Work Text:
Arthur had thought the words so many times it was bound to slip out sooner or later.
The first time was when Merlin had almost died. He was so shocked by the thought, after Gaius had assured him of Merlin’s full recovery and he’d seen for himself that his manservant was up and about again, that he’d avoided Merlin for the rest of the day to puzzle out where it had come from. He’d only known him for a short time, then, and while he had quickly grown to know and trust (and like, though he would never admit it) Merlin, he didn’t think.... well. It was probably just relief at having his manservant back, as bad of a servant as he was.
When they were preparing to go out and meet the dragon, he wondered briefly if Merlin was going to say it to him.
“I know it’s hard for you to understand how I feel...”
Arthur couldn’t breathe.
“But I care a whole hell of a lot about that armor.”
He exhaled. The look in those stormy eyes seemed to say more- seemed to say what Arthur had expected... had wanted, he realized with a shock of disappointment. Merlin met his gaze with tense desperation and trust so clear that Arthur couldn’t help thinking it again. And again, later, after the dragon had flown away, when those same eyes met his with relief.
Then, of course, when Gwaine and his imbecile of a servant showed up on his quest that he was meant to complete alone, thank you. As soon as he saw that dark hair and vibrant red scarf, before he even had time to register how or why he was here, the words came to him unbidden. That time was so close that it made his heart race, and he immediately covered it- and the not inconsiderable relief at having help and company- up in a show of anger he did not feel.
The week of his father’s death was one of the hardest of his life. Uther had many faults, and he held many beliefs that Arthur had long since turned from, but he had been his father, and Arthur had spent his entire life wanting to please him, looking up to him, and loving him as much as a son could love their father. The morning after he stood vigil to mourn Uther, he was ragged with exhaustion and grief, and then he opened the door. There he sat, waiting for him.
“Merlin. It’s a new day. You've been here all night?”
“Didn’t want you to feel that you were alone.”
It swells in him, then. In his mind, in his chest. He wants to say it out loud. He’s been through so much, and he wishes he could just have this.
Instead, he says, “You are a loyal friend, Merlin.”
By the time Merlin trusts him with his magic, Arthur had lost count of how many times it’s happened. That day, though, was another that he came so, so close to saying it. Merlin had just... shown him, with very little preamble as they were preparing for camp one night after a hunt that had been more eventful than planned.
“I’ve wanted to tell you for some time, but I couldn’t make you choose between me and your father. After you spared that druid girl today, though... Arthur I need to show you something.”
With a whisper and a flash of gold- Arthur had thought he’d seen it several times before, he noted Merlin so closely, but had thought it was a trick of the light- a flower appeared in Merlin’s palm. The petals were soft blue with red centers and it had a sweet smell. He held it out to Arthur, his eyes downcast.
“Sire, Arthur, I have magic. I was born with it. But I use it for you, only for you.”
Merlin had kept this from him, and Arthur expected to be angry, but that wasn’t the emotion he felt right now. Arthur knew Merlin had good reason. And beyond everything, he trusted this man with his life. Nothing he could say or do would change that, he realized.
“I believe you,” he said.
Merlin looked up at him, his eyes wide, and Arthur realized he must have been genuinely worried, despite the air of calm he’d spoken with. Of course, he was. If it had been his father, this would have been a death sentence.
Arthur placed a hand on his shoulder. “Please. Tell me about your magic.”
They sat by the fire and talked late into the night, and with every moment Merlin retold, Arthur felt it more and more. How much did he owe this man? How many times had he risked himself, both in following Arthur into danger and in risking being caught as a sorcerer? He told him about the Dragon, Kilgharrah, and what he had said about them. Two sides of the same coin. Destiny.
Arthur almost said it a hundred times that night. He thought it a thousand times.
It had occurred it many more instances after that, and Arthur had just grown used to it sprouting up during moments of intensity, tied up in adrenalin, relief, gratitude, comradery, and often dangerously close to his lips after more than two glasses of any wine or spirit.
The day that it happens, though, is comparatively normal. Nothing is perilous, especially considering all of those other instances, and nobody is dying. It is just the beginning of a new day, and Merlin is helping Arthur get ready. As he turns to reach for Arthur’s crown, the morning sunlight streaming in happens to catch Merlin’s features in a way that Arthur can only describe as ethereal. There is a halo surrounding him, and his sharp jaw and cheekbones are prominently displayed. Then, to add insult to injury, Merlin’s eyes flash gold as he mutters a spell to shine the metal in his hands. Arthur is transfixed.
Merlin quirks an eyebrow at him after a few moments. “Is everything okay, sire? You’re staring, and I don’t think you’ve blinked in two minutes.” His lips quirk into a teasing smile. “Look, I know you’re thick but it’s a bit early in the day for-”
And Arthur thinks the words again, so strongly through the admiration and fondness that he thinks he might burst.
Merlin has stopped speaking midsentence, frozen, his eyes suddenly fixed on Arthur’s.
"What did you say?"
Ah. Maybe that wasn’t in his head after all. Arthur is surprised at how calm feels about it. He had so long to come to terms with his feelings towards his manservant that it is actually a relief to no longer have to worry about this exact eventuality. And he finds he’s really not that concerned, because the thing is, he thinks, he's not certain of course, but he thinks... Merlin just might feel this way about him, too.
"I said, Merlin ... that I love you."
Merlin is not nearly as calm. He seems a bit frantic, actually.
"You can't just- Arthur you can't just say that!"
Arthur snorts. "I think you'll find that I'm the King, Merlin. I can do what I wish.” He steps closer, his hand coming up to cup Merlin’s cheek. “And I wish to tell you that I love you. I have done for quite some time."
Merlin lets out a strangled whine.
“Please use your words, Merlin.”
Merlin’s gaze searches his face, alighting on his eyes, his brow, his lips for just a beat too long, then lifts them once again to Arthur’s.
When he finally speaks, he says, “I do not have the words for all I feel for you, Arthur.”
Arthur leans closer, pausing long enough to let Merlin pull away. When he doesn’t, he lifts his other hand, and holding his face gently, kisses him. It is soft and slow, and he feels Merlin’s magic in the space around them as he kisses back, leaning his whole body into Arthur’s.
When they have to pull back, they rest their foreheads together, simply breathing in contented silence for a few moments.
“I love you,” Arthur tells him again. “I’ve almost said it countless times. Now that I can, I don’t think I will ever be able to stop.”
“Then don’t, you dollophead. I wish you had said it sooner. I love you, too, if that wasn’t clear.”
Arthur grins. He doesn’t know what this means exactly, going forward. Perhaps not much will change at all. Merlin will remain by his side as he always has. Arthur will continue ruling Camelot the best way he knows how, and there will continue to be mistakes and dangers, and triumphs and joys.
And Arthur will continue to love Merlin, only now he can hold him like this, and he can say it, and will say it, often. Sometimes loudly to the court and to his people, with pomp and ceremony, and sometimes in the quiet spaces between just them.
For now, he twines his fingers with his sorcerer's, kisses his knuckles, and knows they will face the new day together.