Chapter Text
1.
Unlike most people on a hunting trip - who aim to kill a deer - it seems Merlin only ends up hurting himself. Not that his royal highness cares, as long as he brings home dinner. Usually Arthur allows his manservant to remain at the castle so he doesn’t fall behind on chores, but the prince insisted he accompany on this hunt. Nevermind the company of the knights and all of the other servants in the castle, it had to be Merlin.
And so here they are, just the two of them, having left the rest of the hunting party behind with the horses when the path became too narrow and difficult.
He stumbles over a rock and earns himself a glare from Prince Charming. “Could you be any more of a clumsy bumpkin?”
Merlin sighs, rubbing his arm where a branch snagged and tore through his tunic, leaving an angry red scratch. “If your highness commands it.”
“Don’t be a smart ass,” The prince huffs in return, cutting through branches with his sharp sword. “Why did you even come?”
Merlin halts where he stands and the prince seems to sense it, sheathing his sword as he faces the sorcerer. A battle is fought in their exchanged glances, until Merlin breaks the silence. “You asked me here! Oh forgive me, I meant commanded. You commanded me!”
The prince frowns. “Keep your voice down, you’ll scare the game.”
Merlin bites the inside of his cheek, wishing he could just use his magic to disappear from this job, this kingdom, Arthur. Well, not Arthur. Somehow - he’s ridiculously bound to this arrogant bloke who’s only ambition is to spear a wild boar. He didn’t know why he thought it would be different - nice, even - that Arthur had personally invited him. He imagined rolling fields and easy conversation. Instead, the path was wet and slippery from the morning storms and the clouds continued to gouge out the sun.
“And when I summoned you here, I imagined you’d actually be helpful, not hindering the endeavour,” The prince’s eyes wrinkle in that scornful, disappointing way that drives Merlin crazy. “But this is you we’re talking about.”
Normally, those comments rollover Merlin with no effect because he’s intentionally been playing the fool around Arthur to keep his magic a secret. But now, it simply hurts. It pulls at the strings of their makeshift friendship and Merlin finds his mood entirely soured.
Merlin draws in a breath. “I would rather be anywhere else in the world than here.” The implied ‘with you’ hangs in the air like a poisonous fog.
The prince throws his hands in the air, armour clinking. “Why did you come then?”
“I was commanded,” Is his reply even though it’s not entirely true. He would go to the ends of the earth for Arthur, if only to make him smile. He has thought about unburdening every secret for far too long, wishing to share every part of himself with the man he has come to know. This perfect, ridiculous idiot.
The prince’s lips tighten. “Leave then! I don’t need you. I can do this on my own.”
“Fine.” Merlin drops all the equipment he’s been carrying on the ground, all of Arthur’s hunting gear. “If that’s your command.”
“It is.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
Merlin nods, even though a lump has settled in his throat. Is he really truly so replaceable? So useless? Does Arthur only see him as a means to an end? Fine. His eyes burn a little, but he marches back down the path, back the way they came. The quiet of the woods after a storm is slightly unsettling, and he knows he’s still far from where the knights have set up a little camp for lunch.
This is just typical of Arthur. Inviting him and making him regret every second of everything.
What’s worse is Merlin knows he will fall for it over and over again, thinking that there is an ounce of feeling beneath that gilded breastplate, beneath that princely demeanour.
There are glimpses of the true Arthur beneath this shallow and unfeeling exterior - a deeply compassionate person actively seeking to change his kingdom. There are flickers in his smile, when Merlin says something particularly witty, in the quiet hours of the night in the study, the moment right before Arthur falls asleep. The quiet is more telling than anything Arthur ever says.
The mud is slippery under his boot, and one misstep has him flying off the path, tumbling through bushes that opened up to a tumultuous ditch.
After what feels like forever but is likely less than a minute, Merlin lands harshly at the bottom of said ditch, mud soaking into his clothes. He curses distantly, managing to get a grip on the soft earth beneath him.
“Bollocks,” Merlin says to himself when he peers at how far he fell. It’s not insurmountable, but an inconvenience. All parts of him ache in new ways, and he has the overwhelming urge to just lay here and let the forest take him. What with the saving-Arthur’s-life-every-ten-seconds to helping Gaius late collecting herbs to being the best manservant(no matter what the prince says) to fulfilling his destiny, he is exhausted. He hasn’t seen the business end of a pillow in so long, he’s forgotten what they feel like against his head.
“Merlin?” A voice calls distantly. An angel perhaps. “Bloody hell, Merlin!”
He cracks his eyes open and finds the prince staring down at him.
“So you’re alive.” The prince puts his hands on his hips.
“Were you worried about me?” Merlin’s heart skips a beat despite himself, and he allows a small smile.
“I don’t have time to search for another manservant,” Arthur huffs. “Come on then.”
Merlin’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. He’s sure he didn’t pass out, so not even time has passed for Arthur to actually be looking for him. “How’d you find me so quickly?”
Something twitches in Arthur’s face. “Nevermind that. Get up, we’re heading back to camp.”
He holds out his hand and Merlin takes it without complaint. He’s surprised by the ease of which the prince pulls him to his feet.
“You alright then?” Arthur laughs at the mud clinging to Merlin’s clothes like a desperate lover.
“Fine - ouch!” His ankle ignites with threads of sharp pain that ripple up his leg. He would have fallen again if not for Arthur catching him, arms securely around him.
The prince is not amused. “You’re hurt.”
“Am not-” Merlin tries to walk only to collapse back into the prince’s arms, teeth clenched. “It’s fine, really.”
“Merlin, quit being a dollophead,” Arthur sighs and rolls his eyes. “Just admit you’re hurt.”
“I’m well, really.” It’s a lie and they both know it.
Merlin shouldn’t have expected Arthur to scoop him up like frozen cream, but he does - effortlessly. Like he’s done it a thousand times before. He probably has damsels in distress. Oh god - is he a damsel? What he doesn’t expect is to be extremely comfortable like this, hands wrapped loosely around Arthur’s neck.
“Next time,” The prince touts his disapproval, “Save us both time by being honest.”
If only. That lump settles in Merlin’s throat again, and he elects to be quiet.
“You don’t plan to carry me the whole way,” Merlins realises after a while.
“What else?” The prince scoffs like there is no other conceivable option. “You’ve already wasted enough time for one day.”
“What about the hunt?”
“Nevermind the hunt.”
“But! You can’t-”
“Gaius isn’t here to examine your ankle. It’s not safe,” Arthur insists, and it sounds more like a command than anything.
“I could’ve fixed it! It would’ve been fine,” Merlin huffs out before he realises what he is saying. It’s too late, the words are out of his mouth and the air has invariably changed.
“How, Merling? Unless you’re a sorcerer-” Arthur stops walking, standing still as he gives Merlin the meanest, most shock expression the sorcerer has ever seen. “Can you do magic?”
“What?” Merlin tries to deflect, playing up his stupidity. He laughs. “That’s ridiculous.”
“You can, can’t you?” Arthur’s voice is so full of surprise, as if he’s just reached the twist ending of one of his adventure stories. “Dammit, Merlin!”
He sets his manservant on the thick trunk of a tree fallen on the road. Merlin thinks for a terrifying moment if Arthur will just abandon him here to the wolves.
Arthur paces in front of him, expression inscrutable. “It all makes sense. Everything always ends up too nicely. I thought it was because I was a good prince.”
“You are,” Merlin tries, and earns himself a scowl. “Are you going to kill me?”
Arthur looks heartbroken at the mention. “Kill you?”
Merlin swallows, the lump in his throat expanding tenfold. “Yeah.”
“Kill you, Merlin? My God , I should kill you just for suggesting it!”
Merlin tries to ponder that one and finds himself laughing. His laughter rings through the echo of the forest. Suddenly, Arthur is tackling him(gently?) and they’re both on the ground, laughing.
“You’re an idiot,” Arthur grins, looming above Merlin with those eyes that glimmer with sincerity. He knows this is the real Arthur above him. And he is a magnet for all Merlin’s desires.
The mantle of prince and servant are gone - they are just two men, two friends, in a forest. They are lost in the trees, one with the earth.
For a gloriously horrible moment, Arthur lingers before finally rolling off of him, laying next to him on the road. Their feet were perched on the trunk and they were looking up at the bits of sunlight that peaked through the thick layers of leaves.
“Do you really think I would kill you?” Arthur asks quietly.
“I-” Merlin can feel his eyes on him. “I hoped you wouldn’t. I worried that your duty to your father…that he might-” Merlin sighs, eyes trained on the flashes of light up above. “He persecutes people like me, Arthur.”
“Do you really think I would let anyone hurt you?” Arthur props himself on one arm. “You’re the only one who can clean my armour right, the only who who knows how I like my meals, when I need things, my schedule-”
“You always complain about my job,” Merlin smiles, aglow with the moment.
“It’s just so I can talk to you,” Arthur laughs, then his eyes find Merlin’s and they are suddenly so much closer than they’ve ever been before. “I like talking to you.”
“You don’t have to complain at me,” Merlin shook his head softly. “You can just tell me about your day, whatever’s on your mind. I can just be with you.”
“I don’t think that’s what manservants are for,” Arthur says but it sounds more like a question than anything.
“You’re going to be king. Manservants are for whatever you say they’re for.”
They both laugh, and Arthur’s hand slaps lightly against Merlin’s chest, stays there. Merlin lets his hand rest on Arthur's.
This is nice
, He thinks.
“All this time, you’ve had magic,” Arthur muses. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You know why,” Merlin’s thumb scrapes against Arthur’s rough knuckles. “I’m not safe here.”
“You’re safest here. Right here.” Arthur squeezes his hand, his expression determined, almost angry.
“You love your father,” Merlin says gently. “You love your kingdom.”
“I love…” Arthur trails off. “I don’t want you to die, Merlin.” His hand falls from Merlin’s. “But magic is…”
Merlin’s eyes glow as he erases the prince’s memory, his heart like a jackhammer in his chest. The lump in his throat seems to choke him. He watches the prince blink, rub his eyes, disoriented.
“What..?” The prince asks, getting to his feet, brushing off the mud. Upon seeing his servant, his face turns into a scowl. “Merlin! I thought I told you to head back to camp.”
Merlin swallows back the tears and puts on his best foolish smile. “I fell.”
“I can see that!” Arthur sighs like he is the most annoying person in the world. I like talking to you, echoes in the back of Merlin’s mind. “Well, get up then! The hunt is over now that you’ve scared every animal away in a 50 mile radius!”
Merlin tries to stand, only to collapse, if not for Arthur’s reluctant hand.
The prince rolls his eyes. “I am not carrying you back to camp.”
“Wouldn’t expect you to,” Merlin says, but his mind is spinning. Did he just erase Arthur’s memory? He didn’t mean to, not exactly - it just sort of happened. Not only that, but it worked! His heart was on fire. Everything ached and the pressure building behind his eyes was almost painful.
“You alright?” Arthur asks.
“Yep, fine.”
“Normally you’d have some insufferable remark.”
Merlin bites the inside of his cheek as Arthur puts Merlin’s arm around him. They hobble back to the camp.
~*~
His ankle has healed, thankfully. He used magic as soon as they got to the palace and pretended to laze around once Arthur declared him “useless” for work for the next two days.
Which is nice. Not being around Arthur who is practically a drug, who destroys his inhibitions. He throws caution to the wind when he’s around.
He would die for him, not just because he is the prince, the future.
Merlin’s destiny revolves around Arthur, but he was never meant to fall in love with him.
~*~
2.
“You called me, sire?” A week later, Merlin stands in Arthur’s quarters at dinnertime to see the man enjoying a meal. No doubt Arthur has a list of chores for him to complete by the morning.
“Merlin,” Arthur’s eyes light up. “What are those?
Merlin looks down, notices the wild flowers he picked at dusk in his hands. “For your table.”
“What would I do with flowers?”
“Well,” Merlin shrugs. “You complained last time I brought Morgana some.”
“King’s don’t complain,” Arthur snaps. His gaze softens. “Sit.”
“I don’t understand.” There must be some condition, perhaps this was some kind of scolding - some artful punishment for something he did. He did make Arthur trip on his laces after the prince did a poor imitation of him in front of the knights.
“You never do,” Arthur raises his eyebrows in amusement. “I’ve been thinking.”
“Well don’t strain yourself,” Merlin says as he reaches for a vase and uses Arthur’s own pitcher to fill it up, plunking the flowers in and setting it on the table. Eventually, he sits, cherishing the deadpan expression on Arthur’s face.
“Is it just me or are the knights going easy on me?” Arthur asks, continuing to eat. The spread is luxurious, with various meats, vegetables and biscuits. It makes Merlin’s mouth water.
“You’re the prince, Arthur,” Merlin laughs. “If they beat you, they’ll be hanged.”
“How am I expected to improve if I always win? The enemy wouldn’t hold back!” Arthur sighs. “Everyone feels the need to tiptoe around me, it’s infuriating.”
Merlins shakes his head, barely containing his smile. “Yeah, you must hate everyone catering to your every need like you’re a prince or something-”
Arthur throws a biscuit and Merlin catches it only after it bounces after his face. He takes this opportunity to eat. Usually, he eats dinner with Gaius but this is nice. Whatever…this is.
“You’re the only person who should be, and you don’t,” Arthur says, but his smile gives him away.
Merlin enjoys the buttery biscuit and even licks his fingers. “You’d get bored if you had a bootlicker for a servant.”
“Well, I’ll never know, will I?” Arthur huffed jovially, throwing back his goblet of wine with ease. “After everything you’ve tumbled into, it’s a wonder you’re not dead.”
“Trust me, I’m surprised myself.”
“Honestly, Merlin, what would you do without me? You’d probably be dead.”
Merlin smiles at the irony. “I’m so lucky to be picking up your dirty socks.”
His stomach rumbles as he catches another whiff of that excellent pork. Oh well. He’ll just have to have a late dinner when he gets back to Gaius’ after he finds out what Arthur wants.
The sound of a plate sliding against the table catches his attention. Arthur has just pushed the plate of pork toward him nonchalantly.
“What?” Merlin asks. “Not flavoured enough? Want me to send it back?”
“Merlin,” Arthur grates out like he is the stupidest man in the world. “I can’t possibly eat this much. You don’t want this to go to waste, do you?”
“I- I don’t understand,” Merlin’s gaze flickers to the mouth-watering plate suddenly in front of him.
“Well I know that, you cabbage head!”
Then it hits him, Arthur wants him to eat. He glances up at the prince once more just to confirm before digging in. And god, that meat is just spectacular. Juicy, flavorful, and just amazing. Utter heaven.
“My god,” His eyes roll back into his head. “You eat this every night?”
Arthur grins. “What is Gaius feeding you?”
Merlin laughs in disbelief. “Not this.”
“No wonder you’re so skinny,” Arthur huffs like it’s his inconvenience.
“No wonder you’re so thick-” Another biscuit collides with his head. And they’re both laughing.
Arthur is sliding his goblet toward Merlin. “Try this, in case it’s poisoned.”
“You’ve already drunk half of it,” Merlin says through chuckles, but still raises the cup to his lips. The wine warms his stomach and he can die right now, content and happy. “Why am I here?”
That question seems to catch Arthur off guard. “What do you mean?”
“It’s just - you usually have me running around, doing chores,” Merlin shrugs, reaches for another biscuit. Why is he being so nice to me , he thinks. Why is he being so kind?
“Would you like to do chores?” Arthur threatens, and Merlin shakes his head. “You’re the only normal person I can talk to in this caste, the only one who tells me the truth.” Merlin’s heart twists. “Even when I don’t want to hear it.”
“So, you’re saying,” Merlin laughs. “You want to talk to me. Is that really what manservants are for?”
“I’m the prince,” Arthur brushed off his shirt nobly. “Manservants are for whatever I say they’re for.”
“Indeed,” Merlin smiles.
They finish dinner, empty another pitcher of wine and somehow they end up on Arthur’s bed, far past any decent time. The whole of the palace is quiet now, and only a few candles are lit in Arthur’s room.
They lay next to each other, the air thick with merriment and wine.
“-and almost every time I come home, my feet are bruised from the women stepping on them while we dance. It’s horrible!” Arthur laughs, and his laughter is like a song, a warm fire. Merlin wishes he could be consumed by such warmth.
“Have you ever thought, just maybe - stay with me on this one - it might be you.”
“Merlin, one day I’m going to feed you to the bears.”
“The royal ones? Or just random bears in the woods?”
Arthur laughs, the bed shaking beneath them. “You know, you really are an idiot.”
“And yet, you still put up with me,” Merlin sighs, his chest aching from laughter. “I should be heading back. It’s late-”
“Please-” Arthur reaches out immediately. “Just…you’ll wake the whole household. Just stay.”
His hand in his, Merlin forgets all reason. There is only Arthur.
This time, he lays down, head on the other’s chest. He thinks Arthur might push him off but instead, a hand goes to his hair. He is exhausted, perhaps he can rest here, relishing in the sound of Arthur’s heart and his warmth and his soul and…
“Do you think things would be different?” Arthur husks after a moment.
“If what?” Merlin rumbles, distracted by the gentleness of such coarse hands, trained to kill since birth.
“If I wasn’t a prince, and you weren’t…”
“A sorcerer,” Merlin finishes before he can stop himself. The wine made him stupid, no doubt.
“A sorcerer,” Arthur says quietly. “No wonder I haven’t died. I always thought it was an angel looking out for me.”
“And you were right?”
Arthur laughed. “Instead I got you.”
“I’m funnier than an angel anyway,” Merlin whispered.
“I’d beg to differ.” He can hear the grin in Arthur’s voice. “If we weren’t us , I think we’d get on.”
“You think?”
“So you’re magical,” Arthur’s voice grows grave. “My father-”
“Let’s talk about this tomorrow,” Merlin mumbles, and sleep pulls him like a long lost lover. This must be a dream, a fantasy. His stomach is full with good food and his blood is warm with wine. He is cuddled against the love of his life as if the world doesn’t exist outside.
He falls asleep after that and enjoys the sweet nothingness of a dreamless sleep.
.
.
.
.
Merlin wakes before dawn, untangles himself from the still sleeping Arthur, brushing a strand of hair out of his eyes. He is so peaceful when he sleeps, and he hates to leave him.
His eyes glow and he waves a hand over the prince.
The warmth is gone and by the time he wakes, Arthur will have forgotten the dinner and their entire conversation. Merlin tells himself it’s for the best, despite the lump in his throat. When he pulls his hand away from Arthur, the prince groans softly. It hurts like an arrow to the heart.
A few hours later, he wakes the prince up by opening the curtains, and the prince responds by throwing a silver goblet at him. Thankfully he’s hungover enough to miss.