and right now, I need to get going.”
Merlin stood up, stumbling towards the door, but Arthur grabbed his hand and turned him around, searching Merlin’s face.
“Merlin, please,” he said. “Tell me what's going on.”
And then he heard what was being called through the castle. What the soldiers were yelling to each other as they ran through the halls, searching everywhere. There's a sorcerer on the loose .
Arthur could see the moment when Merlin saw that he had heard, could see the fear and panic alighting in his eyes as he took a tentative step back, but Arthur didn't let go of his arm. He looked at those blue eyes, at the mess of dark hair, at the man who had helped him to derail multiple assassination attempts, joking and teasing all the way along and expecting nothing in return, and he found that he didn't want to let Merlin go. He didn't want to see him gone.
Arthur sighed.
“Fuck.”
Merlin flinched. Arthur frowned worriedly and rubbed his thumb in circles where it rested in the crook of Merlin’s arm. He could worry about the truthfulness of Uther’s accusation at a later time. Right now he needed to get Merlin hidden. He straightened and turned away from Merlin, and faced the empty dark air of his room.
“Morgana,” he called, and could see Merlin looking at him from the corner of his eye like he was a madman. “Morgana, get over here.”
There was a glimmer, and Morgana appeared, a candle in hand flickering in the dark, and rubbing sleep from her eyes. When she saw Merlin, she froze.
“What's going on, Arthur,” she demanded. He sighed again.
“Morgana, this is Merlin. Merlin, meet Morgana. Uther has the guards searching all over for him, and claiming he’s a sorcerer. Can you take him and hide him for now?” Arthur asked.
“You have magic,” Merlin muttered to himself, his eyes wide as he stared at Morgana.
“Yes, very observant Merlin,” Arthur said, pulling away and grabbing his sword and pulling on his shirt and shoes. “I'm going to go lead the hunt away, try to placate my father. Does Uther know that it’s you he’s accusing?” he asked, frowning at Merlin’s still shocked expression.
“Um… no, I don't think so,” Merlin said, eyes flickering between the two. Morgana was still silent, watching the two of them carefully. “Lord Addinton only saw me running away, but his servant saw my face. I don't think he knows who I am though.”
Arthur nodded.
“Alright, go with Morgana. She’ll help keep you hidden until I can get back.”
Arthur went to go for the door, but Merlin grabbed his arm, keeping him in place.
“Arthur, what— just… why?” Merlin asked shakily, his fingers digging desperately into Arthur’s arm.
“Because it’s the right thing to do, Mer lin,” Arthur said, giving him a tight smile. “Now really, I should get to my father—”
“No! I can just leave!” Merlin said, eyes wide and voice loud but hushed. “Just take care of Addinton and I’ll disappear. No— no sorcerer, no problem.” Merlin’s words trembled slightly at the end, but he straightened up, determination in his face as he let go of Arthur’s arm.
“Merlin, I need you to go with Morgana. We can talk about it afterwards, but I just need to—”
“This is completely unnecessary, I’m really fine—”
“Merlin, if you would just shut up and—”
“—let me leave unnoticed, you won't be in—”
“—stop being stubborn, you idiot, I—”
“I don't need you to drag yourself into this for me! I can take care of myself, and—”
Arthur let out a growl of frustration, leaning forward and pressing his lips to Merlin’s, his hand cupping the back of his neck gently, and finally— finally —quieting Merlin’s protests. He pulled away and let his hand fall away as Merlin looked up at him in shock and his fingers coming up to rest dazedly against his lips. Arthur sighed, fighting the urge to reach out and trace the growing blush on Merlin’s cheeks and turned to Morgana. She was now wide awake and watching them with a wicked smile, which only widened with his grimace as he thought of all the ways she would most definitely hold this over him.
“Morgana, can you please take him now—”
Arthur was tugged forward and stumbled into Merlin as he grabbed Arthur’s neck and pulled him closer, lips pressed blazingly against his. Arthur grabbed Merlin’s waist to steady himself, his breath stuttering as Merlin licked against the seam of his lips, prying a low growling sound out of Arthur. He gripped Merlin tighter, even as he pulled away from the kiss. Merlin’s breath was short and hot on his cheek, his eyes blown wide, and Arthur was sure he looked much the same.
“Go with Morgana,” Arthur said, his voice low. He bit his tongue in order to hold himself still as Merlin licked his lips. He took a breath and then a step away, grabbing his jacket and pulling it on over yesterday’s rumpled shirt. “Go with Morgana,” he said again, looking at Merlin with feeling, and then at Morgana. “Make sure he’s safe.”
And then Arthur was out the door, asking the nearest guards for the whereabouts of his father, and ready to chase down a sorcerer.
— — — — —
It took the rest of the hours of night and the rest of the following day before Arthur was truly allowed to stray from the witchhunt. There was a growing pounding behind his eyes, and all he wanted to do was retire to his rooms, take a bath, and fall asleep. But Merlin was waiting, and that was something that couldn't be left until later.
He didn't dare go to Morgana’s rooms. He wanted nothing he did to seem out of the ordinary, wanted to give nothing away to Uther, not even a glimmer of a hint, and especially not directly after an accusation of sorcery. Uther would still be astride his high horse, blade clenched in anger and ready to point once more at something that could spell sorcery.
Wearily, Arthur made his way up to his room. Shucking off his armor, he let all the weight fall from his shoulders for a heartbeat, enough to take a deep breath and steady himself once more.
There was a knock on the door, and a servant carrying a tray laden with food came in and set it down silently, bowing their deference before leaving. Arthur sat down and propped his chin on his hands, rubbing at the center of his forehead with a finger before taking one last breath and calling out Morgana’s name again.
Merlin and Morgana appeared before him, and a wisp of anxiousness in Arthur’s chest stilled at the sight of Merlin unharmed and well. Morgana looked as she always had, but with a decidedly unreadable expression on her face. She knew that the following conversation was not hers to have, only hers to act upon once it was complete.
Merlin, though, looked nearly drained, with dark bruises under his eyes and his hair looking as if a gale storm blew through it. But most of all, he looked like a nervous wreck, and if Arthur hadn't known Morgana for years then he might have missed the almost pitying look she sent Merlin’s way.
He stopped himself from going up to Merlin to comfort him, but just barely. He wasn't sure how welcome it would be, and the last thing he wanted to do was to make a mess of this.
He gestured to the food covered table. “Sit. We should have all the time we want. I don't think Uther will be bothering me until tomorrow, unless he somehow stumbled upon the trail of the sorcerer he’s hunting.”
“The supposed sorcerer,” Morgana said, sitting down at the table with a sweep of her skirts.
Arthur nodded in confirmation. “Uther is following a trail of air,” he assured, his eyes on Merlin. He still hadn't sat down, and was for all the world looking like he would rather be anywhere else. Arthur watched Merlin fidget in indecisiveness for only a moment more before he spoke up. “Merlin,” he said, watching as those blue eyes snapped to his. “Uther is not aware that it was you who was accused of sorcery. Neither is Lord Addington, and his servant has been dealt with.” Merlin’s eyes widened at that, but Arthur continued before Merlin could open his mouth. “Sworn to secrecy by pain of death, as well as some gold to line his pocket.” The money was just a precaution, something to make the servant feel as if he was getting something more out of staying quiet than just his continued living. And Arthur had made sure that he was aware that if he breathed a word of it to anyone, his life would be forfeit. He was well practiced in instilling the fear of god in men. A perk of being Uther’s son and heir. “If… you are free to do as you want now. You will be accused of nothing.”
Arthur swallowed, wanting selfishly to take the words back. He knew that Merlin owed him nothing, and no matter how alright Merlin seemed to be with going behind the king’s back, going “slightly” against the law, he was not going to ask Merlin to stay in a place that had tried to take his life on several occasions.
“I… you’re aware that I am a sorcerer?” Merlin asked, pursing his lips.
“I wouldn't doubt it,” Arthur said, thinking back to Merlin’s reaction of true fear when he believed that Arthur would turn him in on accusations of sorcery. “I didn't want to assume, and I wasn't going to ask.”
Telling him anything related to magic was a risk. He would never turn Merlin in, but it was a leap of faith and trust that Arthur didn't want to push anybody into.
“You weren't?” Merlin blinked in surprise at him. Arthur shrugged halfheartedly, a tired smile on his lips.
“Better to have plausible deniability if it’s not a secret that you want shared.”
“So I'm not going to be turned in?” The confusion on Merlin’s face seemed genuine, as if he truly couldn't understand the notion of Arthur doing anything but throwing him to the mercy of the law. Even after Arthur had kissed him, had led his father and his men down a fruitless path, even as he stood here now, willing to do it all again for Merlin.
“Where do you think I would be if Arthur was one to turn to hatred in the face of magic?” Morgana asked, quirking a smile.
“That's a good point,” Merlin mumbled, his face turning red.
Arthur turned to Morgana, glaring slightly. “Did you not tell him that I wouldn't?”
“Oh, I did. Repeatedly. For the entire day. But he wouldn't believe me,” Morgana sighed, giving Merlin an accusing look. “He’s been wearing himself out, worrying himself in circles all day long. You have no idea how exhausting it's been to watch.”
“Then why didn’t you leave?” Arthur asked, turning to Merlin.
“I…” Merlin trailed off, turning bright red. Arthur watched him carefully, ignoring the way his heartbeat leapt into his throat as Merlin huffed a breath and sat down heavily in the chair next to him. He picked up a slice of cheese and folded it in half before stuffing it in his mouth, and looking miserable and pouty while doing it. “Don't laugh at me,” Merlin said sourly around the piece of cheese when Arthur snorted, hiding his smile behind his hand.
“Oh, for the love of god,” Morgana muttered. “I'm going to go now. I am going to assume that you're both fully functioning adults that are capable of communication and not killing each other. If either of you dies, know that I will avenge you.”
And then Morgana was gone, leaving Arthur sitting in astonishment and Merlin sitting and petulantly eating cheese. Arthur looked over at Merlin, and promptly started laughing, full on this time, his exhaustion feeding the flames.
“Oh sod off,” Merlin muttered, crossing his arms.
Arthur’s laughing died off, and he took in Merlin, sitting at his table in the firelight, and did his best to ignore the feeling that this was right . That Merlin shouldn't ever be anywhere else other than by his side. He hadn't even known Merlin for long, but it felt like his world had tilted and now it wouldn't ever be whole again if Merlin wasn't there.
“Merlin,” Arthur said quietly, bringing Merlin’s eyes up to meet his. “Why didn't you leave?”
Merlin’s face lost its pout, turning into a hard frown.
“I should’ve,” he said in a low voice, laced with confusion and accusal, as if he were berating himself. As if he didn't understand why he stayed either.
“But you didn't,” Arthur said, watching him carefully. Merlin didn't answer him. He didn't look up from staring at the table either. Arthur leaned back in his chair. “So what's the plan now? You're under the same roof of the king who wants you on a pyre.”
That got Merlin’s attention. “You said that he didn't know who—”
“He doesn't,” Arthur said , nodding and sitting up, leaning in close, watching as Merlin’s throat bobbed. “But you're still living in Camelot with magic. That, is a very dangerous game to play.”
“One that I'm more than capable of playing,” Merlin said defensively.
“It's still dangerous though,” Arthur reminded. He swallowed and let some of his emotions eat at the edges of his expression. “And I don't plan on watching you burn.”
“Oh.” Merlin looked shocked, like that wasn't the response he had expected. Arthur continued.
“If you plan on leaving now that the coast is clear—which would be the generally recommended course of action—then I will provide you with any supplies needed to get you well away from here.”
“Well,” Merlin smiled, “I don't normally do what's generally recommended.”
Arthur blew out a sigh and fought against a smile. “Yes, I'm aware.”
“So I'm staying?” Merlin asked.
“It’s your decision,” Arthur reminded.
“But you won't stop me?”
“Could I?”
“You could turn me in.”
Arthur looked him in the eye, loading every word with sincerity. “I wouldn't do that.”
Merlin was the one watching him carefully now. “And… and the kiss?”
Arthur’s heart stuttered. He wanted to pour his heart out to Merlin, take him in his arms and never let him go. But he didn't want to pressure or scare Merlin into anything, especially considering him currently being marked as evil by the laws written by his father.
But the way that Merlin looked at him, as if he demanded only the truth, as if they had already exchanged hearts… Arthur couldn't say no.
“I don't quite understand it,” Arthur said, shaking his head with a quiet smile. “There's something about you, Merlin… I feel for you as I have no one else. You have my heart, for whatever you want to do with it. It’s your decision. I will not judge, nor will I turn away or demand anything from you.”
Arthur met his ocean-blue eyes and watched the warm, flickering light of the fire reflecting in them. He held his breath, swallowing in anticipation.
“Idiot,” Merlin said fondly, smiling. Arthur’s breath caught in his throat as Merlin’s eyes flashed from blue to gold, and his chair was pushed back and Merlin was crawling into his lap and kissing him. Arthur gripped the arm of the chair to keep from toppling over with one hand, and reached up to cup the back of Merlin’s head with the other, leaning up into Merlin’s mouth. Merlin pushed back against him, trailing fingers through his hair and across his cheek, kissing him with a hunger that Arthur returned readily, greedy for Merlin’s touch and breath, all of it as close to him as possible. Arthur’s fingers trailed down Merlin’s back, dragging against his spine and smiling when Merlin shivered against him. He grabbed Merlin’s side, pulling him closer, but Merlin yelped and pulled away, the shock of pain in his eyes. Arthur immediately withdrew, eyes wide, the heat of the kiss already forgotten.
“Are you alright?” he asked, scanning Merlin for any signs of open wounds.
“Yeah, I'm alright,” Merlin grimaced. “It’s patched up, just not healed yet.”
Arthur remembered the stain of blood that had been rapidly growing the night before, and wondered how he had forgotten it so fast.
“Can I see it?” he asked, looking to Merlin for permission.
“If you really want to,” Merlin responded, scooching back on Arthur’s lap so he had enough room to see his side. Arthur lifted his shirt, taking in the bandages wrapping around his middle. “Really, there's nothing wrong. Morgana patched me up right away after I almost fainted—” Arthur glared up at him— “but I didn't!” Merlin protested. “But it’s all fine. My magic helps to heal me quicker too, so I should be good in no time.”
Arthur brushed his thumb against the edge of the bandage, worry flitting through his stomach. “Who did it?” he murmured, a red-hot anger simmering through him.
“Arthur,” Merlin sighed.
“Merlin,” Arthur said back, dropping the shirt and looking up at Merlin, grabbing tightly to his legs where they sat straddling him, “who did this to you?”
Merlin sighed again. “It was Lord Addington’s servant. He was the only one who got close enough.”
Arthur pursed his lips. He shouldn't have been so lenient with the boy. If he had known that he had done something like this to Merlin, he would have had him framed as the sorcerer and put on the pyre.
“Arthur,” Merlin chided. “I can smell it burning, you're thinking so hard. It’s fine, okay? I’ll heal in no time.” Arthur still didn't say anything, just looked at Merlin, and tried to once again fight the overwhelming urge to wrap him up and never let anything harm him. “If it helps,” Merlin said, smiling awkwardly, “I've had much worse.” Arthur sat up tall, looking at him in a mix of shock and horror. “Nevermind,” Merlin grumbled. “Look,” he said, voice dropping as he moved closer, nosing at Arthur’s neck, “we can sit here and argue about injuries I've already had, or you can get on your back and I can make you see stars. Do you think you can do that for me?”
Arthur swallowed, already pulling Merlin closer until their lips met, his heart already thrumming and he pressed his hand steadily against Merlin’s chest, feeling for the responding heartbeats.
“Anything you ask, Merlin,” he whispered reverently against Merlin’s mouth. “I think I’d do anything you ask.”