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The air felt like lead going into his lungs.
Crows were gathering now. Arthur could see them, like a black halo over the camp, or what was left of it. If his mind wasn’t repeating what had transpired only moments ago over and over again, he would’ve found the scene serene.
There wasn’t a sound, not a single caw or rustle of trees, but Arthur’s ears were ringing. It was the same ringing that he got in the immediate aftermath of battle, when the screams and cries and swords clashing would all blend together and he would be left trying to determine if there was another blow to block. This hadn’t been a battle, but his ears were ringing all the same, and the lead in his lungs made it impossible to breathe. The fires were still burning merely, if not dwindling a little. He wondered if his father’s men had thrown something on them to make them burn longer. Or maybe someone did suspend time and they were all stuck in this moment forever, time stretching and shrinking in over and over until he couldn’t bear it. He remembered Merlin telling him about something like that once.
He wasn’t sure if it would be a curse or a comfort.
At that last thought, Merlin’s face flashed before his eyes, Morgana’s was next. He couldn't stop imagining them, couldn't stop replacing the faces of the dead under his feet with theirs. It could’ve been them so easily. The blood running on the ground could have been so easily theirs. The thought alone almost brought him to his knees.
Father would be looking for him soon. He needed to move.
A distant caw pierced the air. A crow diving through the sky and picking at the dead laying in the tall grass. Arthur’s eyes followed its black form until another joined it.
If he tried not to look directly at it, the blood looked like dark rain puddles on the ground in the pale morning light.
…
The first time they met, it was one of the first sunny days in Camelot after a particularly long winter.
Merlin had been five years old at the time and had not been allowed to go look at the shiny rocks in the shop next door, much to his dismay. Hunith had been visiting one of her patients and, as usual in those days, Merlin had tagged along.
Merlin didn’t have a very clear memory of what his childhood was like. Nothing particularly remarkable happened. All he knew was the small house he lived in with mother. It was his entire world. He knew they had stayed with his uncle Gaius before, when he was really young, but he didn’t remember it well. Gaius still visited a lot and he and mother would always have conversations that Merlin couldn’t hear, but every time he’d come, he’d bring Merlin a toy or a treat, so Merlin didn’t care much to know what they were whispering about all the time.
There were things he was never allowed to do, first, he wasn’t allowed outside the house unless with Gaius or mother. Second, and perhaps most importantly, he was under no circumstances allowed to make his toys fly from the shelf to his hand like he used to do when mother wasn’t looking because it made his mother cry and Merlin didn’t like making her cry.
Today, however, the sun was out and the shiny rocks in the shop next door were glittering in the sun. Hunith shook her head sternly at him when he tried to leave her side, pulled him into the house with her and closed the door. It had been a long morning and Merlin knew there was no use trying to ask her anything when she was like this.
It wasn’t hard to sneak out once the adults had started talking, however.
After a quick look at the shop with the shiny rocks, where Merlin was firmly told off by the owner, Merlin decided to follow the men with the big red capes flying in the wind to wherever they happened to be going. He’d seen them before, from the window of their house, riding their horses galloping through town. Now, Merlin could follow them, because they weren’t on horseback. They were walking into a big yard where even more people were walking around, more people than Merlin had seen in his entire life, people in colorful clothes and hats. There were horses and carriages everywhere, and perhaps most importantly of all, no one around to tell him he couldn’t go near any of it.
…
It hadn’t needed much convincing for his nursemaid to let them have a picnic outside that day.
Arthur was simply ecstatic. It’d been weeks since he had been last allowed outside. It was too cold, his nursemaid would always say, the king would disapprove, she would add. That would always shut any further protests Arthur would have. He loved his father, but the stern disapproval he would hear in his voice later wasn’t worth the risk.
Still, Arthur was bored, staying in meant lessons all day and then a quiet dinner in his rooms. It was lonely and boring. He didn’t have anyone to talk to but Agnes, his nursemaid, who often sat in a chair with her needlework next to the hearth all evening while Arthur ate dinner and readied for bed. It sometimes also meant going to the library, which wasn’t particularly exciting, but was better than staying in his room all day.
At night, and once a week, he would be taken to his father’s rooms for a quick briefing on how he was doing and how his lessons were going. Though most of the talking would be done by Agnes and it would all always end with a stern nod from his father, it was still nice to see his father and answer his questions, to try and detect any hint of approval or pride at his accomplishments.
Agnes often told him stories too. She used to tell him stories about friendly dragons and the people who tamed them, but these stories quickly changed after he once mentioned them in his father’s presence. Since then, if he requested a dragon story, it would be the one about his father killing them all and locking the last one somewhere no-one could ever reach, as a reminder and a warning. To whom? He’d always wanted to ask. Hadn’t his father rid Camelot of all the bad magic people? He feared that more stories would stop being told if he did ask so he never did.
Today, when Arthur woke up, the sun was shining through the window brightly and warmly, and this time when he asked Agnes the same question about going outside, she gave the window a weary sigh and said, “well, I guess it would be alright.”
Arthur clapped and almost knocked his breakfast off the table when he jumped at the news. Agnes laughed and told him he could help pick the snacks they were going to bring. They ended up filling an entire basket with sandwiches and juice and fruit which they ate in the sun in the garden. They picked flowers and Agnes made him a flower crown. Arthur thought he never wanted the day to ever end.
…
Merlin’s first instinct was to laugh.
The courtyard had almost emptied by the time he was done exploring. There’d been a puddle of mud that he’d found that was fun to jump into to make splashes, but it was getting cold and he was hungry. He was wondering how it was best to find his way home when he saw him.
It was a boy about his height and age with the shiniest golden hair Merlin’d seen in his life, and there, on the boy’s head, was a hat of flowers, yellow and pink and white. It wasn’t a funny hat, it was actually very beautiful, like a halo of colors atop the boy’s golden hair, but he’d never seen anything like it before and so he laughed.
Too late, he realized that the boy had heard him.
Too late, he said, “I like your hat.”
The boy’s big blue eyes narrowed and his mouth thinned. “It’s a crown ,” he said, and then added, “ big ears ”.
Merlin pushed the boy into the puddle of mud.
…
Arthur didn’t cry. Father didn’t like it when he cried. He sniffed his tears back and took a long look at the skinny boy standing over him with triumph.
No-one ever dared to touch Arthur like that. No-one ever dared to laugh at him like that. Who does that boy think he is—
Arthur pulled the boy down into the mud with him.
The boy fell on his butt. Arthur’s tears instantly turned into a laugh. The boy looked utterly ridiculous, his face covered with mud that splashed when he fell and his eyes and mouth open wide at what had just happened.
That was how Agnes found them a few minutes later, except now the boy’s head was locked under Arthur’s arm, Arthur smudging more mud into his face while the boy was pulling at Arthur’s hair.
“Hunith’s son!” Agnes had exclaimed when she had separated them.
That’s how Arthur would recognize the boy when he would see him next.
Hunith’s son.
…
The second time they met was the first time Arthur had tried to run away.
It was a couple of days after the mud incident. Arthur had been in his rooms playing when his father had entered, slamming the door behind him.
Both he and Agnes had jumped at the sound. Arthur hadn’t understood much of what happened afterwards. His father was shouting about a book in his hand. It was one of Arthur’s books. Arthur was confused, he wanted to ask how a book could be dangerous, how it could be threatening when it didn't cut like a sword or a spear, but his father wouldn’t stop shouting, so Arthur stayed silent.
He stopped listening a moment later anyway when his father stepped on his dragon toy and broke it in half.
Arthur picked up the pieces and ran out of the room the moment his father had left.
…
Merlin saw the boy with the golden hair for the second time on his way back to Gaius’.
That day, Merlin had been allowed to go with Gaius on his rounds because his mother wanted to gather herbs for her shop and she didn't like to take Merlin with her to the woods.
For the last couple of patients he was to visit, Gaius had sent Merlin back to his rooms with one of the guards. Merlin knew the people Gaius was going to visit were very important and didn’t like children very much, but he didn’t care, he was happy he could play before Gaius was home.
The boy with the golden hair had been sitting on the steps leading up to the tower where Gaius’ rooms were. Merlin had seen the boy a couple of minutes after the guard had left. He was sitting in the most hidden nook of the stairway, so Merlin wasn’t able to see him until it was too late and the boy’d seen him too. The boy wasn’t smiling or wearing a flower crown today. In fact, he was curled up on himself, his head down, clutching something that looked like pieces of wood in hands. When he sniffed, Merlin knew he was crying.
Merlin didn’t know what to do. He didn’t particularly like the boy, since the last time they saw each other the boy had been so mean, but he couldn’t pass him by either without saying anything.
“Are you okay?” Merlin asked, standing a little away in case the boy got any funny ideas.
The boy looked at him then away. “Go away,” he said, sniffing a little, his voice breaking on the last syllable.
That decided Merlin. He sat down next to the boy and extended his hand. “I’m Merlin,” he said.
It took a minute for the boy to react, he was probably waiting for Merlin to get bored and leave. If he was counting on that, Merlin had news for him, because his mother didn’t call him the most stubborn boy for nothing. The boy finally lifted his head, albeit slowly, and looked at Merlin’s extended hand before his big watery blue eyes found Merlin’s.
Merlin smiled and thrust his hand forward. “I’m Merlin. What's your name?”
The boy looked confused, he rubbed his eye a little then hesitated for a second before he took Merlin’s hand in his. “Arthur,” he said.
“Why are you crying?”
It was then, and very reluctantly, that Arthur had extended the pieces of wood he’d been clutching in his hands and showed them to Merlin. It was a pretty dragon toy broken in half.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Merlin could very clearly hear his mother’s voice telling him to be careful with his talents, that he was a very special boy but if anyone heard about it, big men would come and take him away from home and he wouldn’t see her or Gaius ever again. Merlin, however, took one look at the way Arthur was looking at his toy, his lower lip trembling and his eyes filled with tears, and the toy was put back together before Merlin could blink.
The brilliant grin Merlin was awarded with at what he did was worth any trouble he would be in later, Merlin decided.
…
Arthur was standing in the castle’s courtyard.
It was dusk and the sunlight was a weak thing casting everything around him in long shadows, making everything look like a distorted image of itself.
The wind picked up and a shiver ran up Arthur’s spine. He turned around, tried to look for anyone to ask what was happening, but he was completely alone. The courtyard deserted.
Had Camelot been attacked while he was away? Had something worse happened? He needed to find his father, or one of the knights, someone to tell him what was happening.
A scream echoed through the courtyard making Arthur jump. He turned sharply to look for its source. It had come from the stables, but just as was making his way to them, another more shrill one followed it, this time coming from the keep. Then another followed, and another, and another. The screams seemed to be coming from everywhere, from the lower town, from the towers, from every direction Arthur could turn, blending together until Arthur couldn’t tell what was happening.
It must’ve been magic, he thought. A magical attack of some sort. He needed to find Merlin, or Gaius. One of them would know what to do. Before Arthur could turn however, he blinked and there was a pyre in the middle of the courtyard. It must’ve been the biggest pyre Arthur had seen in his life, and he had seen his fair share of them. It stood at least ten feet tall, lit with fires wide around it, flames licking up at the sky.
Arthur was running before he knew what he was doing. There was a man tied to the wooden poll. He was screaming. Arthur would know that voice in death.
Arthur screamed, there were hands holding him back from jumping into the fire, from pulling Merlin out, because by all the gods, this wasn’t happening. He had to do something. Dear god, let him do something.
The image vanished. Arthur was on his knees and he was crying. He was back at the camp they had been at that morning, except now, it was completely burned down. He looked around at the bodies everywhere. It was then that he saw her, Morgana, laying on the ground, her eyes open and unseeing.
The dark roof of his tent was the next image Arthur saw.
He was panting like he ran a mile, drenched in sweat, blinking rapidly at the images still fresh in his mind.
He propped himself on his elbows and tried to breath, sitting up in his cot and rubbing his face.
It was a dream. A nightmare.
It wasn't real.
Morgana and Merlin were safe.
He kept repeating that to himself like a mantra until his heart slowed down and he could lay back down.
Arthur wasn’t sure he was ever going to be able to close his eyes ever again.
…
The air between them felt like liquid moonlight, gently washing away everything weighing on Arthur’s heart with it.
He took a deep breath in. It had been a long hot day but now that the sun had finally set and the moon was full in the sky, the cool night air was slowly descending upon them, making the hair on Arthur’s arms and the back of his neck stand.
Spring had arrived in Camelot early that year. The days were already getting longer and warmer and the first festival of the season was already on them. Arthur hadn’t allowed himself to breathe any of it in until that moment. It’s been a busy few weeks with all the changes his father was suddenly fond of springing on him, but he didn’t want to think about that right now.
Arthur loved Camelot in the spring and summer. He had disliked winter since he was a child. Winter always meant staying inside the castle for days on end, not to mention the longer, colder nights. He didn’t like the castle in winter, when the wind would howl and the hallways were cold and empty.
Today was one of those days that reminded Arthur why he loved the spring in Camelot so. The festival was entertaining. He always loved how vibrant and loud it was. Even though he had to sit through his father’s opening speech first and supervise multiple tasks for most of the day, he managed to meet up with Merlin in the afternoon. The evening had seen them running home like boys and ending up on a hill overlooking the castle, possibly still tipsy from the ale Arthur had kept pushing on Merlin.
Right then, they were laying in the tall grass, a little breathless from running up the hill, staring up at the sky. It was a clear night and every star was shining brightly. Arthur was still smiling faintly, Merlin a warm presence all along his side. They weren’t touching, but Merlin was less than an inch away. It felt significant anyway.
At the moment Arthur didn’t care much to think, all he knew was that he felt good. Maybe he was a little more drunk than he thought. For the sting in his chest from his meeting with his father the day before had dulled somehow. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to breathe deeply. It was the first time that he felt truly and honestly relaxed all day.
Arthur wished the moment to never end.
Maybe they could stay here, sleep till morning.
From next to him, he could feel Merlin moving. He cracked his eyes open a fraction and watched Merlin extend his hands up to the sky, allowing golden sparks to gently flow from the tips of his fingers to rain on them. Arthur couldn’t help but smile in wonder as the sparks gently caressed his face.
A breath later, the sparks stopped falling down and instead started twirling around each other, making shapes above them, a circle, a bird, a dragon. Arthur opened his palm for the dragon to rest there. It stood proud, his forelegs raised up and his wings opened wide before it bowed for him.
Arthur couldn't stop looking, couldn't stop marveling at all the beauty pouring smoothly from the hand of this man laying beside him. No matter how many times he saw Merlin’s magic, he’d always stare in awe. His father had it wrong. He had it all wrong.
The dragon vanished in a shower of glowing dust.
Arthur’s smile slowly got smaller watching what was left of the dragon disappear. He swallowed against the lump in the back of his throat, then cleared his voice, “you should be more careful with that,” he said quietly
Merlin shrugged from beside him. “You sound like mother.” He didn't sound annoyed.
Arthur sighed. “You know she’s right. If someone sees”—
“No-one is around and unless you’re planning on dragging me to the pyre”—
“Don’t joke about that.”
A sigh in response.
“I told father I would be out supervising patrols around the castle this evening,” Arthur confessed when they had been quiet for a while.
Merlin laughed. “Who knew you had it in you, lying to the king,” he said and nudged Arthur’s side with his elbow.
Arthur snorted. “Of course,” he closed his eyes and knit his hands under his head, before adding, smugly, “You seem to forget who used to steal the wine for us from the kitchens.”
Arthur could feel Merlin’s offended gasp before he could hear it. He tried to hide his smirk but wasn’t sure he was entirely successful. Merlin, however, propped himself on his elbow and hit Arthur on the chest, not at all playfully. “That was me, you ass! ” He didn’t take his hand back at that. It was warm where it rested on the middle of Arthur’s chest.
Arthur shrugged. “Well, I was the one who planned it. I'm very good at that,” he tried not to physically wince at the memory the last sentence seemed to bring, because Merlin was surely to notice that. Father in the throne room, telling Arthur what his plan was, not even waiting for an answer. Arthur shook his thoughts at the image, tried to hold on to the warmth of the memory Merlin’s words were bringing forth, of them as boys, stupid and curious, of Arthur convincing Merlin that his stealth would make him perfect to slip into the kitchens unnoticed.
“Yes, very good indeed, Your Highness,” Merlin was saying, bringing Arthur back to the present. Arthur marveled at the way his title sounded like the worst insult imaginable from Merlin’s mouth. “Very good at getting people to do things for you.”
The last sentence was soft spoken into the night but Arthur caught it anyway. He smiled despite the insult Merlin was trying to make it into. He got lost in the memory again, that day so clear in his mind. He had been twelve and Merlin eleven. They still hadn’t been allowed to drink wine back then yet. Arthur had been indignant. How dare they not allow him to taste any wine! It was a feast and he was the prince ! But he hadn’t dared to say anything in fear it might come back to his father. He had told Merlin, however, who said he hadn’t been allowed to drink any yet either. So, together, they devised a plan to sneak into the kitchens before the feast to steal one of the wine pitchers without anyone noticing.
It had worked surprisingly well, if Arthur could say so himself. The frenzy of the feast preparations made it easy to sneak out without anyone seeing them. They had spent the entire time laughing and running, hiding from the servants who seemed to be around every nook. In the end, half the wine had ended up on the floor and their clothes because they didn’t have any cups and the pitchers were designed in a stupid way. Hunith had found them, a couple of hours later, drunk out of their minds behind Merlin’s house.
“Do you remember how mad Hunith was that day?” Arthur reminisced. “I thought smoke was going to come out of her ears.”
Merlin let out a soft laugh at that, a beautiful thing that made Arthur’s insides feel warm. “That’s easy for you to say. She likes you. You got off with a warning and I had double the chores for a week.”
“Well, I am very likable. It’s one of my many talents.”
Merlin rolled his eyes. “Being very annoying is one of your many talents.”
Arthur smiled, their easy back and forth making him feel at ease more than he had felt in days. He’d missed this. Suddenly, it all felt fleeting in a way that made his breath catch in his throat.
Merlin must’ve noticed something because at once, Arthur could feel him tense. Maybe it was because Arthur hadn’t replied to the quip, come to think of it. What were they even saying? He couldn’t remember.
“Arthur?” Merlin’s voice came a beat later, concern carefully concealed under deliberate nonchalance that might’ve as well fooled anyone else. “What’s wrong?”
Arthur brought his eyes back to Merlin’s. His expression wasn’t clear in the moonlight, but his concerned wide blue eyes were pouring into Arthur’s from under a couple of his black curls. He was overdue for a haircut, Arthur thought. He looked younger like this, like the day he found Arthur crying over a broken toy in the courtyard and fixed it for him. For a second, Arthur almost blurted everything out, almost told Merlin how terrified he was, of what his father had in plan.
But it wasn’t right, not now. Not with them here together, finally alone, away from everything.
Arthur placed his hand over Merlin’s and held it there.
Merlin’s eyes never left his, even as his hand tensed then relaxed in Arthur’s grip.
“What’s that you were saying, about my many talents?”
That earned him a startled laugh out of Merlin, easily carried by the wind in the quiet of the night.
It was Arthur’s favorite memory of Merlin from before.
…
Merlin wasn't in a mood.
He wasn’t . Gaius didn't know what he was talking about. Merlin was just exhausted. They had been working for days on end. Uther’s latest military campaign was coming home soon, so Gaius had had him stocking up on balms and potions for everything from wound infections to sore throats for days like the whole army was going to come home injured. Merlin still smelled of basil and lavender for goodness sake.
To top it all off, they were required to attend Uther’s celebratory feast that evening. Because the king said so, Merlin, and really can’t you just follow instructions for once without making a fuss?
Just like Uther to believe he could just order people to be happy.
Merlin hadn’t been standing at the gates to catch a glimpse of the coming party, thank you very much, no matter what Gaius had to say about that either. He was just keeping a lookout to know when they should expect the injured. Gaius should’ve been thanking him for being so concerned.
Merlin definitely wasn’t waiting on news about Arthur.
Merlin wasn’t worried. He had no reason to be. Besides, Arthur had to be alright anyway. Uther would’ve sent news ahead if something was wrong. He would’ve sent for Gaius, at least.
It didn’t matter anyway, Merlin was not thinking about Arthur, and he wasn’t worried.
Funnily enough, Merlin didn’t have to keep repeating that like a mantra to Gaius or himself, because a few hours later, Merlin found himself standing with a bag of medical supplies, staring at the wooden door of Arthur’s chambers.
Sometimes, Merlin wondered if Gaius did these things on purpose.
Uther’s campaign had returned late that afternoon. There were a few injuries here and there, nothing too bad and certainly not something you’d expect after the battle Uther described. Merlin could only grit his teeth silently when Uther said it. A slaughter was the more appropriate word, if you asked him.
Gaius had had his hands full from the moment the soldiers arrived. Merlin tried to help, but a part of him was thankful Gaius sent him away before he said something he regretted. If only so he could yell at the wall at the injustice of it all on the way to Arthur’s chambers.
Arthur had apparently suffered a small wound to his arm, as Gaius had informed Merlin before he shoved him out the door. Merlin hadn’t seen him get checked, but Gaius said Arthur sent word that the wound wasn’t dangerous and didn’t require immediate attention.
Now, Merlin stood there, unable to go back or force himself to go in, frozen in the hallway.
Time was, Merlin didn’t bother knocking before entering Arthur’s chambers. Time was, Merlin didn’t need to go to other people to know how Arthur was. Time was, Arthur came to him first after one of his father’s insane orders.
Maybe Merlin could go back to Gaius and give him some excuse, that he had found the door of Arthur’s chambers locked or that Arthur had told him to return later, which was ridiculous and also honestly beneath him. Arthur needed his wound checked. He needed Merlin to be the physician he was trying to become. Knowing Arthur, he could be seriously injured but as always had put the wellbeing of his men before his. Meanwhile Merlin was there standing before Arthur’s door like a heartsick fool.
A deep breath and a knock later, Merlin was facing a startled Arthur half sitting on his bed.
For a moment, there wasn’t a sound other than the rush of blood in Merlin’s ears. In all his planning for this moment, all his imagined scenarios, Merlin hadn’t once imagined being alone with Arthur. He’d always imagined it surrounded by people, in the courtyard or the throne room. He would see that Arthur was alright and he’d disappear. But there they were, after so long, after all the spoken and unspoken things that happened between them.
It felt silly for a moment, that he would feel that way in Arthur’s presence. A few weeks earlier, he would’ve laughed at the very idea.
“Gaius,” Merlin finally forced himself to say, then cleared his throat. “Gaius sent me to check on your wound.”
Arthur turned until his feet were on the floor. For a moment, he seemed like he was going to get up, but thought better of it. His only response to Merlin’s statement was a nod that made him wince and hold his right shoulder in his hand.
For the very brief moment Arthur had his eyes closed, Merlin allowed himself to breathe Arthur’s sight in. He ignored the way he could instantly spot the differences the journey of two weeks had done to him, mainly the light stubble and the golden glow of his skin from being in the sun for days. Arthur looked older, alluring, mature.
Merlin’s heart ached.
Merlin shook his thoughts away and forced himself to focus on the bloody bandage he could spot on Arthur’s arm. He had been right, the wound was definitely a bigger issue than Arthur had made out to be.
Merlin was by Arthur’s side before he could think. He barely stopped himself from reaching over and touching.
“Can I?” Merlin asked quietly, not meeting Arthur’s eyes.
Arthur nodded at that but not before Merlin could see the small frown that appeared between his eyes. Before Merlin could ask, Arthur was moving aside, making room for Merlin to sit beside him. He said, “it’s not that bad. I think it was an arrow, but not a very well-aimed one.”
Merlin snorted softly as he placed his supplies on the nearby nightstand. Some things never change, he thought. He came back to sit on the bed next to Arthur, but was careful to leave some space. “Yes,” he said. “Not as bad as the dislocated shoulder you got last winter. The one you wouldn’t let me have a look at until I’ve seen to the squire with the bruised knee.”
Arthur’s chuckle was a welcomed sound in the quiet of the room. Merlin could feel some of the tension ebb away with it.
Merlin didn’t take long to set out to work. He let Arthur remove his tunic and then he propped him properly to take a better look at his arm.
Merlin started by removing the dirty bandage that must’ve held Arthur’s wound together for days. He sighed in relief when a quick look at the wound proved that it wasn’t infected. The dried blood had made it look much worse than it was. It didn’t look like it needed stitching, but Merlin cleaned it well and applied a generous amount of Gaius’ balm to it. He bandaged it carefully as well, just in case.
A look at Arthur’s shoulder proved that it was injured as well, not dislocated, thankfully, but certainly in need of rest from use for a few days.Merlin made him a sling for it and gave him a painkilling potion for good measure.
Arthur had been silent throughout the whole procedure, letting Merlin prop him and examine him, watching him carefully when he thought Merlin wasn’t looking. It would’ve been unnerving had Merlin had the courage to look back.
“That should do it,” Merlin said, unnecessarily. He gave the bandage a last tug, making sure it wasn’t too tight but secure.
Suddenly, Arthur’s hand was on his and Merlin almost stopped breathing.
“Thank you,” Arthur said, too sincerely for Merlin’s comfort.
Merlin slowly looked from Arthur’s hand to his eyes. There were lines there that hadn’t been there a couple of weeks ago. Merlin cursed Uther silently and willed his heart to slow down.
“It’s my job,” Merlin said.
Arthur looked away, his hand fell from over Merlin’s.
When Arthur didn’t say anything else, Merlin took his hand away. He stood up and started gathering his supplies carefully, not wanting to look like he was in a hurry to run. He left a bottle of Gaius’ painkilling potion next to Arthur’s bed. For a moment, he watched the weak sunlight of the afternoon light the dark liquid in the bottle, making swirls of light appear inside.
Merlin forced himself to step back at last.
A soft call of Merlin’s name stopped him. Merlin had already turned away, pretending not to hear.
“Merlin—” Arthur called again.
A knock on the door came, silencing whatever was going to be said.
“The painkilling potion I gave you should last until morning,” Merlin said. He tried not to let his voice break like it so desperately wanted. The way the look Arthur was giving him made him want to let it. “You should drink that one when you wake up.”
Arthur opened his mouth to speak the moment another knock came from the door.
A moment of silence was followed by a sigh from Arthur. “Come in,” he called.
As the door opened, Merlin fled without a single glance behind.
…
The door was still vibrating on its hinges from where Merlin had slammed it shut behind him.
Arthur’s chambers were dimly lit. The fire in the hearth was the only source of light, making weird shadows on the wall behind Arthur’s form standing in front of it. He stood there looking into the fire, hands resting on the handle of his sword that was planted into the floor.
Slowly, Arthur turned his head to look at Merlin.
Merlin didn’t move from where he stood in the doorway.
“Your father is making you go with him,” Merlin declared calmly. The sentence hung in the air between them.
Arthur turned his head away to look back at the flames at his feet. He didn’t say anything, but it was enough of a response for Merlin.
“That’s what you were trying to tell me the night of the festival, wasn’t it?” Merlin went on.
It all made sense now. Arthur’s odd pauses and dejected mood that night. His duties that got him to disappear for days on end in the weeks that followed. It wasn’t his duties after all. He had been avoiding Merlin. Arthur didn’t want to tell him what Merlin had heard.
The servants had been talking about it only a few minutes earlier. Merlin had run up to Arthur’s chambers before he had had the chance to think it over. He knew if that was what Uther was planning for Arthur, then Merlin had to be there for him as soon as he could.
For months, Merlin had been hearing about how Uther was insisting on Arthur testing his military skills in action, but he had no idea a plan was already devised, and not just any plan. People who practiced dark magic in the woods nearest Camelot’s borders with Nemeth, as the servants who had heard it said. Dark magic users, Merlin scoffed in his mind, probably another Druids’ camp, or just a bunch of sorry sorcerers who were fleeing Camelot.
Arthur wouldn’t do it, Merlin was sure of it. He must’ve had a spat with Uther over it and that explained his moods.
But then what the servants said– the prince’s first military campaign . Merlin was sure he heard them call it that. Arthur was already confirmed to be going. Uther was making Arthur go, there was no other explanation.
Right then, Arthur was still silent, like he hadn’t even heard what Merlin said. Merlin’s heart ached for him.
Merlin ventured carefully into the room until he was close enough to feel the heat from the fire against his legs. He weighed his words carefully. There was no use saying something bad about Uther, because after everything, Arthur still held him on a pedestal, Merlin knew that much.
Merlin sighed and his hand was reaching over to Arthur’s shoulder before he could stop it. “Arthur, you don’t have to do this. You”—
Arthur scoffed.
Merlin’s hand froze midair.
“I have no choice,” Arthur said, voice cold. Foreign.
Merlin came closer. “Arthur, listen to me”—
“ No ,” Arthur said, his voice not only cold now but dangerously thin, making Merlin back away on instinct. “ You listen to me, Merlin.” At that, Arthur was looking at him now, the flames in front of them reflecting in Arthur’s blue eyes, obscuring their opal behind a wall of fire. “We’re not boys anymore. I have a duty to Camelot and to my father. These are dark magic users. They practice evil. I have to stop them. End of story.”
By the time Merlin was able to catch his breath, Arthur had looked away. The only sound in the room now was the crackling of the fire and Arthur’s loud breaths from his outburst.
Merlin didn’t move– couldn’t . He stood still beside his friend. For the first time since they were children, Arthur felt like a stranger. Merlin almost laughed at the thought.
Uther had really done it this time.
“We both know this isn’t about duty or dark magic or whatever you want to call it,” Merlin said calmly, sick of pretending, sick of sugar-coating it. Arthur had to hear this. “This is about you doing what your father wants in the hopes that he might be proud of you this time, and you and I know it won’t happen even if you kill every sorcerer in Camelot for him.”
Arthur’s eyes were wide when he turned to look at Merlin. “He is your king!” was the only seething response he got. Merlin watched the sword in Arthur’s grip get lifted higher.
Everything froze. Merlin was numb. The only distant feeling creeping at him was anger at the tears that stung his eyes. He gave the sword a quick glance and scoffed softly, looking into his friend’s eyes. “No, he’s not,” Merlin corrected, defeated. “I was hoping that you would be someday, but you’re going to let your king make you into his image before you ever get the chance to try.”
…
The great hall was depressingly vivacious.
Nobles, knights and invited guests filled every corner. There was food, musicians, and entertainment. Merlin had never so desperately wanted to be elsewhere.
Gaius and Hunith were there. Merlin’s mother had been helping Gaius for a few days, and so when Uther’s invitation to celebrate his latest victory had come, Gaius had insisted that Hunith attend.
And that meant that Merlin had to attend as well, if not standing in the shadows a little.
He wasn’t hiding. He was merely not in the mood for celebration.
Hell, he couldn’t even hide from Gaius or his mother here if he tried. He could feel their concerned looks in his direction every few minutes. Hunith hadn’t said anything about it, but Merlin knew she knew something was wrong. Merlin was already dreading that conversation.
Gaius had already guessed it and had tried to ask Merlin. His fallout with Arthur, he called it. Hunith hadn’t as of yet. Merlin suspected she was waiting for him to come to her. He just didn’t know what to tell her. She loved Arthur like a son. So what was Merlin supposed to tell her? That the boy she nearly raised and considered a son had turned out to be none other than his father’s son? It would break her heart.
Merlin did not think about how ironic that sounded in his head. He was not ready for it to be real yet.
Maybe he could sneak out if he was careful enough. It wasn’t hard, he’d done it before easily enough. The doors to the courtyard were already open so people could come in and out as they pleased. Merlin sent a quick glance his mother’s way and found her in deep conversation with Gaius. He slowly turned around and fled outside.
The night welcomed Merlin with a cool breeze. He could still hear the music from the inside, but it wasn’t as loud and there were fewer people. Merlin breathed and walked in the direction of one of the corners in the courtyard. It was secluded in the shadows but not enough that he couldn’t see people inside through the doors. So Merlin decided to count it as still attending. If his mother asked later, he’d say he went for a walk.
Merlin only saw him when he looked up.
Now this was more like the scenarios he’d been imagining. He almost winced at the cliche of it.
Arthur was standing on the terrace right above where Merlin sat. Merlin could recognize him blind. He was talking to someone and smiling a little. He looked good up there, too good for Merlin’s heart to handle. Foreboding and untouchable with the candle light coming from the inside surrounding him, making him look almost unreal. His arm was still in the sling Merlin had made, but he was holding a drink in the other and he was talking animatedly to whoever was with him.
The longing feeling in Merlin’s treacherous heart almost choked him.
“Look at him up there,” a voice close to Merlin said. For a moment, Merlin wondered if he had said his thoughts out loud, but when he turned, he found two men standing a little further away from him, apparently watching Arthur as well. Merlin recognized them as nobility from their dress.
“Already sucking up to the Prince,” the man who spoke first added.
Merlin looked up at Arthur again. This time, he gave the man with him a closer look. He was some noble’s son who arrived at Camelot in the past few days, if Merlin wasn’t mistaken.
“Of course he is,” the second man agreed.
“It’s so distasteful,” the first retorted with disgust. “A man of noble birth should be elevated by his status, not sucking up to the Prince like a commoner.”
Merlin tried not to roll his eyes. Typical . And these were the people Uther wanted for his son to keep close.
“If you ask me, I don’t think he needs to try. The King planned it as such. Who else is there to support him and his son other than the nobility of Camelot?”
“True. After all, our families are the ones that got Uther where he is today. His son will do well to remember that if he wants to be king.”
Suddenly, two things happened at once; the two men were silent and two shadows fell over Merlin. Merlin realized a little too late that he had snorted. Out loud .
The next moment, a hand was on Merlin’s shoulder and he was pulled up to stand on his feet. He winced and opened his eyes to see the two men looking him in the eye now. They were nobility alright. Merlin had seen them with the arriving party of nobles that had come to Camelot to congratulate Uther on his new win, and not just any nobility, old Camelot nobility .
The one grabbing Merlin’s shoulder squeezed it. Hard. “What do we have here?” he asked, amused.
The other man rolled his eyes, like Merlin’s entire existence was the last thing on his mind. “A servant eavesdropping on us for gossip, what else.”
The first one smirked. “Were you eavesdropping on us, boy?”
Later, Merlin would remember this moment as one he might’ve wanted to handle differently. Maybe one of those Gaius’ advice to talk when appropriate applied to. “I don’t need to eavesdrop when you’re talking loud enough to be heard all the way to the lower town.”
They both smiled at that. “Not just a servant. An insolent one. I wonder what Uther would have to say about that.”
Merlin had to fight every instinct in his body not to have both men on the floor with a blink. Now, that would be something Uther would have a say about.
“What do you think, boy, huh? Ready to be insolent to the King?”
Merlin’s mouth answered faster than his brain. “I think that if you really want to conspire behind someone’s back, you need to learn to be more discreet.”
Everything that happened next happened too fast for Merlin’s brain to process. First, the man holding Merlin up drew his fist back, Merlin closed his eyes, stealing himself for a punch that never came. Merlin wondered if he’d already been hit but his brain hadn’t registered the pain yet.
Then an angry “What the hell do you think yourselves doing?” followed by Merlin being let go and falling to the ground had Merlin open his eyes. There were three people standing over him now.
Merlin needed a second to recognize Arthur. He was standing between the two noblemen, twisting the arm of the man who’s meant to punch him behind his back.
They were both talking over each other now. Merlin could hear various versions of Arthur’s titles being getting thrown around, followed by explanations of Merlin being insolent and disrespectful.
Merlin looked away as he got up, holding his shoulder in his hand, pretending to look at it. That bastard of a noble really had strong hands, he almost dislocated Merlin’s entire shoulder.
“Merlin is a member of my household,” Arthur was saying, voice full of authority, making Merlin look at him. “If he’s offended either of you, it’s on me and I apologize. However, if any harm comes to him, you’ll have to deal with me first.”
A few more apologies and fumbling for words later, Merlin and Arhur watched together as the two men practically ran inside into the great hall. It would’ve been hilarious if Merlin didn’t feel like he wanted to run too.
Merlin rubbed at his shoulder for a second, trying not to let his tongue put him in another mess for the second time that evening. “You didn’t have to do that,” he said, still looking in the direction of the great hall. He’d meant to say it as a way to thank Arthur and leave, but he couldn’t help adding, “I don’t need rescuing.”
“I know you don’t,” Arthur agreed easily, making Merlin look at him with surprise. “Just wanted to make sure you didn’t do anything stupid.”
Merlin narrowed his eyes. “Something stupid like defending myself?”
“Yes,” Arthur said, then closed his eyes when he must’ve seen Merlin’s expression. “I only meant something that might put you in danger.”
“Right,” Merlin scoffed. “Wouldn’t want your father to know you’re defending someone you should run through with a sword instead.”
Arthur’s mouth clamped shut at that. He stepped back from Merlin, looking like he'd just been slapped.
Merlin regretted his words almost immediately, but he was tired and hurt and angry and he didn’t have much energy left in him to control himself. So much for not letting his tongue get him into another mess.
“How can you say that?” Arthur said, voice hurt. Merlin hated how his heart stung at it.
“You already condemned people like me to a similar fate, why should I be different?” Merlin was asking before he could stop himself. He’d promised himself he wasn’t going to bring it up again, not with Arthur. But Arthur didn’t get to worry about him, he didn’t get to defend Merlin and expect Merlin to stay silent about it.
“Merlin, please,” Arthur started but Merlin's hand stopped him..
“I need to go,” Merlin said, and left without a single look back.
…
Merlin stood in the doorway for almost a full minute, staring.
Arthur was somehow sitting on Merlin’s bed, twisting his hands together.
Merlin wondered if the lack of sleep had finally caught up with him. Maybe Gaius would let him set out some of his chores tomorrow if he knew Merlin had already got to the point of full on hallucinations.
“You were out late,” Arthur said. “It wasn't the tavern, was it?”
Merlin dropped his bag onto the floor. He rolled his eyes. This was Arthur alright. He closed the door behind him but didn’t come closer.
“How did you know I was here?”
“Hunith.”
Merlin took a deep breath. He should’ve known.
“She said you were staying at Gaius’ for a while, to help out with extra work. Gaius wasn’t here when I arrived either.”
Merlin crossed his arms over his chest. He knew what it meant when Arthur rambled on like that. He wanted to talk, but Merlin wasn’t about to crack that easily.
“So, what was it?” Arthur asked.
“What?”
Arthur rolled his eyes. “The reason you were out late.”
Merlin crossed his arms over his chest and sighed. “What are you doing here, Arthur?”
Arthur looked down at his hands, a small frown between his eyes. He seemed to think it over before he looked back at Merlin. “My wound.”
Merlin’s arms fell to his sides. “What?”
“My wound,” he said again. “It started to hurt this afternoon and the potion you gave me didn’t work.”
Merlin’s eyes instantly moved to Arthur’s arm. He couldn’t see the bandage under Arthur’s tunic, but his traitorous heart softened all the same. “What happened?” He asked. He cursed himself silently at how all his exacerbation vanished in the air. He wasn’t backing down, he told himself. He just needed to see to Arthur’s wound and be done.
“I don’t know,” Arthur said and moved aside, making space for Merlin with him on the bed. Merlin gave the space a look and sat down gingerly, pulling his bag of medical supplies with him. “It just started to hurt for some reason.”
Merlin sighed, already looking in his bag for what he needed to dress a wound. “It was probably the training you did with the knights this afternoon. I told you to lay off it for at least a fortnight. Let me see.”
Arthur didn’t say anything to that which was alarming on its own. He allowed Merlin to remove his sling silently and then took off his tunic without Merlin having to ask.
Merlin was suddenly very aware of three things; that his bed wasn’t that wide for him to move away, that they were sitting very close, and that Arthur’s skin was very warm under his hands.
The bandage came off easily in his hands when Merlin tucked at it.
Arthur was silent all throughout Merlin’s inspection. He only hissed when Merlin touched his wound and Merlin pulled his hand away instantly. He breathed a quiet apology before he moved Arthur’s arm aside to get a better look. The wound looked healthy, the edges raw but pink and nearly closing, no signs of white exudate or discoloration that signaled an infection. Merlin cleaned it well anyway and covered it with Gaius’ balm. He was just starting to rebandage it when Arthur’s hand found Merlin’s wrist. His touch was so light, but it stopped Merlin immediately. Merlin looked up from where he was zoning in on the wound to find Arthur watching him carefully.
“You were right,” Arthur said softly. “About the camp. You were right. They were sorcerers fleeing Camelot.”
Merlin almost stopped breathing. Arthur’s hand on his wrist dropped and the clean bandage between Merlin's fingers slipped to the floor.
Arthur was looking anywhere but at Merlin. “Father had us attack at dawn. They were unarmed, sleeping. They had children with them, Merlin. I tried to help them run. A few fled, but there was so much happening all at once. I”—
Merlin couldn’t hear more. His mouth opened and the words were out before he could stop them. “Glad you followed your father’s orders now?”
Merlin could feel Arthur stop breathing under his hands. He didn’t mean to sound so bitter.
Arthur was silent for a long moment. He stood up abruptly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come. I’ll go.”
“No,” Merlin said, pulling at Arthur’s arm, pulling him down to sit with him. Arthur fell back easily. Merlin picked the bandage off the floor and folded it in his lap gently. When he looked up, he was met with Arthur's questioning eyes. Merlin took a deep breath and spoke evenly. “You did what you could,” he finally said.
Arthur looked away and closed his eyes.
“Arthur,” Merlin called, gently, like he was coaxing a child to listen. He let his hands reach over and touch Arthur’s cheek, turning Arthur’s head around. Merlin waited until Arthur opened his eyes before he spoke again. “If you hadn’t been there,” he said, “no-one would have survived. Not a single person would’ve made it out, do you understand?”
Arthur’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. Merlin wanted to hide him from the world. “It was a slaughter . I just stood there as father”–
“It’s not on you.” Uther was the one who did what he did. Merlin would be damned if he let Arthur think it was his fault. “I’ve seen your heart, Arthur. I know the man you truly are and it’s not Uther’s son.”
Arthur looked down. He was silent for a long time before he reached over and placed his hand over Merlin’s, holding it. When Arthur spoke next, his voice was the strongest Merlin had ever heard it. “I promise nothing like that will ever happen again as long as there’s breath left in me.”
Merlin breathed. He slowly let his head fall until his forehead rested over Arthur’s uninjured shoulder. He was too tired to resist any longer. Arthur’s hand was warm over his back as he held him there.
Arthur’s next words were a soft breath against Merlin’s ear. “I’m sorry.”
“Really?” Merlin’s voice was muffled against Arthur’s skin. “Because you haven’t made that quite clear.”
Merlin could feel Arthur’s shoulder shake before he could hear him chuckle. Arthur’s hand moved from his back to his hair, gently moving his fingers into it. The touch made Merlin shiver.
“Thank you,” Arthur said.
Merlin moved away just enough to look Arthur in the eye and see his small smile. Merlin had no idea how much he’d missed the sight until he could feel his heart melt at it. “A sorry and a thank you at the same time, who are you and what have you done to my Arthur?”
Merlin winced mentally when his words clicked. He saw Arthur's smirk and knew he was done for.
“ Your Arthur, huh?”
Merlin looked away. “I only meant”—
Arthur’s voice became impossibly smug. “Yes?”
Merlin narrowed his eyes and hit Arthur on the shoulder. “You’re insufferable.”
Merlin’s heart fluttered as he watched Arthur laugh at the insult. He almost didn’t regret what he had just let slip out as long as it let him hear Arthur’s laugh again.
Arthur looked down at where their hands were still laying together. He squeezed Merlin’s hand in his and Merlin watched as he laced their fingers together.
“I am, you know.” Arthur said, making Merlin look at him.
“What?”
“Yours.”
Merlin only stared at Arthur’s sincere eyes, looking back at him with not even the hint of a joke in them.
“As I am yours,” Merlin said simply. “I’ll always be yours.”
Arthur smiled brilliantly as he reached over and pulled Merlin into a kiss.
…