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There was an ancient saying that Arthur had heard once; a wise man points at the moon, and the fool examines his hand.
He couldn’t remember who said it, or why. All he remembered was that he had heard it at his father’s court at some point and that his father had laughed, pleased with the wit. Arthur had been young at the time, couldn’t understand what foolishness possessed someone to ignore the moon, the wise man’s brilliant idea, to stare at his hand instead.
It had been years since Arthur had thought of that incident. He had learned later what it meant of course, but today the logical meaning he had found seemed to crumple. Because what if the fool had his reasons for looking at the wise man’s hands? He was still a fool, the biggest of fools, but the moon and the stars and the entire universe didn’t compare to the hand pointing at them, and so his choice was made for him before he could pick.
Arthur shook his thoughts clear and tried to focus on the paper in his hands. Merlin was still rabbiting on about the herbs he was working on, telling him which indistinguishable green leaf did what, but Arthur couldn’t honestly bring himself to tune in. He kept following Merlin’s hands instead, as they picked leaves and various dried flowers and added them to his bowl.
They were supposed to be working on Arthur’s speech, but Merlin had chores for Gaius because the latter had been giving Merlin more and more lessons in preparation of their announcement regarding magical practices soon. Merlin was to be announced Court Sorcerer soon after, and apparently even the greatest sorcerer to ever walk the earth still needed to study magic to master it well. Although, looking at Merlin now, shaking his head at something he must've done wrong preparing whatever potion he was working on, Arthur could hardly believe any of what he's been told over the last few weeks. Merlin had told him the prophecies, but it was Gaius that explained that the power Arthur had seen Merlin unleash, on a magical beats one ill-fated hunting trip a few weeks earlier, was only a fraction of what Merlin was actually capable of.
Luckily, they had been alone that day in the woods. It had been a short few weeks after Arthur’s coronation and he had to get out of the palace or he was going to lose his mind. So, one morning, he announced that he was going on a short hunt, just a day out in the woods, deciding that everything else could wait. Because there would be nothing to do if he ended up strangling every single one of his council members in frustration.
The boar had come out of nowhere. Arthur’s weapons didn’t last a chance before it, and then he could see it all too clearly. Merlin’s hand up in the air, ancient words of power leaving his lips, stopping the bloody thing before it took Arthur’s head off.
There had been fights after that, and questions and shouting matches. There had been apologies and explanations and answers. Two weeks passed that he and Merlin hadn’t spoken a word to each other during. In the end, however, it was simple really. Of all the secrets and the half-truths coming out, none of it came close to everything Merlin’s done for him, for Camelot, for the world they were trying to build, there was no choice about what to do in the end. Still, Arthur was yet to repel the magic ban officially, he and Merlin had both agreed it would be a dangerous thing to attempt so early on in Arthur’s reign, so they decided to wait until things settled.
Within a few days of things getting back to normal, as normal as they could have gotten at that point, they seemed to settle into their previous routine. Except, it felt like Merlin’s chores have doubled all of a sudden. Merlin hadn’t even been appointed Court Sorcerer officially yet, but he insisted on being prepared to when the time would come. He started extended lessons with Gaius now that he didn’t have to lie to Arthur about his whereabouts, and still insisted on remaining in his post as Arthur’s servant as well, refusing to listen to Arthur’s objections.
For a while, it seemed to work. At least until Merlin started to fall asleep on his feet in Arthur’s chambers late at night. Arthur wished he was exaggerating, but for someone who fell asleep on a horse once, Merlin actually managed to fall asleep in the middle of turning Arthur’s bed, midway between pulling the sheets and adjusting a pillow. Arthur would've laughed at the time hadn’t his calls of Merlin’s name going unanswered almost had him chocking with fear. He had since started sending Merlin earlier to bed earlier each night, insisting that he could take care of preparing himself to sleep.
The one downside to it all was that now Arthur hardly saw Merlin alone. They had always had time for each other, especially late at night, talking about whatever that was on Arthur’s mind. So by the end of the week, Arthur had started finding his way to Gaius’s rooms whenever he had the time, pretending that he was checking on the progression of Merlin’s skills, despite hardly knowing the basics of whatever Merlin was studying in the first place.
Merlin would know Arthur’s true motives for coming there over Arthur’s dead body, however.
Arthur had thought he’d dislike being confined into a small space with Merlin like that, but he’d recently come to think of those moments as some of the favorite parts of his day. There was something comforting about being tucked away with Merlin where no one could find them. An ineffable warmth filled his chest at the way Merlin moved around the small room, picking up random books and reading the instruction for certain potions on them in between answering Arthur. It felt normal among all the strangeness that was his life recently. Arthur had been studying as well, reading on magic and the old religion from what little books his father had locked away during the days of the Purge. It was a lengthy process, but he was learning.
He had thought that he was prepared for this, for taking over his father’s place on the throne, he had spent his entire life preparing for this moment, and some things did go smoothly because of that. Yet every now and then, some things would give him pause and it would feel odd and uncomfortable, like the entire role was forced on him, like he was just a young boy wearing his father’s too big shoes. Merlin said it was only the transitioning period; that Arthur was bound to feel that way about certain things, at least for a while. In reality, it was only Merlin’s presence beside him that seemed to make it less so, which was strange onto itself considering that he had just found a whole new side to his friend that had no idea existed. He hadn’t the faintest idea how it was Merlin, of all people, who felt like the only constant in his life these days, a haven in a storm that was uprooting everything around him.
Today, however, and much to Arthur’s dismay, their ritual wasn’t working well to calm his mind. Today, the best Arthur could do was let Merlin’s chatter drown the room around them as he let his mind wander in a vicious cycle.
It occurred to Arthur that his thoughts about Merlin’s chatter and hands and whatever it was they were doing these days should have been his first clue that it wasn’t Merlin who's changed to him, but it was this thing between them that was venturing off the familiar charted territory it had been on since they had met. A territory in which Arthur didn’t know which way was up or right from wrong. He was getting dangerously close to the point of no return, or had he already passed that? Had he really been so blind? If only he hadn’t overheard the offhandedly thrown remark today about them. If only it hadn’t affected him so.
There was a time when Arthur had trouble even forming the word friend about Merlin, even in his mind, had trouble accepting everything that Merlin so ingenuously offered him for years. Now it was a fact, as sure as day is day and night is night. It was second nature to value Merlin’s words now, value his company, but now it was something more. When had that happened? When had Merlin grown on Arthur so that even the word friendship failed miserably in defining what they were to each other?
Although it hardly mattered, didn’t it. There was no denying what Merlin was to him, but to put a name on it, to try and define it, it cracked too much of what was left of Arthur’s façade that he became frightened by it.
A Favourite is someone who’s been elevated by royal favour due to being close to the monarch, one of Arthur’s tutors had once said. Arthur had read the word in one of his history books and asked what it meant.
Does father have a Favourite? Arthur had asked and hadn’t expected the man’s stutter and averted eyes, not to my knowledge, Sire, he had answered, pointing at the title of their lesson of the day to divert Arthur’s attention back to it. Now, the history of this conflict extends back to the ancient claims…
And that had been the end of the discussion, but Arthur hadn’t understood. If a Favourite was someone who had been elevated by royal favour, didn’t that include everyone at court? Was every courtier a Favourite? It didn’t make sense. Later, Arthur had realized, of course, why it was difficult to find a proper definition to what a Favourite was, or their role. Why it had made his tutor uncomfortable to try. It was because no matter the way someone picked to try and define it, it always tethered on the line of offence to someone, overestimating someone’s importance, or overstepping boundaries. A Favourite, by the very nature of their existence, risked upheaving political and social hierarchy in a place where social and political hierarchy ruled every move. It was dangerous to let someone close enough to attempt it.
A laugh startled Arthur from his thoughts. He glanced up from where he had apparently let himself be hypnotized by the movement of Merlin’s hands scribbling on what turned out to be his speech. He had no idea when Merlin had taken it from his hands and had placed it on the bench before him. He had apparently been making adjustments for a while, because his fingers were covered in ink from when he didn’t bother looking to where he was dipping the quill, some even found its way to his face, under his brow and right at the corner of his lips that were stretched wide now, like they did when he was really amused. It was a second later that Arthur had realized that Merlin was laughing over something Arthur had written.
It was probably about Arthur’s understanding of harvest seasons. It wasn’t like he pretended to know how those worked, he had come to talk to Merlin for that very reason.
Arthur felt like he should take offense, or at least pretend to, but couldn’t honestly muster the energy, not with Merlin’s delight at what he was doing radiant as the sun bathing him from the high window behind Arthur.
Merlin was the closest person to him. He was the only person Arthur really trusted, hadn’t Arthur said so once? Hadn’t Arthur already let Merlin see every crack and dent underneath everything he pretended he was for even the closest people around him? Hadn’t Merlin done that without Arthur’s permission? But that wasn’t because Merlin was a Favourite. It was because he was simply Merlin, maddening, annoying, honest and brave Merlin. Arthur had never even tried to give Merlin land or money. Hadn’t that been one of the descriptions Arthur’s read of Favourites, that they were elevated by titles, land or money? Then again, that was more due to the fact that Merlin would probably throw any title, money or land Arthur would try to bestow upon him in Arthur’s face while laughing his heart out.
Arthur was startled again by Merlin’s voice.
“That should do it,” he was saying, more to himself, tabbing the end of his quill against his lips. He hummed as he gave the speech one last read. His mouth quirked a little as he noticed something new, and he placed the speech back down, removing some of his leaves and flowers aside as he did so. Arthur’s eyes wandered to the gentle way Merlin picked the plants, placing them aside carefully, his touch soft, hardly disturbing a leaf or a petal out of place in the slightest. He went back to work and Arthur went back to watching his careful adjustments.
“Arthur?” Merlin was saying in the tone of someone who had been trying to get his attention for a while.
Arthur’s eyes snapped to Merlin’s. He was watching Arthur carefully, smiling a little, a hint of worry overclouding the amusement in his eyes.
“What?” Arthur asked.
Merlin’s eyebrows shot up, his smile flattering. “Are you all right?”
Arthur rolled his eyes like the question was too ridiculous. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“No reason I could think of,” Merlin replied, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning his hip on the table beside him… which meant he had plenty of reasons but knew voicing any would most likely work Arthur’s temper. Arthur fleetingly wondered when he had started reading Merlin so thoroughly just from his tone of voice.
Well, he is His Majesty’s Favourite, isn’t he?
It was an offhandedly thrown comment. Arthur hadn’t been supposed to hear it. He had been walking in the courtyard and the men who had arrived with the visiting party earlier that afternoon had been talking amongst themselves. They hadn’t seen him, but he could see who they were talking about when he spotted Merlin standing a few feet away, talking to who appeared to be the stable hand about Arthur’s horses from what it looked like. Merlin wasn’t even aware he was being watched from the looks of it, laughing in the bright inviting way only Merlin managed to laugh in. Arthur wanted to smile just watching him, despite having no idea what was so funny. The next moment, he had almost frozen on the spot when he realized everyone standing were agreeing with the question, amongst them some of Camelot’s servants. He had ran away inside before anyone could see him.
Arthur shook his thoughts clear and walked over to where Merlin had laid out his speech. He glanced at the lines Merlin had crossed out and pretended he was examining them, trying to busy himself with something before he said something really stupid.
“So I think you should ease up on Lord Ferguson a little.”
Arthur looked up from the speech under his hands to stare at Merlin. When had they moved on to discussing Ferguson? Arthur had asked Merlin’s opinion of the man a few days ago when he had arrived to Camelot. He had been one of Uther’s most trusted men, but had retired to his own land years ago and was now supposedly back to confirm his loyalties to Arthur, as he had put it. The moment he stepped into Camelot, however, he had not made it secret how speculative he was of the way Arthur changed some of his father’s policies, voicing his opinions loud for all to hear. It didn’t help that Ferguson was one of the people who had helped Uther win the throne of Camelot years before Arthur was even born. According to his father, their alliance had been a difficult one considering Ferguson’s family’s ancient claims to the throne. Uther had warned him of the man, and Merlin had agreed that Arthur needed to keep an eye on Ferguson. It was especially tricky now with news of some kind of meetings among the nobility of Camelot. It seemed harmless enough, but Arthur had already sent Gwaine undercover to gather more information about that. They were still waiting on word from him.
Arthur blinked as Merlin moved to stand perfectly under the light from the high windows of Gaius’ chambers, washing him in soft golden light. “What do you mean?”
Merlin shook his head slightly which made the light dance on his black hair. He picked a bottle containing a shimmering purple liquid as he answered. “I know. I know. He’s still an arse and I don’t like the way he treats you like a child who was left in charge, but he used to be one of Uther’s closest men, not to mention his family’s old claims. Some people might still be inclined to listen to him. You might want to at least let him think his word has some power. Let him think you’ll listen.”
“But I won’t.”
“I know. It's just for show,” Merlin argued in the way he did when he thought Arthur was being difficult. He held the bottle in his hand higher, studying its contents carefully. He looked beautiful like this, all golden light and wise advice and clever eyes. The idea formed in Arthur’s mind before he could examine it and took hold before he could decide it.
Arthur cleared his throat, tried to look away but failed miserably. What were they talking about? Oh, yes. “It’s cowardly.”
Merlin poured the liquid into whatever concoction he was finishing up. “I’m not asking you to deceive the man into war. I'm just saying you might want to ease on him a little. You shouldn’t alienate Uther’s men. It might turn them against you. Gaius said even your father didn’t cross Ferguson.”
Arthur crossed his arms over his chest now that Merlin had turned away from him to pick something off a high shelf. “And what do you suggest? I humour him and let him think he can do whatever he likes until I can’t control him anymore?”
“Letting someone have the illusion of control isn’t the same as giving them control, Arthur. Who knows, it could even prove a good thing with whatever information Gwaine might bring back.”
Merlin was turning around as he said this. He had a handful of more herbs in his hand which he smelled then scrunched his face in disgust at them. If that last sentence hadn’t just left his mouth, Arthur would've been fooled into thinking that the man in front of him wasn’t capable of rational thought, let alone give political advice that would put the best advisor in the five kingdoms to shame.
Brilliant. Arthur thought. Merlin was brilliant and honest and beautiful and Arthur couldn’t breathe at the strength of it all hitting him at the same time. He had been a fool. He had been the biggest of fools—
He needed to get out of there.
“I have to go,” Arthur said. It came out abruptly but he was standing now, holding a little too tightly to Merlin’s crossed out version of his speech.
Merlin’s eyes were wide when he looked up from the herbs in his hand. He seemed like he wanted to ask, but instead only said, “oh, alright.”
Arthur was saved from saying anything further by the noise of a door opening behind him, Gaius appearing in the periphery of his vision a second later. He nodded to him before he was at the door.
Arthur was two steps out the door when he could hear Gaius’ confused question, “Merlin, what have you done to the King?” and Merlin’s even more confused, “I have no idea,” following before Arthur was out of earshot.
Neither do I. Arthur thought as he hopped the stairs from Gaius chambers down to the courtyard and into the sun.
...
Morgana wasn’t amused when Arthur burst into her chambers unannounced.
She had been reading by a high window, frowning at the words like they didn’t make sense, when he walked in. Gwen was still on her honeymoon with Lancelot so she was alone, stacks of books pilled around her, on the table and the floor. She looked more at peace than Arthur had seen her in months that he contemplated retreat, but she had seen him before he could do anything. It calmed something in him to see her like that, reminded him of a much younger carefree Morgana, before the nightmares. She had started her lessons with Gaius to control her magic a few weeks earlier, which were a little different than Merlin’s, but nonetheless still took up most of her time, but she was happy. She had told him so herself. She said she felt calmer and more entwined with her mind and powers and everything around her. Even her color and demeanor had changed drastically since she started controlling her magic better. Arthur couldn’t have been happier for her, but right then he was in no such state to do anything but prepare himself for the humiliation of asking her help. Because he had no one else to ask, he kept reminding himself, he needed an outsider’s perspective and who was better at saying what she thought regardless of the consequences than Morgana.
About a candle mark later, half of which Arthur had spent watching Morgana laugh at him, he managed to get a somewhat logical answer out of her. He was pacing while Morgana still sat there with her book open over her knees, totally normal and calm like his world hadn’t been just upheaved and he hadn’t just spilled his heart out to her.
“Let me get this straight,” Morgana said when he was done, still smirking a little too much for his liking. “You’re beside yourself with panic over the fact that Merlin’s been called your Favourite?”
That was a way of grossly oversimplifying the situation. Arthur thought. He was beside himself over the strength of the emotions that comment had risen up in him. He was beside himself over the idea that Merlin had always apparently been more to him than he had ever realized, and that it appeared that everyone could see it except for him. He didn’t know how to say any of this however, so all what came out was a sigh.
Morgana was silent for a moment, long enough to make Arthur stop pacing to look at her.
She was looking at him expectedly, one eyebrow arched up in a very Morgana fashion, like she was expecting him to elaborate further. Instead, she sighed and asked, “Well, isn’t he?”
“Morgana,” Arthur barely stopped his voice from whining, because for one, he would never live that down if Morgana heard it, and two, it was really unbecoming of a king to whine.
Morgana smiled, making a show of clapping her book shut and putting it aside. She was still smirking as she went to the table beside him and poured two glasses of wine, handing him one. He gulped from his gladly.
“I just fail to see why it’s such a surprise to you,” she said as took back her seat. “Everyone knows how close you two are. If anything, it should've been common knowledge to you sooner. You and Merlin have always been close friends, it's only natural for people to call him that now.”
When she put it like that— Arthur closed his eyes and rubbed his brow, trying to elevate a headache that was yet to come. He sat beside and rested his head on the back of the chair, closing his eyes. Morgana was quiet for a moment.
“Arthur,” she called, placing her hand on his shoulder, probably sensing that he was too distraught for her teasing. “You’re King now. Everyone you spend time with is bound to be under inspection. It's just the way these things go I'm afraid, people would want to know who is close enough to you to get in your good graces. It's nothing personal. You would've known that if you hadn’t spent all your time as Prince playing soldiers.”
Arthur rolled his eyes at that because he knew how Court worked, it was because he knew that he was in this situation in the first place, and Morgana was being obtuse on purpose now. He refused to let it irritate him however.
“They’ll eat him alive, Morgana,” he ended up saying tiredly.
Morgana gave him a pitying look at that, but her smile tensed all the same. “It'll blow over. Just give it time.”
They sat together in silence for a moment, Arthur steadily sipping at his wine and Morgana pretending to arrange her books while giving him looks from the corner of her eye. Arthur should've known she was trying to get him to relax before she really went for what she wanted to know.
“Now that that’s out of the way,” she said all of a sudden, smoothing down her skirts. “Maybe now you can tell me why you're having a crisis over your feelings for Merlin all of a sudden?”
Arthur was just glad he hadn’t been drinking when she said that, but he choked on air just the same. Morgana was giving him a knowing look of raised eyebrows and a barely there smirk when he got himself under control.
“It is why you're here, isn’t it?” she asked.
“I—” he started but stopped. He wanted to lie. He wanted so desperately to lie and get out of there, but she was right. “I don’t have feelings for Merlin,” he ended up saying, because it was true. What he felt— it wasn’t just feelings. It was more. It was something stronger and more captivating than could be put in words. It terrified him, and Arthur hadn’t thought he was capable of being as terrified to the core by anything before, especially by something that had apparently always been there.
“Sure, you don’t.”
“Morgana,” he warned without much heat. “Just leave it alone, please. I just needed to hear someone’s opinion on this, that’s all.”
Morgana raised her arms up in fake surrender and sipped on her wine silently. It was her eyes that said plenty, however, and even though she hadn’t gotten as much as a nod of confirmation out of him, Arthur knew he had not only just lost the argument, but he had confessed his heart’s deepest secrets without uttering a word.
Mercifully, Morgana appeared satisfied with what she had gotten out of him after that, and they ventured into updates on her lessons. He hadn’t had the time to talk to her about any of it recently, and it felt nice that she felt comfortable enough to include him in it. She sounded excited about it mostly, especially knowing controlling her abilities as a Seer, and developing her talent for scrying. It was Merlin’s suggestion for Morgana to try scrying with the Crystal of Neahtid since she was a Seer and already had the Sight for it. She still couldn’t control what she saw or see it for more a few seconds at a time, but Arthur still felt unbelievably delighted to hear her speak of it with such joy.
When Arthur finally made his excuses to leave, his heart was lighter than it had been all day and he supposed dealing with Morgana’s quips was a good price to pay for it.
…
Arthur wasn’t proud of it, but he had managed to avoid being alone with Merlin for two days now, somehow.
It wasn’t like Arthur was actively trying to ignore Merlin. It just happened to work out that way. It had helped that Merlin had so much to do and that if Arthur wasn’t stuck in council meetings these days, he was getting updates from Geoffrey on the issue of magic legalization. For the latter and most of the former, Merlin was present, and Arthur always ached to ask him to stay afterwards, but he would be dragged aside for something or the other, and Merlin would have to go back to his chores or to Gaius’ and he’d miss his chance.
He needed to know for sure, that was what he kept telling himself. He needed to know for sure where he stood on this before he did something stupid that would wreck everything between him and Merlin. He kept going back to that day in Gaius’ chambers and he would always come to the same conclusion, he was in over his head with all of this. If only he knew where Merlin stood.
Besides, he always turned in late for the night these days, and was well awake and working by the time Merlin would bring him his breakfast. He had also started to have other servants do some of Merlin’s chores when he could. It had worked out smoothly until one night, Arthur figured out why he might’ve wanted to listen to what Merlin was saying more carefully.
The letter sat on his desk. He had read it three times so far and it was all very clear that Merlin’s suspensions were not only justified, but totally underestimating the situation. He stood at the high window in his chambers now, staring down at the courtyard with unseeing eyes. He itched for his sword, to act in the moment and end things before they began. But he knew that this wasn’t going to be solved with swords and fights. He needed to be clever about this.
A knock halted his thoughts. Arthur turned and called a come in before Leon was through the door, he stopped once he was before him.
“What news?” he asked, even though Leon’s unusually pale face should've been all the answer he needed.
“It's all true, Sire,” Leon answered, handing Arthur a letter. “Gwaine’s sent this.” He was silent for a moment, letting Arthur open the letter and read it. It was Gwaine’s usual quick handwriting, reciting even more details than Arthur could’ve thought was possible. Bless Gwaine’s ability to blend in anywhere.
“Did you figure out how long this has been going?” Arthur asked, folding the letter and placing it on his desk beside the report before it.
“It's been at least two months, but they’ve been doing it too discreetly, that’s why we haven't known about this sooner. Gwaine only managed to gather this by going into the castle himself—”
The door opening stopped Leon mid-sentence. They both turned towards it to see Morgana striding through in a storm of long black hair and flowy skirts, stopping before Arthur and looking more distraught than Arthur had ever seen her since she had begun to control her magic.
“She’s with them,” Morgana said unprompted, her eyes pleading with his. Arthur was inauspiciously reminded of a similar time when Morgana had ran to him one morning, frightened out of her mind, begging him not to go on a quest she saw him dying on in her dreams.
“Morgana, calm down—” he started but was silenced by Morgana clutching his arm and shaking him.
“I was scrying the crystal and this time I managed to focus enough to see,” she said. “I saw them. It was Morgause, Arthur. I only managed to see her for a few moments, but I did see her, with Lord Ferguson.”
Arthur tried to add that information to others Gwaine’s sent him. It would appear that it all aligned. If Ferguson was gathering an army of allies against Arthur, it only made sense that he would form an alliance with a sorcerer as well. Arthur tried to calm Morgana enough to tell her that before she worked herself into panic, but she shook her head at his attempts.
“No, you don’t understand,” she pleaded, pushing away Leon’s hand trying to hand her a glass of water. “Arthur, she's going after Merlin. They know about him somehow. They’re working on something to hurt him, or turn him to their side. I don’t know… I couldn’t see it too clearly, but it's been Ferguson’s plan all along. They were talking about an army too, but that wasn’t their primary plan. He was always going to use magic, but now that he knows about Merlin and how close he is to you, they suspect that you have his magic under your control. They intend on weakening you by getting rid of Merlin first”
Arthur felt like he's just been submerged in ice-cold water. Thankfully, Leon chose that moment to ask, “What do you mean? What are they going to do?”
Morgana looked from Leon to Arthur and back before she spoke. “They were talking about something from the days of the Old Religion, that’s all I managed to hear. They think that Arthur must have Merlin under his control against his will. Morgause doesn’t believe a sorcerer would defend Camelot by their own freewill.”
“And when she finds out Merlin is serving you willingly—” Leon concluded looking at Arthur.
“I don’t think it matters,” Morgana countered. “Whatever they’re planning is going to work to make Merlin do their bidding either way. They seemed very confident in it.”
Arthur had to remind himself to breathe, forced his hands to still and crossed them over his chest to hide their shaking. He made sure he had his voice under control before he asked Morgana, “Are you sure about this?”
Morgana still looked too pale and frightened, but she spoke firmly, “yes, I am.”
Arthur took a deep breath at that. There was no use letting his emotions dictate his reaction now. He wasn’t going to let them hurt Merlin. He was going to win this, he was going to protect Merlin and he was going to stop Morgause, but he needed to play it right. First, they needed a plan, and fast. He smoothed Gwaine’s letter over his desk as he tried to put his thoughts into order.
He turned to Morgana first. “Can you scry them again?”
Morgana looked pained. “I can try? I don’t think I have enough power to do it again so soon.”
“It’s alright,” he said squeezing her shoulder. “What you’ve seen so far is probably enough, but we need to keep an eye on them for as long as we can, can you do that?”
Morgana swallowed. “I'll try.”
That was good enough, Arthur thought and turned from her to Leon. “I need information on every person Gwaine sent us their name, everything you can find, families and affiliations chief amongst them.”
“Right away, Sire.” Leon answered turning away to obey immediatly.
“And Leon,” Arthur called as Leon was about halfway to the door. “Be discrete about it as you can. I don’t want anyone suspecting anything.”
Leon nodded to him and left. Morgana was silent for a while after. Arthur was looking at Gwaine’s letter when Morgana finally spoke, “Arthur, don’t you think we should we tell Merlin about this?”
Arthur didn’t need to think to answer this one. “Merlin isn’t to find about this,” he said. “At least not yet.”
“But Arthur—”
Arthur looked up at Morgana at that and she fell silent immediately, probably seeing his answer in his eyes. If they had any chance of this plan working, keeping Merlin away from it was essential.
“You think he's going to choose you over himself,” Morgana concluded.
I know he's going to choose me and do something entirely stupid, Arthur thought. There was no use saying it, however. He looked away from Morgana anyway. “Magic is not the answer to this. I know it isn’t. At least not fully. If we play this right, we can nip this in the bud before anything happens.”
Morgana had sat down at that. She had her hands twisted in her lap and her voice sounded very tired now when she asked, “What do you mean?”
Arthur sat down behind his desk and explained to her what he was thinking.
…
Merlin was in his chambers when he turned in a few nights later.
It was late, later than when Arthur used to send Merlin to sleep usually. Arthur had been stuck in another council meeting that ran late. He was exhausted beyond belief, having spent half the time trying to control his temper over the condescending tones of his father’s older advisors whenever he wanted to do something his father wouldn’t have, and the other half missing Merlin’s usual reassuring presence behind him. He had been deliberately keeping his distance from Merlin these days, even more so than before, primarily in a desperate attempt to maybe make it seem like Merlin wasn’t as close as he was to him to anyone watching. It was easy to plan, he stopped coming to Gaius’ chambers in his free time, and had been successfully avoiding the times he knew Merlin would be doing his chores around his chambers, and he'd been dismissing him from meetings mostly under the pretense that his work with Gaius was more important. It had felt like torture for the most part. Merlin’s presence had become such a constant to him that having it removed only for a few days felt like the hardest thing Arthur’s ever had to do. Every time he almost cracked, he would only be reminded of Morgana’s words and his resolve would renew.
Up until that moment, Arthur hadn’t seen Merlin alone once for an entire a week. So all Arthur could do now when he opened the door and saw Merlin was stop and stare. He wondered if he had conjured Merlin up from his imagination somehow, but then Merlin had dropped the pieces of armor he had been carrying and tripped on them during his attempt to pick them up, and Arthur wanted to genuinely laugh for the first time in days. It was odd how Arthur felt like he could breathe properly just by the sight of Merlin in his chambers again. It felt like life has returned to the place just by his presence.
It took Arthur a moment to realize that Merlin hadn’t heard him come in because he was moving towards the bed now, holding a pillow and adjusting the covers a little. He stopped as he turned, however, finally noticing Arthur. He held the pillow awkwardly and his face flushed a little, like he's been caught doing something he shouldn’t.
“What are you doing here?” Arthur asked, if only to divert from the fact that he's just been caught awkwardly staring (dear god, it was just Merlin in his chambers, what was wrong with him?). He didn’t mean for the question to come out as a demand, but it did, judging by the way Merlin winced.
“I… I don’t know?” Merlin grimaced, closing his eyes for a moment and dragging his hand through his hair. “I couldn’t sleep so I guess I came here and got back to work?”
Arthur’s first instinct was to laugh and call Merlin an idiot. It was what he would've done at any other time, but as he moved closer, he noticed Merlin’s tired face and exhausted eyes and his heart melted. His retort died on his tongue and he reached for the pillow in Merlin’s hands before he could stop himself, putting it away. He walked to where a jug of wine had been sat on the table near the window and poured two glasses, if only to busy his hands with something.
When he turned to look at Merlin, he found the man still standing in the same position Arthur’s left him in, hands still open in the air around an invisible pillow. It would've been comical weren’t for the vacant look in his eyes.
“For goodness sake… sit down before you fall over, will you.” Arthur said, exasperation showing in voice, which would've been reassuring hadn’t it also came out a lot softer than he had intended.
Merlin sat down on the bed instantly. Arthur chalked it off to the way Merlin was clearly swaying on his feet and not because he somehow developed a sense to obey Arthur somehow. Instead of staring for the second time that night, Arthur forced himself to walk back and hand Merlin one of the glasses he was carrying. Merlin reached for it with half lidded eyes, looking at the glass like it was a foreign object. Arthur sat down beside him, fighting not to smile at the sight, warmth spreading in his chest at the comfort of it all.
“I should have a talk with Gaius,” Arthur said, sipping from his glass, trying to get back to familiar grounds with this maddening man beside him. “If you have enough time to come here and work, then he's not giving you enough to do.”
If the way Merlin was smiling at him now wasn’t worrying enough, he didn’t even try to throw a quip back. “This is the first time I’ve sat all day,” he said through a sigh instead.
Arthur’s chest tightened and his smile fell. There was a time when such a sentence from Merlin would have made him laugh, or would’ve sent him into rage if he was in the wrong mood, now, he couldn’t help but feel guilty.
“I—” Merlin spoke before Arthur could say anything, but stopped, rubbing his face with his free hand. “I shouldn’t be here,” he said too quickly, taking a huge gulp of his wine.
Arthur winced. It was childish to feel hurt by what Merlin was saying, wasn’t he the one trying to stay away from Merlin for all of the past week? Merlin probably meant being there in his state anyway, but Arthur couldn’t help but feel a little stung. He drank more wine to stop himself from saying something stupid.
Merlin was staring into his glass now anyway, mumbling under his breath.
“What's that?”
He didn’t look at Arthur, but waved a hand in the air between them, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “Nothing… being stupid.”
Arthur frowned. “What are you talking about?”
Merlin was silent for a beat that Arthur wondered if he's fallen asleep where he sat. He was about to nudge him when the latter finally spoke. “I haven't seen you in days and I… and you…” he rubbed his face with his hand again. “Did I do something?”
The question was so soft and too vulnerable, too unlike Merlin, that it made Arthur question how much of it was the fault of the drink. They hadn’t drank much, but Merlin has always been a lightweight when it came to it. Arthur’s heart ached just the same.
“Merlin,” he said but was stopped by Merlin shaking his head, his lips stretching in a tired smile. “I know, I know. I’m being stupid. Forget it.”
Arthur wanted so desperately to take the opening Merlin’s given him to escape the conversation. He could pretend that Merlin was being stupid, that this was the most ridiculous conversation they’ve had; that Merlin was only imagining things.
And yet, he could see it in Merlin’s eyes, carefully hidden under Merlin’s careful concealed gaze. He could see the hurt there, he could feel the vulnerability Merlin just showed him, and he couldn’t breathe. But what was he going to say? That he was pushing Merlin away all of last week on purpose? That he was a coward? That he had been too afraid of doing something stupid that he'd wreck everything between them until something worse happened?
It almost made him laugh weren’t it all too painful. The irony of it all. His being the one with the secrets for a change.
“I should go,” Merlin was saying now, nodding at himself. “Yeah. I should… It's late and you should sleep. I mean, I should sleep too. Lots of work left—”
“Merlin,” Arthur called but either Merlin didn’t hear him or was ignoring him, because he continued rambling, already half up. “Yes. It's only weeks until the announcement and things need to be ready. Gaius would kill me if I don’t—”
“Merlin,” Arthur called again, louder this time that it shut Merlin right up and he sat back down, and even though he was looking in Arthur’s direction now, he was looking anywhere but at him.
Arthur forced his voice to stay neutral. He could do this. He could do this for Merlin. “I don’t think you should be doing any servants chores from now on, especially mine. You should be focusing more on your magic; that should be our first priority now. You shouldn’t be wasting time on speeches and errands for me.”
To anyone else, what Arthur’s just said would've been taken as a great honor, to be given such favor from the king. But if Arthur knew anything about Merlin, he knew he would take it as the worst insult imaginable. At once, Arthur was proven right when Merlin immediately looked like Arthur’s just slapped him. He stared at Arthur for a moment like he didn’t know him, searching his face for a long moment before his eyes narrowed.
“You don’t mean that,” he said, more to himself from the way his eyes seemed to sober up. “I've always been your servant, we’ve talked about this.” Merlin argued, but Arthur could hear the hint of doubt in his voice.
“Merlin—”
“What? You're going to tell me I can't do both? I was already doing both for years. I can do both. I just need to organize—”
“It wouldn’t be appropriate,” Arthur interrupted firmly. He stood up and went to the table, placing his glass on it and talking more to it than to Merlin now. If he had to see Merlin’s wounded betrayed face one more time, he wouldn’t be responsible for what he was going to do. “You and I being this close. It's already drawing talk and when you become Court Sorcerer officially, it’ll only draw more talk.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Arthur expected more heated arguing, but he must've either said something entirely logical or something too hurtful for Merlin to not even say anything to it.
“Talk,” Merlin said under his breath, so hurt that Arthur had to look his way now. He still sat on Arthur’s bed, his expression even but his hand tightening on his glass that Arthur half expected him to break it. “You mean like my enchanting you into lifting the magic ban, is that it? You're afraid what your father’s advisors would say about us.”
It wasn’t what Arthur had meant at all and he almost corrected Merlin, but before he could say anything, Merlin was standing up and striding towards him. For a brief moment, he towered over Arthur and Arthur was suddenly reminded of how Merlin was taller than him if only by a fraction, a fact he always managed to forget somehow.
Merlin stared at him until Arthur could see the moisture shinning in his eyes. He eventually turned away, placing his glass on the table by the door, and leaving without as much as a glance back.
…
When he was little, Arthur liked to pretend that he could escape from Camelot.
Evidently, he never attempted it. The closest thing he ever came to it was when he was six and had collected blankets from his bed, stuffed them with some clothes into a bag, and hid them under his bed. It wasn’t anything in particular that had made him do it and he didn’t even have a plan to use them in mind. He just liked to know it was there, liked to know he could take it anytime he wished.
When he was a little older, he often thought about it when he was away from the castle. Mostly when he was in the woods surrounding Camelot. There, he could pretend that he was free, running in the woods, the sword on his side and the clothes on his back all that he had, with no great destiny or expectations awaiting him anywhere. It was a silly thought, but a strangely comforting one.
He didn’t think about that dream for years after. He wondered when it had all changed. It was probably by the time he realized what duty meant, what loyalty to his home and his people entailed. He had accepted it; it was all he'd ever known. Why he was there, to protect and serve his home. Nothing else compared, not where it all mattered anyway.
A few years later, a boy came tearing into his life like a natural disaster, shredding everything Arthur thought he knew about the world into pieces, and refusing to bend to accommodate any Arthur’s assumptions in the process. It was around that time that Arthur began questioning everything that was his life, began to realize that maybe there was something else for him out there, something beyond being the perfect son or the perfect prince.
These thoughts were his only companion for the night after the awaited meeting he had been preparing for had ended. He had put everything in motion, with any luck, it was all going to end tomorrow. He wouldn’t have to hear the name Ferguson after that ever again.
His rooms were ready for him to turn in when he got to them, everything tided up and spotless, a window left ajar to let the cool summer air in. Arthur had stood on the doorstep, dread settling in his chest and found himself unable to put another step in front of the other to get it. He felt cold somehow despite it being the middle of summer. He turned away from the perfectly made bed and strode down the hallway without a second thought.
Suddenly, he felt too tired, tired of it all, thinking about home in that abstract way his six year old self thought about when he imagined running away. He was in the hallway leading to Merlin’s new chambers before he could think of where his feet were leading him. Merlin had moved there the day before by instructions from Arthur. It was all under the pretense that Merlin would need separate chambers of his own shortly before their announcement, but in reality it was to calm Arthur’s nerves down more than anything. As Morgana’s scrying gave them more information about what Morgause was doing, he grew more paranoid of her attacking Merlin somehow by knowing where he slept. If Merlin had had objections to it, Arthur hadn’t been there to hear them. It was perhaps the only upside to the distance Arthur’s put between them.
The room was dark when he carefully pushed the door open. He had knocked, but there was no answer, so he pushed the door open anyway.
The moonlight was showing through the curtains, casting long shadows on the floor and over the bed, illuminating the figure sleeping under the covers. It was astounding how all dread had left Arthur once he spotted Merlin sleeping there, snoring softly.
I will move, he thought. He's alright. He's safe and I'm being a creep standing here counting his breaths. I should go.
Despite this, Arthur stood there for a long while still, and when it became evident he wasn’t leaving anytime soon, he forced himself to move towards a window Merlin’s left open and stood there, watching the distant lights in the horizon.
He didn’t know for how long he's stood there, his thoughts for once not racing or going over plans. He felt strangely at peace despite how tired to the bone he was. What did he need to feel at peace after all other than the presence of the man behind him, safe again? Arthur felt completely at peace with what he's done. Even if the thing he's broken between him and Merlin was never fixed.
There was the sound of shuffling feet on the floor behind him. Arthur held his breath until the footsteps stilled and Merlin showed up in his peripheral vision. He stood a step behind Arthur, pausing for a moment before coming closer until Arthur could feel the ghost of his arm, clothed in his night shirt, beside his. He could smell the familiar aroma of herbs that always radiated off Merlin whenever he worked in Gaius’ chambers for too long. He felt himself instinctively relax and lean into it before he stopped himself. He kept his eyes on the distant lights of the few houses that were still lit in the lower town. Goodness, maybe the hour was later than he’d thought.
“What are you doing here?” Merlin asked in a sleep addled voice.
“I was in a council meeting,” Arthur answered without looking at him, too scared of what he'd see there. When Merlin didn’t say anything to that, Arthur added, “the meeting was over and I went up to my chambers and y— no-one was there.” He paused, wondering how much more he could reveal without sounding as pathetic as he felt, until he decided he didn’t care.
“I wanted to see you.”
Arthur couldn’t help how small his voice sounded, but he was too tired to pretend, not even sure what kind of lie he could invent to explain why he was in Merlin’s chambers past midnight.
When the silence stretched, Arthur’s words hanging in the air between them, Arthur risked a glance at the man standing beside him, really seeing him up-close for the first time in what felt like months. Merlin was in his white tunic that he used to sleep in, his hair standing up on every end, shining like spikes of silver under the moonlight. He looked like a stolen figment of Arthur’s imagination, foreboding and unreal. Arthur’s breath caught up in his throat, the desire to have Merlin near, just near after being away for so long, sliced through him, so strong it almost knocked every sense out of him.
Merlin’s eyes narrowed, hardening, and his mouth thinned, giving Arthur pause. He straightened up and linked his hands together behind his back, looking so deceivably harmless.
“No-one’s informed me you wished to see me, my lord.” Merlin finally said into the night, cold and formal.
Arthur flinched like he's been struck. He deserved that, even if Merlin’s use of his title in no way neared the proper way to address him. Considering how little Merlin knew of royal protocol, however, this was pretty damn close.
Arthur almost let Merlin’s attitude irritate him into apologizing for being there, leave to his rooms and pretend whatever insanity had taken over him had never been there. Instead, his shoulders slumped and he found he didn’t have the power in him to even turn away, let alone leave now that he was there. He forced himself to look back at the few lights that were still on in the lower town instead. He wondered who was up at such hour of the night, beside him and his friend turned sorcerer turned whatever they were to each other now.
“Not afraid of what people might say seeing you sneak into my chambers late at night like this?” Merlin asked all of a sudden, the bitterness showing through his formal indifferent voice from earlier.
“Not sure it would make a difference at this point,” Arthur said.
Merlin turned towards him now, studying him from under knitted eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”
Arthur looked down to his hands, resting them on the mantle. “Are you still mine?” the question came out through a tight throat, surprising himself. He hadn’t meant to ask, hadn’t thought of it, but all that’s happened tonight was playing in a dizzying fog in his brain, shaking his sense of everything to the core, making him unsure which way was up.
There was an unbearable stillness from beside him. Merlin freezing so completely that it felt like he had stopped breathing altogether. “What happened at the meeting tonight?” Merlin finally asked, his voice dangerously thin.
Arthur knew he must’ve given himself away when he could hear how Merlin’s voice didn’t have a hint of irritation or formality anymore. This was his Merlin, overprotective and worried and concerned. Arthur felt selfishly reassured by it all that he had to stop himself from sighing in relief. He knew then that he wasn’t going to get away with a lie, not with Merlin like that.
“Arthur,” Merlin called into his thoughts softly.
The breeze picked up at that moment, making the hair on Arthur’s neck stand, and Arthur told himself that was why he felt himself swaying in place, and not because it was the first time that Merlin’s said his name in days.
Closing his eyes for a moment to regain his balance, Arthur opened them and turned his head to look into Merlin’s eyes. Whatever he was going to say next was completely forgotten when he saw the intensity of Merlin’s gaze, the deep concern in his eyes mixed with the affection that only Merlin gave him so freely. He had no idea how much he's missed this over Merlin’s guarded looks of late until he couldn’t breathe at how much it took over every thought of his.
Arthur’s hand moved without his permission, until it paused inches away from Merlin’s face. He dropped it.
“Tell me you're mine,” Arthur heard himself plead, softly as when Merlin called his name.
“What are you even—” Merlin shook his head and scoffed gently at whatever he saw in Arthur’s eyes at that. “Of course, I'm yours.” Merlin’s answer came ready, conviction in it firm as ever. He sounded as if he was humoring a child. Merlin’s hand reached over and caught Arthur’s, his other coming to hold Arthur’s arm tightly. Arthur wondered if Merlin realized he was holding him that hard. “I've always been yours, always will be. What kind of question is that?”
It was astonishing how it felt like a storm that had been brewing in Arthur’s mind has instantly stilled at Merlin’s words. All he could feel was Merlin’s hands on him, steadying him. Everything else seemed secondary, so far away and unimportant, and he was having trouble holding onto any of it. He hadn’t realized he'd closed his eyes until Merlin’s voice brought him back once again.
“Arthur, what happened tonight?” Merlin’s voice had an urgency behind it, power behind each word, like the distant crackling of thunder before a storm, but still filled with so much affection and gentleness. Arthur wondered how a person could hold both inside them. Any other time, Arthur would've laughed at how overprotective his friend was being, but since he's seen what raw power Merlin held within him, he knew Merlin meant the promise behind his words with everything in him. Some part of Arthur’s mind irrationally wondered if Merlin would track every person who was at the meeting tonight to know what happened, hunt them down in an attempt to protect Arthur. It shouldn’t have made Arthur feel better, but it did.
Arthur mentally shook his thoughts clear. “I'm tired, Merlin.”
Merlin’s eyes softened instantly at that. “Yes, of course,” he said, moving away a little, but not far enough to let go. He shook his head like he was clearing it. “I should… you should sleep, get some rest. Yeah, some rest is good. We can… later. Everything can wait till later.” He continued, babbling like only Merlin did when he was nervous or unsure of what to do.
Arthur felt himself smile at the familiarity he hadn’t realized he missed most. “Merlin,” he called and waited until Merlin stilled, but was still looking at everything and anything that wasn’t Arthur. “Everything is all right,” Arthur said anyway, squeezing Merlin’s hand in his. “We’ll talk. I promise to explain everything. Just not right now, please.”
“Alright,” Merlin said hoarsely, squeezing Arthur’s hand in return for a long second. “Come on,” he said after. Arthur had no idea what he meant, but let him steer him, only belatedly realizing that Merlin was guiding him towards the bed in the center of the room. He was turning to ask Merlin what he was doing but Merlin beat him to explain. “I'm not letting you strut around the castle this late at night,” he said, his voice still a little hoarse but sounding like himself more with each word. “Not while you're half asleep anyway. You're staying here tonight.”
Arthur opened his mouth to protest, but before he could say it, he found himself not having the energy to do anything but let Merlin help him into bed and covering him with his sheets. Arthur’s last conscious thought was that the pillow his head rested on smelled of a combination of herbs and the outdoors, and something that was just uniquely Merlin.
…
When Arthur opened his eyes next, he had no idea where he was or how he ended up there.
The room was dark, but it wasn’t his, neither was the bed, but he was well-rested, more so than he had been in days. He was tempted to close his eyes again, but he forced them open and waited until they adjusted to the darkness. Eventually he started making out details by the light of the only candle left lit by the bedside.
It was then that he realized that he wasn’t alone. Merlin was there in bed with him, well, not with him, since he was laying above the covers, asleep on his side, half-sitting with his head awkwardly resting on the headboard. He wasn’t snoring, but his soft breaths were loud in the silence, his mouth half open and his face relaxed.
Arthur burrowed into the bed, feeling comfortable at the sight, of Merlin there beside him, truly and honestly comfortable for the first time in he couldn’t remember how long. He had no idea what time it was, but he didn’t care. It was the first time in months that he didn’t need to be in a hurry to do something or be somewhere. It was the first time in days that he’s got to have Merlin this close. It all made his heart so full and his eyelids almost dropped again, sleep already pulling at him. At least, until Merlin smacked his lips in his sleep, bringing his arms around him tightly.
Cold, Arthur thought belatedly, Merlin was sleeping over the covers with only his thin clothes against the cold of the room. Before he could think, Arthur pulled the blanket in an attempt to cover Merlin’s shoulders. Except he seemed to only manage to wake him in the process.
“Bandits!” Merlin shouted, jumping up in bed before Arthur could catch him.
“No bandits,” Arthur said, pulling Merlin back down. Merlin stilled when he heard Arthur’s voice, blinking at him in the dim light like he wasn’t sure he was real. Arthur couldn’t help a small smile at his half-asleep warlock rubbing his eyes.
“Arthur?” he asked, when he opened his eye again, in sleep-addled wonder, then looked around, realizing where they were from the looks of it, because he ran his hand through his hair, only managing to mess it further, and said, “I must've fallen asleep. Did I wake you?”
Arthur shook his head, laying his head back down on Merlin’s pillow while the latter sat beside him, the glow of the sole candle in the room behind him giving him an eerie glow, casting his features half in shadow, accentuating his full lips and long eyelashes. Arthur cleared his voice. “I'm the one who woke you. Why were you sleeping on the covers?”
Merlin looked bashful of all things. “I wasn’t planning on sleeping. I—” he cleared his voice, looking away from Arthur’s eyes for a moment. “I wanted to make sure you were sleeping alright and I just closed my eyes for a moment.”
Arthur let out a soft chuckle at that, Merlin’s explanation echoing a very similar situation that involved three men spending an entire afternoon looking for Arthur’s horses around town. He felt very light, at peace, like this. Merlin soft and warm in his sleeping clothes, his legs tangled in the blankets, beside him, everything still and soft around the edges. He wished for the moment to never end.
“Are you all right?” Merlin asked now, concern very clear in his voice.
“I am now,” Arthur answered with a reassuring smile. “You should get under the covers,” he said softly, emphasizing by pulling the covers back for Merlin to move under them.
Merlin looked from his eyes to the covers and back like he lost all ability to think or move.
“Don’t tell me you forgot how to cover yourself with a blanket, Merlin,” Arthur said, making sure to use his condescending voice that drove Merlin crazy.
The quip hit the spot when Merlin narrowed his eyes at him. “I know how to get under a blanket.” The you arse was left unspoken, but Arthur heard it anyway.
Arthur almost let himself smile in triumph, but held back. “Then what are you waiting for, an official decree?”
Merlin openly glared at him now, and, flustered, yanked the blankets from Arthur’s hand to get under them. Arthur had no idea anyone could get under a blanket with so much grunting and mumbling until Merlin finally settled down on his side, facing him. He was grinning when Merlin finally looked at him, which was probably why the latter’s face turned into two different shades of red as he pulled the blankets up to his chin. “Happy?” he grumbled, or tried to, because it came out a lot softer than he probably intended.
“Very,” Arthur answered, still grinning, knowing full well that it would only make Merlin more flustered. As if on cue, Merlin mumbled something that seemed to end with spoiled prat. It only made Arthur grin harder. The corner of Merlin’s lips twitched a little despite his put-upon pout and Arthur knew he won.
By the gods, he's missed this.
Merlin was looking up at the canopy when Arthur spoke. “Ferguson was trying to kill me.”
Merlin shot up in bed before Arthur could blink.
“And you,” Arthur added indifferently, completely ignoring Merlin half sitting beside him. “He was trying to kill me and you actually. He was gathering an army, even struck an alliance with Morgause.”
Arthur was silent for a moment after that, before he allowed himself a glance at Merlin who was now looking at him like him like Arthur’s completely lost his mind.
When Merlin finally spoke, the only thing that came out of his mouth was, “you— what?”
Arthur smiled despite himself. “Very eloquent as always.”
Merlin was still staring, and his eyes caught the candlelight for a long moment before Arthur realized it wasn’t the candle at all. “Arthur, this isn’t funny,” he said, even his voice sounding like the crackling of thunder before lightning.
Arthur’s smile fell a little. “No, it isn’t.” Something must've shown in Arthur’s eyes because Merlin seemed to relax if only slightly, his shoulders dropping a little.
Arthur opted for a quick explanation before Merlin did something very Merlin, like go out into the castle, hunting for blood in the middle of the night. “He was trying to rally people around him in the name of his family’s ancient claims. He and Morgause were recruiting sorcerers using Camelot’s past injustice against them,” Arthur paused. “I stopped him, tonight. He's going to be put on trial for treason tomorrow. Morgause would have to find herself another ally now. He wouldn’t be much use to her without his allies.”
Merlin was still staring at him. Arthur decided to have mercy on him and tell him everything from Gwaine’s letter to Morgana’s scrying attempts.
Merlin relaxed back in bed after Arthur finished telling him how Leon’s information on the nobility who were supporting Ferguson was the key to Arthur’s plan. He had used that to renew their loyalty to Arthur, either through negotiations or blackmail. Leon had arrested Ferguson right after the council meeting that night and Morgana had Seen Morgause flee once the news got to her. Morgause still knew of Merlin’s true identity, but now she didn’t have enough men under her command. She was going to have to find herself another ally if she was to attempt another strike against Camelot.
Merlin was silent for a long time after Arthur was done.
“That’s why you’ve been pushing me away,” Merlin finally said, attempting to sound nonchalant, but the hurt was clear in his voice. “You didn’t trust me.”
“What? Of course, I trust you. Don’t be stupid.”
“Then why didn’t you—”
“Because we both know you were going to do something very stupid in an attempt to protect me first, like go to Morgause yourself.”
“I wouldn’t—”
Arthur turned his head to look at him with an arched brow, making Merlin stop and look down. He picked at a loose thread in the blanket between them.
“That’s what I thought,” Arthur didn’t mean to sound smug about it, but there was something about his knowing Merlin better than Merlin knew himself that made him feel better about everything that happened.
“I'm sorry,” Merlin said softly, bringing Arthur’s attention back to him.
Arthur propped himself on his elbow at that, it brought him closer to Merlin’s troubled face in the dark, which let him see how serious he was. “What are you talking about?”
Merlin was still playing with the loose thread from the blanket between his fingers, refusing to meet Arthur’s eyes. “I'm sorry that you couldn’t tell me,” he explained, looking pained. “You shouldn’t have felt that you couldn’t tell me something because I would've acted to protect you first.”
“Only you, Merlin,” Arthur whispered and smiled despite himself. It must've shown in his voice because it brought Merlin’s eyes up to meet his, the pain in his eyes overshadowed by confusion. For the first time, Arthur felt brave enough to allow himself to reach his hand over and touch Merlin’s cheek with his fingertips gently. When Merlin didn’t move away from his touch, only let his eyelids drop a little, Arthur let his fingers wander, trace Merlin’s cheekbones and the soft skin under his eyes. “Only you would apologize for something like this.”
“It's true,” Merlin’s whispered against Arthur’s fingers that were tracing his lips now. “You shouldn’t have had to consider me a wildcard. You should've been confident in that I would do as you say.”
“You wouldn’t be you then.”
Merlin’s eyes had snapped open at that, obviously taking what Arthur said as an insult because he looked away quickly, flinching from Arthur’s touch. Arthur tipped his chin up gently, made him meet his gaze once more before he spoke. “What I meant was, you wouldn’t be the maddening, honest, brave and noble man you are, you idiot. You wouldn’t be the person you are to me and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Merlin’s lips fell open, looking at Arthur with so much love that Arthur could hardly breathe. Because there was no mistaking it now, the way Merlin had always looked at him apparently, the way Arthur’s been a fool to never realize it for what it was. There was so much more that Arthur wanted to say, so much he needed to tell Merlin about what he meant to him, everything he's been too much of a coward to say before, everything he's come to realize in the past few days. He had a hundred apologies to make for that alone.
Merlin, however, appeared to be done talking because he pulled Arthur down and kissed him.
For a while Arthur couldn’t think. He felt his entire world halt. The kiss felt like coming home, like everything in Arthur’s life had been leading up to this moment, to Merlin in his arms, in Merlin’s bed, kissing him and holding him like they’ve been apart for a year, not a few days. It felt like the comfort and peace and everything Arthur had been longing to all his life, but didn’t know he could have, or have already had all this time but was unaware of it. Now that he finally knew it, he vowed against Merlin’s lips never to be a fool to lose it again.