Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Chapter 1

The only warning Merlin got was the loud stomping before the door to King Arthur’s rooms banged open. 

“You!” Arthur said, red in the face and out of breath, pointing at where Merlin was sitting at the table mending one of his tunics. Merlin raised his eyebrows in response. 

“You!” Arthur repeated, took another couple of breaths, and closed the door in the face of one of the guards who had followed him.

“What is it now, Sire?” Merlin sighed. He had no idea what he had done wrong, but Arthur looked ready to explode, which Merlin found rather unfair, since the only thing he’d done this morning after waking and feeding Arthur was to sharpen his sword and mend his clothes.

“You. Have. Magic!” Arthur roared, pointing at Merlin more aggressively.

“Ah.” That would explain why Arthur had come up to him to yell right in his face. Though, no – not right in his face. Arthur had stayed as close to the exit as he could get. It made Merlin want to snort, but that would be very unwise.

“Ah? Ah? You’re not even denying it?” If Arthur continued like this he would no doubt pass out from the amount of blood that had moved to his very red head. 

“You should take a seat.”

“Take a— No, Merlin, I’m bloody well not sitting down! You have magic! You don’t even deny it!”

Merlin sighed. “What’s the point? You obviously already know.” Arthur just gaped, and swayed on his feet a few seconds later because he was very clearly forgetting to breathe in his rage. 

“Why— You— How— You—” were the chopped off words Arthur managed to utter before he swayed a bit too far and went down. Merlin scrambled up but it was too late – Arthur had crumpled, but not before hitting his head against the wall like the idiot he was.

Merlin levitated him to the bed and examined him, checking his head for anything worse than a bump, and perhaps letting his fingers linger in the blond tufts for a few seconds. 

He then cast a quick healing spell, just to make sure Arthur wouldn’t be even more addle-headed than he already was. He nonchalantly went back to his work, waiting for his king to wake up, pondering how he could salvage this situation. (And mostly trying not to start breathing so hard he would pass out himself.)

How had Arthur even found out? It wasn’t like he’d been any more obvious about it than usual – he wasn’t obvious about it at all, really, no matter what Gaius said.

Arthur sat up in his bed with a loud inhale, almost giving Merlin a heart-attack. The first thing Arthur did when he saw Merlin was point and say “You!”. 

This was getting old.

“Yes, me,” Merlin said with a sigh. If he acted like this was no more important than when Arthur got upset at his lack of manserving skills, maybe Arthur would pick up on that and act accordingly. Maybe. If the universe was on Merlin’s side, for once. The universe owed him that, really, given all the hard work he’d done so far.

“You’re a sorcerer!” Which, hadn’t they established that ten minutes ago? This idiotic conversation wasn’t getting anywhere—

Hang on. Arthur was an idiot. Merlin had exploited that so many times already when it came to hiding his magic. Why shouldn’t he exploit it now?

“Me, Sire? A sorcerer? Of course not.”

“You have magic! I saw you! And you don’t deny it either!”

Merlin rolled his eyes in the most ostentatious way possible. “Well yes, of course I have magic. I’m a warlock.”

“You just said you weren’t a sorcerer!”

“Exactly.” He could see Arthur getting red in the face again. At least he was still in bed so if he collapsed once more it wouldn’t be a problem. “I’m a warlock. That’s a completely different thing.”

“How is that different? You have magic!” Good point, Arthur. There was no difference. But how would Arthur know that?

“Druids have magic. And yet, druids aren’t persecuted left and right in Camelot, because you know druidic magic is not the same as sorcerer’s magic. Druidic magic isn’t evil, you know that. I’m a warlock, not a sorcerer.”

Arthur looked so confused. It was adorable. “So… You’re saying that you have magic, but it’s druid magic?”

“Ah, no. Warlock magic is not—” Merlin stopped himself. No need to overwhelm Arthur with technicalities. Besides, some druids had taught him things. “Well, there is some druid magic in there, yes. There is an overlap. But mostly, it’s warlock magic.” 

More confused blinking on Arthur’s part. It would actually be rather endearing, if there wasn’t the threat of banishment-imprisonment-execution hanging over his head. “I was born with magic, you see. I used it on the very day I was born. That’s why I can’t be a sorcerer.”

“So warlock magic is…,” Arthur trailed off. Poor Arthur. Merlin was just too good at spinning tales.

“Not evil, my lord. Obviously. You know me. I’m not evil.”

“You’ve had magic since birth and you never told me!” Right. That might not entirely fit within his whole ‘not evil’ rationale. “Lying is pretty evil, Merlin,” Arthur added on when Merlin didn’t respond. At least he sounded more admonishing and hurt than angry now.

“Well, it’s not like I could have told you earlier—”

“You didn’t tell me at all,” Arthur muttered but Merlin soldiered on.

“—you would have burnt me on a pyre for sorcery. Because, you know, you weren’t mature enough to see the difference between a warlock and a sorcerer. Not sure you’re mature enough for it now, but here we are.” 

Arthur spluttered indignantly, but Merlin didn’t give him a chance to talk. “Now if you don’t mind, I have other duties to attend to. If you intend to burn me or lock me up or something, it would be great if you could let me know before dinner.”

Merlin walked straight out with Arthur calling him back at increasing volume until Merlin turned the corner. Well, at least Arthur hadn’t told the guards to arrest him. Merlin held onto that sliver of hope.

OOOoooOOO

Merlin rose the next morning to the usual silence – or as silent as mornings at Camelot could get. When he went up to the king’s room to wake up that lazy arse, he found the bed empty. The sheets were undone, so Arthur had slept. Or attempted sleep. Merlin would understand if last night’s revelation troubled his rest – Merlin had barely slept himself. 

Merlin tried to do his duties to the best of his non-magical capabilities – and maybe some with his magical capabilities as long as no one else was around – but it was hard to do his work properly because, well. He was Arthur’s manservant. As in, he was supposed to serve Arthur. And Arthur was nowhere to be found. Normally he would be rather happy with that, since it rarely happened and he could do with a break, but…

Arthur hadn’t suddenly vanished. That had been Merlin’s first thought when after the first couple of hours he hadn’t seen him anywhere. But the guards and knights were adamant; they had seen the king just a few minutes prior, they swore. Wherever he went, it was the same story. Arthur must have told them to spin that lie – he was avoiding Merlin, that was clear. And that hurt. A lot. But Merlin did his best to stop looking for Arthur around every corner and did his best to do his work regardless. 

He brought lunch up to the king’s room because he didn’t know where else to take it. When he came back from checking on Arthur’s horse – and make sure it was still in the stables – the food was half eaten. The same thing happened for dinner. Merlin could have ambushed Arthur, certainly, but antagonising someone who could order you to the dungeons or worse was a bad idea. Besides, he didn’t want to know what kind of expression would be on Arthur’s face when he saw him. Hurt? Anger? Disgust? He could imagine it well enough, thank you very much.

Merlin really wanted to know how Arthur had finally found out his secret, though. Arthur had been so sure Merlin had magic – he must have seen it with his own eyes, surely. Merlin had been careful, he always was. The last time he’d used magic in a more out-in-the-open, rather obvious way was during the patrol last week to a nearby village that had disappearing and rampaging cattle and horses. The monoceros that had been ‘freeing’ those poor animals had been quite the pain to deal with. But Arthur had been very much occupied with the mind-controlled cows – how could he have seen anything?

Arthur’s ‘absence’ lasted three days. Or rather, Merlin made it last three days, because he couldn’t continue polishing a breastplate when Arthur was holding the trial of a sorceress in the throne room. It was a stroke of luck that he’d heard two pages gossiping about it, really. This was why Merlin couldn’t leave Arthur’s side for two minutes. Disaster always struck when he wasn’t around. (Not that disaster didn’t strike when he was around, but at least he could do something about it then.)

Merlin snuck into the throne room through one of the servants’ doors just in time to hear the farmer accuse the bound, kneeling woman of using sorcery. 

“I swear, my lord, her potion made my son glow blue and his fever broke instantly! That’s not the work of a physician!”

“You are the one who paid this woman to heal your son, correct?” Arthur asked.

“Yes, but I never paid for my son to be infected by sorcery!”

“And is your son well now?”

 “Yes but that’s not the point. Sorcery is outlawed, my lord! Aren’t you going to do something about it?” The court erupted in murmurs, and Merlin heard the closest noble mumble something about the pyre.

Merlin could see the conflict in Arthur’s eyes and it gave him a glimmer of hope. Arthur addressed the woman. “Do you deny healing his son?”

“No, your highness. I did indeed brew a potion to heal him.” She glanced up at the farmer. “By the way, I saved your son. You’re welcome,” she spat at him.

“Shut up, sorceress!” the farmer spat back.

Arthur sighed. “And do you deny using sorcery to brew that potion?”

Suddenly Merlin had an idea.

“No, I don’t—”

Merlin rushed forward. “No!” he said loudly, stepping in front of the kneeling woman and luckily interrupting her on time.

“Merlin,” Arthur growled.

“Arthur, she’s not a sorceress!”

The farmer spluttered. “Of course she is, I saw her.”

Merlin shook his head vehemently. “She’s not a sorceress, Sire. She’s a witch.”

An eerie silent fell over the court and Merlin felt the intensity of all the stares directed his way. 

“And what, pray tell, is the difference?” Arthur asked. His tone indicated he very much wanted to pinch the bridge of his nose and sigh, but his face remained impassive and kingly instead.

“Obviously this woman uses witchcraft, not sorcery. Witchcraft is based mostly on potions or potion-enhanced magic.” Merlin turned around and caught the woman’s eye. He widened his eyes and discretely nodded Arthur’s way.

“Ah, yes. Sire, it is true, I am a witch.”

“And witchcraft is based on natural ingredients – and you know nature is where druidic magic comes from,” Merlin continued. The woman made agreeing hums beside him. “So witchcraft is linked to druidic magic.”

Arthur was frowning. “And sorcery?”

“Is not. Obviously.”

“I see. So you are not a sorceress?” Arthur asked the woman.

“No, my lord.”

“And you have not used sorcery?”

“No, my lord. Only witchcraft, my lord. And only to help people.”

The court was an angry beehive at this point, and Arthur silenced them by standing up. “This is my judgement. This woman is not accused of sorcery.” The farmer started to protest, saying she had still used magic, and Arthur glared at him until he closed his mouth with an audible snap. “However, she has healed this man’s son using witchcraft which is not what he paid for. Therefore her punishment is to pay this man back one and a half times the price for the trouble it caused him,” he announced. 

The farmer looked outraged, and Arthur walked up to him to firmly stare him down. “You can use the money to see a non-magical physician who can tell you if your son is adversely affected by the magic in the potion.” He turned around with a swish of his cape. “I declare this petition closed!”

A guard came to undo the woman’s bindings, and she left with a nod at Merlin, loudly bickering with the farmer all the way out of the throne room and down the corridor. Merlin turned to Arthur with a smile on his lips, but the throne was empty and there was no crown peeking out among the crowd anywhere. 

Ah. Merlin breathed through the pinch in his chest. Arthur was still avoiding him like the plague, then.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2

Arthur was speaking to him again! As in, he said things like ‘pass me my tunic’ and ‘where is my sword’ and ‘how come you’re such a terrible servant even with magic’. However, he refused to listen to anything that was more than three words long. If Merlin were to even think of broaching the subject of magic it would be ‘shut up, Merlin’ even if the only thing Merlin had done was open his mouth to speak.

So even if going on patrol was not Merlin’s favourite activity – but hey, at least it wasn’t hunting – Merlin was glad Arthur had remembered to take him along. Especially when out of nowhere the forest darkened to a near pitch-black and a fireball came hurtling out of the treeline straight towards Arthur. 

It was so sudden Merlin didn’t have time to react; luckily Arthur had legendary reflexes and leaned all the way back to evade it without even a singed hair. He even managed to keep his horse from doing more than snort uneasily. The knights were shouting in alarm, but because of the black fog it was hard to locate anyone who wasn’t a couple of feet away – hopefully that fireball hadn’t hit someone else in head. 

And then another fireball came at them from straight ahead. “Merlin, do something!” Arthur yelled, and Merlin’s instinct was to say something along the lines of ‘what do you want me to do, I’m just a servant’ when he remembered he wasn’t just a servant anymore. It was all right to be a warlock too, now.

With an outstretched hand Merlin caught the fireball and sent it back the way it came. There was a yelp, and the darkness fled before the light of midday. On the road an old man was, well, on fire. Merlin doused him with a thought while Arthur jumped off his horse and drew his sword.

Right, a sorcerer. Wait, no—

“Arthur, don’t! He’s not a sorcerer!”

Arthur’s sword stopped inches above the man’s arms, outstretched to protect his head as he knelt in the dirt. “He just threw a fireball at me! What else could he be?”

Merlin quickly slid off his horse to join him. He took his time looking the man over and peering at his half hidden face. “He’s a mage, of course. And I can make fireballs too, you know. That doesn’t mean anything.”

“A mage. A mage! And how do you know that?” Merlin was pretty sure that if Arthur hadn’t been pointing his sword at the man he would have petulantly crossed his arms; that’s what the tone of his voice suggested, anyway.

“Well, he has white hair,” Merlin said, which once he’d said it sounded like the lamest possible reason to be a mage.

Arthur thought so too. “A lot of sorcerers have white hair!”

Merlin shook his head. “Not as many as you’d think, Sire. Besides, I can tell he’s a mage, since I’m a warlock.”

The man let his arms fall. “You’re a warlock?” he asked, incredulous – why did no one ever believe him when he told people to their face that he had magic?

“Tss, obviously a mage. He can’t even tell a warlock from a servant. Mages are stupid.”

“I’m not stupid!” the man said indignantly. As if Merlin wasn’t trying to save his life here! Merlin glared at him.

“You’re a mage, of course you’re stupid. Don’t listen to him, Sire, he might confound you with his idiocy.”

The man was gaping, and in truth so was Arthur, but Merlin kept his thoughts – like, the ‘mage’ had obviously already infected Arthur with his idiocy – to himself.  Really, giving his regular idiocy, Arthur must have met a ‘mage’ at birth.

“This is insane,” Arthur muttered.

“Oh no, it’s already started,” Merlin said in an alarmed tone. He grabbed onto Arthur’s shoulders and shook him. “Stay with me, Arthur. Don’t let him get to you!”

“It’s not me he’s got in his spell, it’s you,” Arthur said with an eye-roll.

“Ah, it’s not a spell. Idiocy is not magical, but it is contagious.”

“Don’t worry, I’m immune. I’ve survived years of your service after all,” Arthur said with a wicked smirk.

Merlin smiled brightly – it was nice seeing Arthur acting normal again – but he did also want to kick Arthur where it hurt most. It was Merlin who had survived years of being in Arthur’s service, not the other way around.

“So what do I do with a mage who attacked me, then, if he’s not a sorcerer?”

“Well, what would you do with a bandit who tried to steal your money?”

“I wasn’t tr—” the man started to say, but Merlin’s glare shut him up real quick. Gods, this man was an idiot!

“Imprisonment,” Arthur said with narrowed eyes. “But pray tell, Merlin, how do you imprison someone who can throw fireballs?”

“Oh, don’t worry your pretty head about that, Arthur. As your resident warlock I’ll take care of it.”

The man was arrested and bound by the knights, and back towards Camelot they went. Which meant Merlin had to think up a way to keep magic-using criminals inside a cell. He really needed to get Gaius to tell him how people dealt with magical offenders before Uther came along to muck it all up.

OOOoooOOO

If Merlin had thought Arthur would be a bit less evasive after saving his glorious blond locks from a fireball, he would have been sorely disappointed. Luckily, Merlin was a bit of a pessimist these days, so the lack of Arthur all around didn’t hurt as much as it could have. Besides, he had a lot of work to do, what with making a cell in the dungeons magic proof, and that on top of his normal duties.

Not seeing Arthur did get on his nerves, though. It must be his usual paranoia. (It wasn’t like he was missing Arthur’s stellar personality, right?) After all, Arthur always managed to get into trouble when Merlin wasn’t around. 

It gave Merlin a funny feeling in his chest, not knowing where Arthur was. So a couple of days after the mage debacle – once said ‘mage’ was secured in a cell with magic-dampening shackles – Merlin decided to take the day off and go Arthur-hunting. 

While he was looking for the magic-blocking spells, he’d come across a nifty-looking concealment enchantment. It took him a couple of tries, but soon his body blended in with the background, akin to what his book called a chameleon, whatever that may be.

When he crossed Gaius’ chambers, the old man looked up with a frown and soon followed Merlin’s location with his eyes. “Merlin?” he called.

Merlin sighed. “Can you see me? I really thought this would make me invisible.”

“What are you up to now?”

“Nothing. Just going to stalk Arthur because he’s evading me. But if this isn’t working I’ll have to find something else.”

Gaius smirked. “It works. This invisibility spell is really effective when you are immobile, and it distorted colours when you move. Also, it can make you invisible, but it by no means makes you silent.”

“Ah.” Not the most practical enchantment for stalking people, then. It was more a fly-on-the-wall kind of thing, then. “Do you happen to know an invisibility spell that makes you properly invisible?”

“Not if you intend to become visible again, no.”

“Ah.”

“Good luck, my boy.”

So Merlin kept to the emptiest corridors, hugging the walls, ready to freeze in place at any time and staying as quiet as he could. He happened upon Arthur outside the council room and followed him from afar, first to the throne room where he spoke with a noble, then to the stables where he petted his favourite horse. 

Arthur seemed tense. He kept glancing around, and more than once Merlin thought Arthur might have noticed him, but his eyes swept over Merlin without seeing him. 

Merlin followed him up to the battlements where they stood for a while, watching the people of Camelot go about their lives. Merlin almost missed it when Arthur slipped through the door and down the tower steps and he hurried after him.

Arthur was already way down the corridor and Merlin risked a tip-toed jog to catch up to him. When he turned the corner, there was Arthur, and there was Excalibur – Merlin barely managed to stop in time not to impale himself. In one swift movement Arthur had shouldered him against the wall, and the sword stopped dangerously close to Merlin’s invisible throat.

“Show yourself,” Arthur barked.

“Hey! Hey, wait! It’s me! It’s me!”

The pressure on Merlin’s ribcage eased a fraction. “Merlin. What are you doing?”

“Uhm…”

“Did some sorcerer curse you?”

“Ah, no, I made myself invisible.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and let go of Merlin. “Well can you make yourself not invisible?”

“Yeah, just, give me a second.” It took Merlin three tries to be able to see his arms again – three tries during which Arthur, arms crossed, looked more and more impatient at Merlin’s most recent shenanigans. 

Merlin checked as much of his own body as he could. “Do I look normal again?”

“Define normal.”

“Very funny.”

“You look fine.”

Silence fell in the deserted corridor. Arthur looked forbidding, and Merlin did his best to look confident despite his sheepishness. Arthur sighed loudly.

“Don’t you have work to do?”

Merlin crossed his arms, mirroring Arthur. “I took the day off. So did you it seems.”

“I can’t take a day off, I’m always the king. And you need my authorisation to take the day off. You can’t just do whatever you want, Merlin.”

“Well I could hardly ask you since you were nowhere to be found.”

Arthur’s eyebrows lifted. “Looks like you found me easily enough.”

“Only because you didn’t see me, you mean.”

“I’m pretty sure I just proved I could see you pretty well,” Arthur said, gesturing at the wall Merlin had been pinned against not five minutes ago.

“You didn’t know it was me. Doesn’t count.”

“Fine. And why were you following me on your unauthorised day off?”

Merlin’s mouth opened to answer with a very clever comeback, he was sure, except no sound came out because he didn’t have one. He hadn’t expected to be found out by Arthur. ‘I had a funny feeling’ wasn’t the kind of excuse that Arthur would appreciate. 

Besides, Merlin’s funny feeling was not like the funny feelings he got when something actually bad was going to happen. It was more that he’d been missing Arthur, really. But he wouldn’t tell Arthur that either.

“Just checking you were still in one piece, really. I mean, I’ve been doing it for years, I just used to be able to do it while visible.”

“I don’t need your protection, Merlin.”

“Don’t you, though? I could tell you of many occasions when—”

“No. No, you don’t get to do that. Claim like you secretly harbouring magic was a good thing all for my benefit. Don’t follow me again. I’m sure you have actual duties to attend to.”

“But Arthur—”

“If I ever need your expertise, Merlin, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

Arthur turned on his heels and walked away without a single glance back. The funny feeling in Merlin’s chest returned, except now it felt more like something scratching away at his very soul. 

Good job, Merlin. You made it all worse. He leaned against the wall and banged his head against it a couple of times to clear it. He should have known following Arthur was a bad idea. It was always better to let Arthur come to him once he cooled down. He was such an idiot.

Merlin swiped at his cheeks, put on his best impassible manservant face and headed to the armoury. Arthur’s chain-mail needed mending.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3

A week later they were on a quest. It was uncanny how quests always managed to find Arthur. First it had been Uther sending them every which way, on ridiculously useless quests and ridiculously dangerous quests alike. After Arthur became king Merlin thought the frequency of quests might diminish.

He had been wrong. Very wrong. Because the second any type of issue, no matter how small, appeared somewhere inside Arthur’s realm, Arthur felt the need to deal with it personally. It turned out Arthur despised being king, because sitting on a throne and making policies was boring.

Merlin should have known Arthur didn’t have a mature bone in his body. Case in point, Arthur kept throwing glaring glances Merlin’s way, as if to say he hadn’t forgotten about his invisible stalking stunt. As if Arthur hadn’t personally come to order him to accompany him. Arthur really should make up his mind about whether he wanted Merlin here or not.

At least this current quest was not completely useless or ridiculous. Young women had been disappearing from a village in the White Mountains and no one knew when and how they disappeared.

By the time they arrived there was no young woman left in the village. Which, as Arthur put it, was unfortunate. It was awful, really, but unfortunate was the word Arthur insisted upon. Because if there were no young women to see disappear, how were they going to find what caused this unfortunate phenomenon? How very unfortunate. (Merlin was certain Arthur kept repeating the word in order to see him scowl).

Just to be contrary Merlin said, “Well, we can always make one of you pretty knights into a woman.”

Arthur glared at him. “My knights aren’t pretty.”

“Hey!” said Gwaine, but Percival stopped him from saying anything else.

Merlin blinked innocently up at Arthur who was still regally sitting on his horse. “Are you sure none of the knights here are pretty?”

“Certain.”

“I see. How strange. You usually like compliments. I was thinking you would make such a good woman, Arthur.”

Arthur spluttered and the knights guffawed under the disturbed stares of the villagers. “I think you’ll make a better woman, Merlin, since you’re such a girl,” Arthur countered, and Merlin crossed his arms.

“As the resident warlock I can’t be bait. Given the way these women disappeared there is a significant chance the source is related to magic.”

“I don’t see why you can’t be bait. My knights and I can take care of any magical foe.”

“Can you though?” Arthur opened his mouth to probably say that of course he could, he always had, and Merlin could see the instant the self-doubt set in. “Can you really?” Merlin added just to hammer the final nail in the coffin.

“Shut up, Merlin. I don’t want to know.”

“Funny. First you yell at me because I didn’t tell you anything about my magic, and now that I’m ready to tell you the whole thing you don’t want to hear it.”

Arthur finally dismounted with a metallic clang, his armour shining with a perfection that could not be achieved by regular means. Not that Arthur knew that. “Yes, well, Merlin, we do have other things to do this fine afternoon then listen to your self-important tales.”

“Yes, you’d call them self-important, you’re the main character,” Merlin muttered. He shook his head and turned around. He smiled brightly at Gwaine.

Gwaine was the obvious choice. He was the prettiest knight – if you didn’t count Arthur – and starting with a good base would make the transformation so much easier.

 “Gwaine, my friend! How about you become a woman for the night?”

The knight pulled out his smoothest leer and Merlin regretted his choice of bait already. Sure, Gwaine would make a stunning woman, but his character was the worst for the task.

“That depends on how much of the night you intend to spend with me once I’m a woman, dear warlock of mine,” Gwaine said.

All of a sudden Arthur was blocking his view of the lewd knight. “He’s not your warlock, he’s mine,” Arthur growled. The silence that followed was rather impressive. Merlin couldn’t see Arthur’s face, but he could certainly see the back of his ears and the way they turned bright red. Merlin hid a small smile.“I mean, he’s Camelot’s warlock. Which is why, as the king, he is my warlock. That’s all I meant.”

“Of course you did, Sire,” Percival said. That man always managed to seem so genuine and innocent in his responses. So many people underestimated his intelligence because he was so tall and burly.

After the staring contest ended, Gwaine had to add a cheeky ‘I’m all yours’ that made Arthur audibly grind his teeth. Merlin just rolled his eyes and gestured at Gwaine to come closer.

“Remind me how many times you’ve done this, Merlin?” Gwaine asked, suddenly much less enthusiastic.

“I didn’t count. And it all depends on what you mean by ‘this’. Do you mean transformations in general, or transformations into women? Or do you mean transforming myself, or transforming other people?”

“All of the above?”

“Wait, you’ve transformed yourself into things?” Arthur said, as if that was the most preposterous thing he’d ever heard.

“Dragoon.”

“What about that horrible old man?”

Now Merlin was a bit offended. Sure, old men were hardly popular – look at Gaius and the fear he always inspired, or Geoffrey and how people avoided the library like the plague – but ‘horrible’ was a bit much. He had helped Arthur out many times as Dragoon. This was hardly fair.

Gwaine suddenly started to laugh. “Wait— hah, you’re saying— you are, ha— you, hahaha!”

“Yes, well, as you can see I have experience transforming myself. Now stand still.”

Next to him Arthur gasped and murmured ‘no’ while Gwaine doubled over with laughter. Merlin tuned them out and repeated the right phrase in his mind – what he thought he remembered was the right phrase anyway – before opening his eyes and enunciating it clearly. Gwaine’s laugh cut off abruptly, like something had blocked his airflow. A flash of very bright golden light made everyone groan and look away.

When they blinked the world back into colour, Gwaine the knight was gone. Instead, a young woman sat in the mud, swimming in the heavy armour that hung askew, her long brown hair hiding most of her face. She blew the hair away in a very Gwaine-like fashion, only for it to fall right back. She made an irritated noise and grabbed a fistful of the hair to throw it over her shoulder.

“Did you have to make it so long— Oh. Huh. Is that my voice? I sound so strange. Do I sound strange?” The silence stretched. “Guys? Hellooo!”

“Yes, you sound strange. Merlin, couldn’t you just, I don’t know, transform his armour into a dress or something?” Arthur said, crossing his arms and very pointedly not looking at Gwaine.

“I don’t know how to do that.”

“But you know how to transform a person into a whole other gender. Right. What was I thinking.”

“I just learned the magic that happened to be useful in the moments I needed it, Arthur. I’m not a walking magic encyclopaedia. Which, you know, doesn’t exist anymore, magic encyclopaedias. I’m lucky I have the one book I have.”

“You have a magic book.”

“Yes, Arthur, I have one book, and it saved your royal behind many times, so you’re welcome.”

“Oh, hey, don’t mind me, I’m just a woman at the moment. I’ll go ask those nice villagers if they have a dress from one of their missing daughter lying around then, won’t I? Yes? Fine, just continue your glaring contest, don’t mind me.”

Gwaine stomped away, Percival following in his wake.

By the time the trap was set and they were waiting in the shadows for something to happen to Gwaine, Arthur and Merlin weren’t glaring anymore. They weren’t speaking either. But then, what else was new?

Arthur was so confusing. Wanting him to use his magic one moment, berating him for it the next. It was like Arthur accepted magic except when he didn’t, and it appeared to be completely random. Though, why was Merlin surprised by that? Arthur had always been erratic, accepting of things like friendship with a servant or knights of non-noble birth – and then throwing Merlin in the stocks at the drop of a hat.

“Hey, look!”

At the whisper of one of the knights, Merlin was pulled back to the situation at hand. Gwaine was on the move, even though he had been ordered to stay in one of the farmer’s homes and pretend to sleep. The singing wind and nightly wildlife had a strange undertone to it, a musicality and beat that Merlin had never heard before.

The knights had begun whispering among themselves, their amours clinking as they got more agitated and Merlin hushed them. “Listen! Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Arthur whispered back, now suddenly shoulder to shoulder with Merlin. Merlin couldn’t help looking at him – in the heat of the moment Arthur was finally acting normal and Merlin wanted to drink it in. He held Arthur’s blue gaze for a second too long and shook his head. Now was not the time to get distracted.

“There is some kind of… music in the wind.”

“I don’t hear anything.” The other knights shook their heads as well. “Maybe only you can hear it, if it’s magical.”

Merlin hummed thoughtfully and crawled out of their hiding place to join Percival. He had been sent to stay in the house with Gwaine, dressed as a farmer, but none of the garments fit him and he looked like a child who had outgrown his clothes overnight.

“What happened,” Arthur asked him.

“I don’t know. One minute Gwaine was sleeping, snoring away as he always does, and the next he’s up and out the door without taking his sword or putting on shoes or anything. I tried calling after him but I didn’t want to be too loud and frighten off whoever we’re looking for. I don’t think he heard me.”

“I think even if you’d shouted right in his face he wouldn’t have heard you. He’s under the influence of magic,” Merlin said before starting to walk fast in the direction Gwaine had gone in.

This was not good. This wasn’t some magical beast praying on young women, he could feel it. This was a magic user, and who said magic user said an intelligent foe often more dangerous than a beast.

“Do you know what’s doing this, Merlin?” Arthur asked when he’d caught up. The rest of the knights were jogging alongside them, armours clanking noisily. It was making the spell on the wind almost inaudible – what if the spell suddenly ceased? He needed to be able to hear if it did.

“Everyone stop!” he said, and whirled around. All the knights were alert, some with their hands on their swords, eyes darting every which way. Merlin held out his hands and muttered a spell to silence their loud gear – he could see the shock on Arthur’s face when his eyes must have flashed gold.

There was a beat of silence; so much silence in fact that it was as if no one was even breathing.

“What in Camelot’s name did you do?” Arthur growled.

“I made you noisy lot stealthy. You’re welcome.”

“How about you give us some warning next time, before you magic us?”

“Hush. I’m trying to hear the magic spell.”

“What spell?”

“The one on the wind! The one you can’t hear? Seriously, Arthur, try to keep up!”

While Arthur sputtered incoherently Merlin went back to walking up the path that lead up the hill into the forest. The two torches the knights were carrying really weren’t doing the trick so he added a couple of magical lights, but even then he couldn’t tell if Gwaine had stayed on the path or not. He’d never been good at tracking.

“Merlin! Remind me to throw you in the dungeons when we get back.”

“Certainly, Sire. Now could you please tell me if Gwaine walked up this way?”

Arthur sputtered some more. “You don’t even know where we’re going? What kind of warlock are you?”

“One that doesn’t know how to track footprints if the soil is as dry as this. Luckily I know a king who’s a very good hunter.”

Arthur tssked and got down on one knee. “Give me some light.”

With a look Merlin ordered one of his balls of light to hang above Arthur and brighten enough to make the path nearly sunlit without blinding them all.

“This is very useful, Merlin. How come you’ve never used it before? You like to see me stumble around in the dark, do you?”

“Yes. And also, I like to not be burnt at the stake for sorcery. I think stumbling in the dark was worth it, don’t you?”

Arthur stayed silent, but Merlin could hear him internally brooding and grumbling nonetheless. The eternal ‘why didn’t you trust me with your life-threatening secret, aren’t I your friend’ debacle. And Arthur didn’t like the ‘I wasn’t always your friend, and you were always my potential executioner’ counter-argument, so in the end they didn’t talk about it at all. Merlin and Arthur’s usual dynamic in a nutshell.

Chapter Text

Chapter 4

The whole company followed Arthur over the overgrown dry road – it was a mystery how the man could track barefoot footsteps on this terrain – until they suddenly veered off onto a thin wildlife trail that disappeared into the thick overgrowth. This was apparently an easier track to follow because Arthur’s pace picked up, and soon they saw the wisp of cream of Gwaine’s dress disappear behind a bush.

“Gwaine! Gwaine!”

Percival ran up to him and grabbed him by the shoulder. Merlin wanted to hit the big oaf on the head for his stupidity – what if they broke the spell that was leading Gwaine to wherever the magic user was? This was the whole point of Gwaine being bait – they had to let the spell run its course first.

Gwaine twisted his shoulder out of Percival’s grip and continued on as if he’d never heard or seen him. “See, that’s what I was talking about. He has been enchanted, Sire,” Percival said once they’d joined him.

“We know, Sir Percival. Let’s keep our distance so that we can find whoever is doing this. Knights, extinguish the torches. Let’s stay quiet,” Arthur said. From then on they crept on in the dark, keeping low and darting from tree to bush, never loosing sight of the faint distant outline of Gwaine’s dress.

Until all of a sudden, he vanished.

They ran up to the spot they last saw him, and Gwaine was nowhere to be found. There weren’t any bushes or rocks to hide behind, no holes in the ground he could have disappeared in. In other words, magic was the culprit.

“I can feel something,” Merlin said, hand outstretched in front of him. It was like lightning in the air, heavy with energy, but it wasn’t physical. A barrier and concealment spell both, and he had no idea how to undo it. He needed books. No, he needed Gaius. Why did Merlin have to be the expert on magic around here? He wasn’t an expert! He barely knew anything!

“Well, what is it? What do you feel?”

“Shhh, let me think.” He couldn’t exactly tell Arthur he had no clue what to do. After all, transforming Gwaine into bait had been his idea—

Oh. Of course! Gwaine had gone through, either because he was a woman, or because he had been enchanted – but he’d been enchanted because he was a woman. Ergo, all Merlin had to do was be a woman. Easy. He closed his eyes, firmly concentrated on his body and said the incantation. 

He heard the knights gasp, and Arthur groaned and said “this is my worst nightmare,” and then Merlin’s ears were filled with song. 

A man’s voice, not really in tune, repeated the same sequence over and over. It tried to pull him somewhere, but Merlin didn’t want to go, thank you very much. He focused on Arthur’s face. The king’s mouth was moving, but no sound was coming out. Or more likely, Arthur was yelling at him but he couldn’t hear because this awful song filled his ears to the brim.

Merlin turned back to the barrier, only to find the barrier gone. Or rather, he could see beyond it, the road that led up to a shed and the movement around it. Merlin put his hand where the barrier should be, and he could still feel it. Better yet, he felt like he could pull on it, hammer it, and maybe then the awful music would stop. 

So he did just that. Given the face Arthur made, he could now see the hut too. And given the way the dancing around the fire paused awkwardly before it resumed, the maker of the barrier noticed it was gone. Still, the music went on. It was going to drive Merlin mad real quick. The second he found whoever was doing this he was going to strangle the poor bastard until he got rid of this very distasteful spell—

“Who are you?” cut across the song. The same voice, but louder, without the singsong tone. Merlin looked around for the source of the voice, but no one appeared out of thin air to greet them. Still up at the half-crumbling shed, then. Coward.

“I’m going to kill that bastard,” Merlin muttered and started to stomp up the hill. A hand landed on his shoulder, and he almost blasted the owner’s face to bits before realising it was Arthur. Merlin still couldn’t understand him, but he got the gist of it anyway. “I can’t hear you because of the spell in the air, but I’m sure the guy singing it is up there so let’s go.”

Arthur signalled his knights, and they rushed up the hill towards the hut. The dancing circle of fifteen or so woman split up and danced towards them instead, blocking their path and grabbing onto the knights as if inviting them to dance. At least half of the knights were caught that way, especially since their gallantry was stopping them from pushing their way through.

Arthur at least was slick as an eel – he had much experience evading dancing partners in court. And even when a woman managed to latch onto his arm he unlatched her with a push so gentle it only made her stumble.

Merlin had much more trouble getting to the shed, but the bubble of magic he put around himself after the third woman flung an arm around his neck and nearly choked him helped. In the end, only him, Arthur and Leon reached the hut unscathed.

Arthur kicked down the door without ceremony and in two steps had caught the shirt of the dishevelled barrel-like man trying and failing miserably to escape through the window. After the man had been dragged out to the fire outside and flung down on the ground, Arthur pulled out his sword and pointed it at the man.

“Stop the spell,” Merlin ordered before Arthur could speak. Arthur was glaring at him now, he could feel it, but Merlin didn’t take his eyes off the large, filthy, pockmarked man. “Stop it now or I swear—” Merlin made his magic flow around him, which he knew would make his eyes glow gold. The man paled even more.

“Yes, all right, just, uhm—” He got onto all fours and, hands trembling, drew symbols in the dirt. Then he said a flow of words Merlin had never heard before, and it was like a bubble burst and the forest was back to it’s nightly glory. All around them women gasped, and the air filled with ‘where am I’ and ‘what happened’ and ‘oh gods!’. The woman closest to them took a good look at the magic user and gagged. Another started sobbing.

“What did you do to them?” Arthur asked, his voice deceptively even. In other words, the point of his sword was a mere second away from being thrust into that wobbly throat.

“Oh, uhm, I, uhm—”

“Answer me, damn you!”

“I just made them walk up here, that’s all!”

“That’s not all,” Merlin spat, and the man scrambled back as if he was afraid Merlin would set him on fire. Which, in truth, wasn’t as far removed from reality as it might seem.

“No, that’s not all,” the man admitted. “I made them stay. And dance. And— And— K-kiss me, but that’s all, I swear!” A tidal wave of silence flooded the hill and the man stood up as if to plead his case.

“Sit. Back. Down,” Arthur growled, and the magic user’s knees collapsed. 

“I swear that’s all. I swear. I’m just so lonely. No woman ever looks at me. I mean, can you blame them, look at me. But I just wanted to experience what you pretty lot have. I just wanted to have women around me for once without them looking like they’d just walked in cow dung. You get that, right? My lady?”

The man was looking at Merlin, and it took Merlin a good second to understand the ‘lady’ was him. With a frustrated sigh he transformed himself back and stared the man down. The man who was now gaping at him like he’d seen the sun rise in the West.

“How did you do that?” he asked, eyes wide.

“Wait your turn, sorcerer. I’ve been wanting to ask that way before you,” Arthur said, waving his sword about for emphasis.

“Can you teach me? Can you make me handsome?” the man continued, completely ignoring the King of Camelot. A grave mistake.

Arthur changed his grip on his sword.“You won’t have to worry about being ugly or not, sorcerer,” he said darkly. His sword rose. “Not when you’re missing a head!”

Merlin really wanted to just let it happen, because this man was horrible and lacked any sense of morals, but for his ‘making magic not so illegal’ plan to work he had to intervene.

The sword swung right at the condemned’s throat, and Merlin stopped it mid-air with a flick of his wrist. “Arthur, no!”

“Are you kidding me?” 

Merlin could feel Arthur push and pull at his sword, but it wouldn’t budge. With a sigh he let it go, and it hung in mid-air, inches away from the man’s throat. Merlin left it there as a deterrent. 

Arthur crossed his arms and turned to Merlin. “Again? He enchanted Gwaine! And all these other women! You can’t tell me he isn’t a sorcerer!”

“Well, Sire, he enchanted these women because he’s an enchanter. He enchants. That’s what he does.”

“Sorcerers enchant too! Or have you forgotten about—”

“No, sorcerers curse. They don’t enchant. There’s a difference.” Gods, Merlin really had become way too proficient at lying.

“And how would you know that, Merlin?”

“Warlock, remember? Why wouldn’t I know?”

“Gaaah!” Arthur threw his hands up in the air and turned around. He breathed heavily for a few seconds before whirling around again and striding towards Merlin until their faces were a mere hands-width apart. Merlin gulped. 

“You,” Arthur spat, punctuating his word with a stab on his finger on Merlin’s sternum. Why did that make Merlin feel warm all of a sudden? Sternum poking wasn’t supposed to make your heart beat faster. Boy, he got it bad, didn’t he? 

“You are siding with the sorcerer.” Arthur whirled away again and missed the utter indignation on Merlin’s face. As if he’d side with that creep who thinks it’s all right to enchant whoever strikes his fancy. Before Merlin could protest Arthur started on what could only be an epic rant.

“What was I thinking? Of course you would side with the sorcerers! You’re one of them! For all I know you’ve enchanted me for years and— Oh. Of course. Yes, oh, that’s very clever. That was your plan all along! To enchant me, wait until I was king, and then take control of the land by nagging me into doing your will—”

Merlin had no words. All he could do was gape while his heart was stabbed to death. Luckily for him, Gwaine rarely took Arthur’s – or anyone’s – words to heart and so acted swiftly. As in, he walked over, still barefoot with swishing skirts, and quite simply cuffed Arthur on the head. That certainly stopped the king mid-rant.

“What—”

“Stop right there before you say something even more stupid.” Being a woman finally lend some weight to his words – Gwaine managed to look frighteningly serious and seriously frightening both. “Merlin has always been on your side, Arthur. He already had magic before coming to Camelot, and despite the risks has never left you. If I’d been him, I wouldn’t have stayed a day in your service. Merlin has been protecting you for years knowing he could be burnt alive for saving your life, but it has never stopped him. And you dare accuse him of taking advantage of you when you’ve been the one taking advantage of him?”

Gwaine didn’t look nearly finished, so Merlin quickly stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Thank you, Gwaine. I think I can take it from here.”

Gwaine’s eyes widened. “Oh. I didn’t mean to— Of course you can defend yourself. It’s just— Arthur was being such an idiot.” Gwaine scratched his head in a very Gwaine-like manner, and it looked utterly strange on his female form. “I’m used to you being Merlin the servant. Old habits die hard, I guess.”

“You could say that.”

They both glanced at Arthur. “What?” Arthur said.

“What?” Merlin repeated in his most disbelieving tone. “Let’s take it from the top. Yes, I am a magic user, but no, I don’t side with anyone who is clearly wrong,” Merlin glanced at the ‘enchanter’ who hadn’t budged, still looking cross-eyed at the sword hovering at his throat. “I’ve always been on your side, Arthur. Of course that doesn’t mean I haven’t disagreed with you on many things, but as you well know, I don’t hesitate to tell you when you’re a clodpole. And obviously, I haven’t enchanted you. If I had, you wouldn’t be a clodpole, for starters—”

“Stop insulting your king—”

“—and the second you became king, wouldn’t I have enacted whatever evil plan you think I’ve been concocting for years? Seriously, Arthur, do you even listen to yourself?”

“Well if you haven’t enchanted me how do you explain—” Arthur cut himself short. 

Merlin frowned when the silence stretched. “Explain what?”

“How do you explain—” Arthur started again, and stopped again.

Now Merlin was getting concerned. If Arthur thought he had been enchanted, but he couldn’t speak of it, then perhaps he had indeed been enchanted and Merlin had missed it.

“Never mind,” Arthur said quickly, but Merlin didn’t miss the clear panic in his eyes.

“Arthur, I’m not the one who enchanted you. How long ago did this enchantment start? What are the effects of the enchantment? You must have notice some, since you’ve realised you’re enchanted. Maybe it’s wearing off? But if you can’t speak of it then it’s still there and the caster still has control over it and—”

A heavy gloved hand landed on Merlin’s shoulder. “Merlin,” Leon said, his voice hiding a smile that Merlin could not explain. “Arthur hasn’t been enchanted.” Now the smile was actually written on Leon’s face.

“How would you know? Sir Leon, I’m the expert here.”

“Expert in magic, perhaps. But not in this particular type of idiocy.”

“What Leon is saying is that Arthur is being a blind fool,” Gwaine added. He was also smiling.

Merlin scrutinised Arthur’s face then. Arthur was beet red and gaping, and it took him a good few seconds to find his voice. “They’re, uhm. They are right. For once. I… am mistaken. It isn’t an enchantment.”

Gwaine slung his arm over Arthur’s neck, the angle very awkward because of the current height difference. “He’s just being his idiotic self, Merlin. Don’t mind him.”

Arthur didn’t even try to shake Gwaine off. He just stood there, neck titled under the weight, eyes closed, as if praying for this conversation to be over. Merlin narrowed his eyes. There was something fishy going on, and Gwaine and Leon seemed to be in on it.

“Excuse me?” came a voice from near the ground. Right, that horrible man, that’s why they were here in the first place. “Are you going to behead me or not? Because if you’re not, I’d really like to go pee.”

That seemed to put Arthur back to rights. “Yes, Merlin. Are we going to behead him or not, oh great warlock?”

“As much as it pains me… No, Arthur, he’s not a sorcerer, and he’s a citizen of your realm. Justice should apply to him like it does to anyone else.”

Arthur sighed. “A trial it is. Percival, Gwaine, you’re in charge of the prisoner. My ladies, let’s bring you home.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 5

After the whole enchanter debacle, Arthur had started to avoid Merlin again, and this time Merlin really didn’t understand why. All things considered, the enchanter debacle ended relatively well – no one was wounded, the young women were returned home and they were relatively fine… 

Really, there was nothing much that should make Arthur avoid him like the plague. Unless it was about the magical prowess he had displayed? Merlin certainly had used magic that was more visible, more ‘flamboyant’ as Gaius had put it once Merlin had told him about the quest. Maybe it had reminded Arthur of how much Merlin was not just a manservant. 

Case in point, George, whom Arthur absolutely loathed, was now the king’s manservant. When Merlin asked why in the name of Albion he had lost his job, he was told – by George of all people – that Merlin was much too busy with his new tasks. Said tasks were to get new, magic-proof cells built because the current dungeons should remain for the non-magical prisoners, as per Arthur’s orders. Oh, and to write a literal book called Magic Users And How To Recognise Them.

Now, the first task Merlin was quite all right with – he had already been working on that with Gaius ever since his whole ‘this isn’t a sorcerer’ scheme miraculously worked. It wasn’t Arthur’s idea at all, really, to separate the non-magical from the magical dungeons, but Arthur didn’t know that. Merlin had simply mused about the idea aloud in Arthur’s presence a week ago and voilà.

No, what bothered Merlin was this ridiculous encyclopaedia of magic users. Especially since Merlin had only come up with the ridiculous distinctions on the spot. Sure, people liked to refer to themselves by different names. The druids were a whole culture and branch of nature-based magic. Witches seemed to have their loosely defined group but Merlin didn’t really know much about it. Merlin called himself a warlock because that is what Kilgharrah called him – he wasn’t entirely sure was that distinction truly entailed. 

And now he was supposed to write about it all? Put everyone in neat categories that were broad enough to fit most people, but also specific enough so almost no one would fit the ‘sorcerer’ group? This was going to be an absolute nightmare. And when he asked Gaius for help, the old man just laughed in his face, saying this was Merlin’s mess. Which was true, but there was no reason to let Merlin sort it all out on his own. (He got Gaius to help him regardless; Merlin threatened with putting all of the old man’s characteristics into the Alchemist label and Gaius almost had an apoplexy.)

Merlin tried. Really he did. He’d written dozens of pages. And when he reread them he realised two very clear things. First off, he was a terrible writer. The worst. Even he couldn’t understand what he was blabbing about. And second, this was never going to work, because he could never categorise everyone and put them in boxes, because no one just kept to one type of magic – it all depended on people’s different affinities and skill and access to knowledge. 

Who was just a mage or just an enchanter? Most would be a wizard-alchemist-druid or an enchantress-priestess-witch or a warlock-mage-shaman-shapeshifter-conjuror or who knew what else. They couldn’t be labelled like that. They were all just magic users. 

So Merlin focused on the secondary task, the dungeons – it turned out there was plenty of unused space underground, an old armoury here, an old wine cellar there. Just shift some pantries a few rooms up and you had a perfect row of rooms that could be fitted with bars and magical warding. There was no natural light, unfortunately, but Merlin was working on a magical light source that would follow the pattern of the sun.

He was in the middle of edging magic-warding runes he’d found in a book into the ceiling when Arthur finally joined him. As always the prat managed to find the worst possible timing – Merlin couldn’t stop before he finished the row, so here he was, saying a long spell aloud, eyes glowing, the worst possible sight that his skittish king could find. From the corner of his eye he already saw Arthur slowly backing up, ready to slink away. Merlin spoke a bit faster, pushed a bit more magic into it, and the runes glowed a molten red as they drew themselves into the stones, but he got there just in time to call after Arthur before his cloak disappeared around the corner.

“Sire! Let’s go hunting!”

That certainly managed to stop the King of Camelot in his tracks. He stalked back into the bluish room, temporarily lit with magic torches. “Are you well, Merlin? Has the magic gone to your head? Or have you drunk a botched potion, perhaps?”

“What? No! I’ve just— Been cooped up. For too long. Yes. I need some air. Time in nature, you know, to replenish. So let’s go hunting!”

“You hate hunting.”

“You don’t.”

They stared at each other in silence, debating the matter with their eyes only. Arthur sighed. “Fine. I’ll go tell the knights.”

“Whatever for?”

“I am king. I can’t just go hunting on my own, Merlin.”

“You won’t be on your own, you’ll have me!”

Arthur had the gall the snort. Really? Really? After all this time of watching Merlin do magic right in front of him, after hearing him tell of the things he could do – he could throw fireballs, for goodness sake! – Arthur was still just seeing him as a feeble servant. 

Fine. Fine. Merlin squared his jaw and walked away, not sparing Arthur a glance. It wasn’t like Merlin actually wanted to go on a hunt anyway. Arthur could go fu—

“Merlin, wait! I didn’t mean it like that! Let’s go hunting, yes? Just you and me, like in the old days. But with magic.”

Merlin stopped in his tracks. “With magic.”

 “Yes. Well, except if you’re throwing my arrows off course. Then no magic.”

Merlin turned around and smile sweetly. “Naturally.” He picked up his pace again. “Let’s go ask George to ready some bags.”

Arthur sighed obnoxiously loudly behind him. “I’m not going to get a single kill in, am I?”

Since Arthur couldn’t see, Merlin smirked widely. No Arthur, you would not.

OOOoooOOO

It was chilly, it was drizzling, and the more they stomped through the undergrowth the more Merlin was regretting his brilliant plan to get Arthur alone with him with nowhere to hide.

“So, what did you plan to do exactly on this curious endeavour of yours?”

Merlin stayed silent. He endeavoured to stomp along broodingly until he came up with an actual brilliant plan, thank you very much.

“You’re not planning to kill me, are you? Because I know you are definitely not here to kill a deer or something.”

“No, I’m here to commune with nature in a very warlock-like way,” Merlin grumbled. Couldn’t Arthur just let him think in silence?

“So that’s why you like to pick herbs for Gaius? To commune with nature?”

“What— No, Arthur, I was jesting! I dragged you out here so we could talk.”

The light rustle of footsteps behind him stopped. “We could have talked at the castle,” Arthur said. Merlin sighed and turned around.

“You would have found an excuse to flee the conversation. Like, ‘I need to go train the knights now’, or, ‘I need to urgently read petitions because I am king’, blah blah blah,” Merlin said, including the high-strung kingly tone and over-the-top kingly gestures.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “You do realise that I am king and those things are actually my job?”

“Well right now your job, my liege, is to listen to this humble warlock, citizen of Camelot. And there are no other tasks to distract you from this particular petition.”

“I’m looking for a deer, actually.”

“You won’t find any. Haven’t you noticed? There isn’t a single animal around us. Not within an arrow’s shot, anyway.”

“You are the absolute worst hunting partner.” 

Arthur stomped past him. For the next good while they just walked on in silence. This was Merlin’s fault, really. He should have had a plan. Getting Arthur alone didn’t guarantee a conversation. Especially not if he could escape it by just walking fast. Really, Merlin should have locked him up somewhere. If only it wasn’t so frowned upon to kidnap and sequester your king. 

Arthur suddenly stopped and whirled around. “Fine! What is it that you so urgently need to talk about and has me stroll about the woods forever?”

“I… Uhm…”

Arthur’s eyebrow executed a first, irritated twitch.“Yes?”

Before another twitch could put Arthur into a foul mood – or a fouler mood, in this case – Merlin blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“How did you figure it out? That I’m a warlock?”

Not exactly the most important thing here, Merlin. Really, why didn’t he plan this conversation?

Now both of Arthur’s eyebrows were up. “What do you think? I saw you use magic.”

“Yes, but when? I really don’t see when—”

Arthur stared at him in silence for so long Merlin thought he wouldn’t answer. Especially when Arthur turned away to look at the silent forest. But then he did speak. “When we fought the headless man.”

But— How could that be? “That was months ago!” How could Arthur have hidden for so long that he—

“Yes. It was.”

Oh! Of course! “It took you that long to figure out what you saw?”

“Merlin! Why do you always believe me to be so thickheaded?”

“Because you are?” Merlin smirked.

Arthur crossed him arms. His expression was painfully serious. “I’ve known you had magic for months and you didn’t realise. Remind me who’s thickheaded here?”

Merlin scoffed at that. “I’ve hidden my magic from you for years so no need to get smug.”

“Do you even listen to what you’re saying?”

“Ah.” Yes. That was one of the reasons Arthur was shunning Merlin. Even though it wasn’t fair.“Well. I’d apologise again but I’ve told you why I didn’t tell you, so.”

“Yes, the whole not a sorcerer but a warlock debacle.” Arthur sent him a nasty smile. “How’s the book going?”

“Aaargh, don’t remind me.”

“Is that why we’re here?” Arthur asked, his arms uncrossing to encompass the whole forest in one gesture. “Because you’re fleeing from your book-writing duties?”

“Well…” In a way, Merlin supposed it was true. “A little, yes. It’s awful, Arthur! I don’t think I can do it! It’s just not feasible.”

“Why? I thought you were a great writer.”

Where in Albion did Arthur get that insane idea from? “What are you on about? I’ve never written anything so long!”

“You mean apart from all my speeches and diplomatic replies and drafts for new laws—”

Merlin sighed. “Yes, all right, fine. I can write at length.”

Arthur started walking again. For a minute Merlin thought that was the end of the conversation and he was struggling to find something to say to start it up again. Luckily Arthur did it for him. Though it wasn’t the follow-up Merlin would have chosen.

“It’s a wonder people ever believed you were just a manservant.”

Merlin repressed the first things that wanted to slip out. You never believed I was a manservant, Arthur, given how much you ranted about my poor performance. No one else believed I was just a manservant even when they didn’t know I had magic, Arthur, because other people aren’t blind to my talents. 

He opted for, “Yes, well, people don’t believe that anymore. I’m a sacked manservant now.”

“You’re the Court Warlock.”

Merlin’s steps stuttered and he almost slipped on a mossy root. Court Warlock? Since when? “Oh, so that’s what I am?” That did make an awful lot of sense. He’d received the stink eye from some servants – so that must have been either jealousy or fear of magic – and random people kept sending him nods of little bows – which must have been those who now thought his title required noble etiquette. “Funny, no one ever told me my title. Or what the promotion entailed.”

“Well, with your…” Athur waved a hand until he found his next word. “…shenanigans,”—really not what Merlin would have called his disaster of a life—“I had to come up with some title on the fly. It’s not like it’s the promotion I had intended to give you.”

“Ha, right. If it was up to you I’d have been your manservant forever,” Merlin said, and he couldn’t hide the bitterness in his tone. Where would he be if Arthur hadn’t found out about his magic? Working as his manservant, exactly.

“First off, it is up to me. And second, no, not forever. I’d have hoped you’d accept your promotion.”

“If I’d accept? Why, was it something unpleasant? Like warden of the dungeons? Oh wait, I am part-time warden of the dungeons now, aren’t I?” Arthur grimaced, and that made Merlin feel a little bit better. “So, what was it?”

“What was what?” Arthur didn’t look at him. Hmm.

“The promotion.”

“Shhh, is that a deer?” Arthur pointed at a bush. Fishy. Fishy indeed.

“What? No. I told you there are no animals anywhere near…” Arthur was still intently looking at the bush, his hand resting on his sword. And then he started to creep towards the bush. Wait, was he serious? “Why, did you hear something?” Merlin whisper-shouted.

Merlin followed Artur as he silently stalked to the bush and pulled his sword out. When he got close, he rushed to the back of the plant, Merlin on his heels, and stopped short, straightened, and sheathed his sword. 

“I was wrong, there was nothing after all.”

Merlin just stared at him open-mouthed. What in Albion was happening here? How could Arthur be so calm after he’d just looked so seriously suspicious? He’d drawn his sword instead of an arrow, and now he was just brushing it off like it was nothing?

“What did you hear?” Merlin scanned the area with his senses as much as he was able – which to be honest wasn’t very accurate, he was truly not very sensitive to non-magical sources – but there was nothing. All life-forms he could feel were all held back by his magical barrier.

“Oh, I thought I heard some rustling. Guess it was just wishful thinking.”

Arthur smiled in that way he always used when he tried to hide something – the smile everyone fell for but Merlin had got used to years ago. In other words… Arthur hadn’t heard anything. He had made up a story to distract from that fishy promotion story. 

Merlin smiled back. “My fault for not letting you actually hunt, I guess.”

He was so going to needle Arthur until he knew what the mystery promotion was.

Chapter Text

Chapter 6

“Since we’re not hunting and all, maybe we could sit down somewhere,” Arthur said. 

Arthur. Wanting to sit down instead of traipsing through the forest. What was wrong with him? “I hope there’s food in those bags, I’m famished,”Arthur added. Aha, that would explain it.

They found a clearing with a felled tree that could serve as a bench – Merlin stripped off some of the rotting bark with a wave of magic so they could sit on something relatively dry. Pieces of the bark and leafless branches ended up on a pile that Merlin set on fire with a fireball.

The fireball was entirely unnecessary, of course. A simple magical spark would have sufficed, even with the sodden wood. But he still had to show Arthur he hadn’t been lying about being able to make fireballs. That was of course a very legitimate reason to make one. Besides, most of the conversation-they-weren’t-really-having was about magic; he might as well be extra obvious about using it. As a desensitisation method. Though apparently Arthur had been on a desensitisation regime for months, and it hadn’t worked so far.

Merlin rummaged through the bag, glad to find that George had given them rations of bread, cured meat, apples and a water skin. Dare he say it, there were enough rations for two. Had George stopped hating him so much now that Merlin apparently had a title that meant he would never be Arthur’s manservant again?

Arthur had put down his bow, quiver and sword, and sat down on the tree-bench next to Merlin. He stole the apple Merlin was about to bite into right out of his hands. Merlin sighed and picked up the other one – what was the point in protesting? Arthur was always going to be snotty and boorish in the oddest of moments. In a way, Arthur was the one who had desensitised Merlin to royal shenanigans.

“So,” Arthur said after he’d swallowed his first bite. “What’s the conversation we’re supposed to be having and that we’re sitting on a rotting tree for instead of being comfortable in front of the fire in my rooms?”

“We have a fire here.”

“Well spotted. Not the main point of my question, though.”

Merlin gazed at Arthur and for a moment he was struck speechless, though he didn’t know if it was his avoidance of the subject or the sight before him. 

Arthur was sitting so close. He wondered how he hadn’t noticed before. Arthur’s hair was sodden, flattened down and stuck to his forehead, the blond darkened from the constant drizzle. The water gave his skin a sheen, and his eyelashes even had droplets stuck to them like tiny constellations. His eyes, bluer than anything else around them – than anything Merlin had ever seen, in truth – reflected the swaying leaves boarding the clearing. And in the dark pupil, Merlin’s dumb-struck face itself. 

That is what brought him back to the conversation at hand. That and the eyebrow that lifted in a very Gaius-like manner. “Magic.”

“Magic.” Arthur sighed. “Of course. What else. Fine, so what about magic do you need to drag me out in the rain for?” Arthur looked around. “Are you really going to commune with nature after all?”

“No, it’s—” Merlin braced himself. This was the crux of the matter. “You hate my magic.” 

The words ‘you hate me’ were on the tip of Merlin’s tongue, but such a statement would have been ridiculous. Arthur didn’t hate him. He just… didn’t see him as his friend anymore, not truly. Merlin grasped his knee hard, so he wouldn’t bring a hand up to where it really hurt; his heart.

Arthur looked into the fire. “Hate is a strong word.” It was said softly, soothingly, and some heat cautiously returned to Merlin’s chest.

“My magic makes you uncomfortable,” Merlin amended.

Arthur chuckled. “What did you expect? You know how I grew up – magic has always been the greatest threat to Camelot. And to my life, really.”

“Funny you should say that. Magic has also been the greatest threat to my life.”

Arthur cleared his throat. “Yes, well, anyway. You understand why being aware of you possessing forces that have often been used against me—” Merlin opened his mouth to protest and Arthur stopped him with a raised hand. “I know you would not use it against me, Merlin. Despite many instances to the contrary, I know you are not completely daft.” Merlin stuck his tongue out, and Arthur responded in kind. And then he said, “Besides, am I not allowed to be uncomfortable knowing you not only have magic, but are the elusive, all-powerful Emrys?”

Suffice it to say Merlin’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets. He also promptly stood up, tripped on a dead branch and fell backwards in the dead leaves with a breathless yelp. At least Arthur had the decency not to laugh. Instead he stood up as well and held out a hand to pull Merlin up.

“How?” Merlin managed to croak once he was upright again.

“Gaius.”

“Gaius,” Merlin repeated, voice audibly full of disbelief.

“When I found out about your magic, I first didn’t know what to do, how to put the world back upright, because nothing made sense. You couldn’t have magic. That’s what I thought.” Arthur was still holding onto Merlin’s hand, squeezing it, probably not realising he was doing so. Arthur’s eyes cast about the clearing. “Not you, because that meant you had lied to me for years. It meant you weren’t really my friend. I needed to talk to someone, but who? And then I thought, surely Gaius knows. You live with him, Gaius is an expert on magic, so he had to know. I confronted him one morning when I knew you were away to gather herbs. And it turned out Gaius knew all along and lied to me for years too.”

Arthur’s pain permeated his every word. He stared off into space, unseeing, as if looking at Merlin right now – the source of this pain – would have been too much.

There was a hole in Merlin’s chest, darkness clawing at his ribs. It was a familiar sensation – every time he’d lied to Arthur about his magic it was there, when Arthur kept his distance after confronting him about said magic it was there, and now it was so strong his hand was rubbing his sternum. He couldn’t look at Arthur anymore, and he had to blink with purpose to keep the wetness at bay.

Arthur was waiting for a response. A comment. Anything. But what could Merlin say that he hadn’t said before? Besides, a second hole had clawed itself open in his heart, this one formed by a new source of betrayal, and he latched onto that instead.

“So Gaius knew for months too that you were aware of my magic?”

“Yes.” 

The answer was curt, dismissive, and it ignited a flame of anger in the hole of darkness occupying the space meant for Merlin’s heart.

“Why did you wait so long to tell me you knew?”

“I— Well, I was too angry at first, and—”

“Did you consider burning me at the stake? Me being a sorcerer and all?”

“Of course not! Merlin, I—”

“Why would you burn other people for sorcery then?”

“It’s the law.”

“You’re the king! You make the law!”

Merlin didn’t know when they’d gripped each other’s shirts and arms, as if they were wrestling with more than words.

“Look, Merlin, you know I’ve been told all my life that magic is evil and sorcerers learn it to use it for evil purposes.” 

Arthur said it in a calm tone, and it did anything but calm Merlin down.

“They don’t! Magic is a tool, just like a knife or a sword! It’s not just for stabbing and slashing, it’s for carving, for cooking, for protecting too. A skill is not evil, it’s what you do with it that is!” 

Merlin paused his rant to catch his breath, only now realised he’d been yelling. Arthur didn’t look fazed at all; it was like he was patiently waiting for Merlin to tire. Well, he would have to wait a while longer because Merlin was not done.

“There aren’t only… sorcerers out there. There are, you know, warlocks and mages and witches and enchanters and so many more that I can’t fathom how to write that idiotic book about it—”

“Merlin.”

“No, you listen to me for once! There is no evil magic, just some people using it for bad things like bandits or blood-thirsty lords would, and magical creatures that just try to survive in this world like any deer or wolf would, and outlawing half of what this world is made of is utterly wrong and ridiculous—”

“Merlin.”

“So you need to let the good people out there use magic for good things and put back the balance of nature. The druids would tell you— and the… wizards and the alchemists and the shamans too, by the way—”

“Merlin!” Arthur said fiercely, pressing a hand over Merlin’s mouth, which was utterly rude. Merlin intended to step out of his reach and speak some more, though he wasn’t sure of what since he was running out of names for magical folk at this point, but the look in Arthur’s eyes stopped him.

Arthur took his hand away and Merlin’s lips tingled from the sudden lack of heat. “You really take your king for a fool, don’t you?”

That managed to shut Merlin up better than any hand over his mouth could. What in Albion was that supposed to mean? Here he was trying to earnestly explain the nature of magic now that he truly could, and what, Arthur was thinking he was mocking him? Or worse, lying to him?

“Wizards? Alchemists? Shamans? How do you come up with these things?”

“What— I— Those exist!” Merlin was pretty sure some people somewhere called themselves that, at least.

“I know it’s utter nonsense, Merlin. I’ve known from the start, you dolt.”

Merlin blinked fiercely, but no explanation was forthcoming. “What do you mean?”

“I know that sorcerer or warlock or mage and all the rest are just made up categories that don’t mean anything. I know magic users aren’t all bad. I mean, I know you, don’t I?”

For the longest time not a single breath left Merlin’s mouth, let alone his voice. “You are such a prat,” he finally managed, breathless. Arthur stated to laugh. “You utter prat! Making a fool of me all this time! And getting me to write a ridiculous book about it too!”

Arthur doubled over with laughter and Merlin took the opportunity to whack him over the head.

“Ow! You’re not supposed to hit your king!”

“You are such a prat.”

“You said that already,” Arthur said, his smile full of mirth.

“Prat!” Merlin said, much too fondly.

“I love you too,” Arthur responded in the same tone.

A beat of silence. Two. Arthur’s smile died a slow death while his ears took on a distinctively red colour. Suddenly his eyes were on every single tree, bush and tuft of grass, avoiding Merlin entirely. 

Arthur cleared his throat.

Turned around.

“Now that we cleared that up, let’s go back to the castle. I’m the king, I’ve got work to do,” he said without looking back at Merlin. 

He swiftly retrieved his gear, took two steps in the direction of home and stopped. “Hurry up, Merlin, we don’t have all day!” he barked in the most prattish way possible.

All the while Merlin hadn’t moved a muscle because his mind was stuck on a single thought. 

Oh. Oh! Oh? Yes, oh. Aha. Mmh. Indeed. That made sense. 

But also, now that he thought about it, oh. So that was what the hole in his chest was about. The hole that now held a flame, a star, a sun, and wouldn’t his chest burst open at this rate from the heat it contained?

So Merlin did the only sensible thing he could think of. He took a deep breath, pretended the whole almost-romantic moment didn’t happen and quickly doused the fire and grabbed the bags. Arthur was right. That was a whole new conversation. One that was not meant for forests.

Chapter Text

Chapter 7

Of course the second they arrived in the castle’s courtyard, Arthur was through the door before Merlin even had the time to properly dismount. He should have expected it, really. If Arthur had waited months to even broach the subject of magic, how long would it take with— That. Feelings. Not Arthur’s best subject.

Besides, Merlin could have majorly misinterpreted what had happened in the clearing. He’d had the whole walk back to their horses and then the ride home to go over Arthur’s words and expressions. And while in the moment he’d been so sure he knew Arthur’s heart, the more he thought about it, the less likely it seemed. 

Arthur, enamoured with Merlin? How ridiculous would that be? Merlin never would be so lucky. He was a walking disaster. Things never went well for him. Ergo, while he couldn’t let this lie, he also should approach with caution. He didn’t need to make a fool of himself by making unrealistic assumptions.

So he decided to give Arthur a couple of hours of peace. Or rather, Merlin stalked the king the whole time – still completely, magiclessly visible – and whenever an occasion to make himself known arose, he took the coward’s way out. Until Gaius noticed him lurking around the throne room and confronted him with a, “What are you doing, my boy?”

“Gaius!” Well, now that he had the opportunity to ask Gaius some questions, he should take it, shouldn’t he? Arthur could definitely wait. Until tomorrow, even.

The eyebrow rose. “If you are looking for Arthur—”

“Oh, no, no, I’m not!” Merlin added some hand waving to really drive the point home.

“Truly?”

It didn’t work. Gaius couldn’t sound or look more sceptical. Time for a distraction.

“Say, Gaius, I was wondering if you could help me figure something out. You see, I’ve been wondering how Arthur found out about my magic, since I definitely didn’t do any magic that Arthur could have seen in the days prior to, you know, that day. Would you happen to have any idea?”

“Oh, how would I know, my boy? Perhaps you should ask Arthur.”

“Mmh. I did that already.” 

Merlin had to give it to him, Gaius really had a way to look impassive and innocent in any situation.

“Oh, and I was wondering something else, Gaius. Apparently Arthur knows I’m Emrys! For the life of me I can’t imagine who would have been able to tell him that! Do you know if he saw any Druids recently?”

“Perhaps he did. You will have to ask him. I don’t know who the king meets. I’m just a physician, my boy.”

“Is that really the story you are going to go with?”

Two eyebrows were up now. “Merlin, I really don’t know what you—”

“I mean, if you are going to lie, why not make it a little bit more fanciful? Why not say he saw it in a dream, or Kilgharrah came to tell him or something?” Gaius’ face stayed frozen in its innocent impassiveness a little bit too strongly. Oh. Oh. “Did Arthur make you promise not to tell? He told me about everything already. Knowing for months I had magic and talking with you about it.”

Gaius visibly deflated, and his eyebrows lowered with relief. “Thank the gods! I am not sure I could have watched both of you beat around the bush for much longer. Especially with that farce of a book…”

Merlin snorted. “Tell me about it. I will so make him pay for that.”

“It seems you two have talked, then. Has Arthur finally offered you that promotion?”

“Yes, apparently I’m Court Warlock now.”

The eyebrows jerked up and down. “That is not the promotion I was thinking of.”

“Wait. Do you know what the mystery promotion is that Arthur doesn’t want to tell me about?”

Given the twinkle that just appeared in Gaius’ eyes, yes he did, and no he wouldn’t tell Merlin, ever.

“That is something Arthur should tell you himself. Good luck, my boy!” Gaius said then, and left with a wave and an energetic old man’s shuffle.

Merlin stared after him. Right. Well, time to actually go find Arthur, then.

OOOoooOOO

Merlin worried his neckerchief as he stood in front of the door to Arthur’s rooms. Arthur was inside, his magic had informed him five minutes ago. He just hadn’t plucked up the courage to knock.

Two guards on patrol nodded at Merlin as they passed. If anyone else was dithering in front of the king’s rooms they might have asked what they were up to, but as the king’s manservant – correction, ex-manservant, Court Warlock – Merlin was almost considered the second resident of this area of the castle.

Before he could start doubting himself again, Merlin knocked. “Just a moment,” was the muffled answer from the other side, followed by booted footsteps. Merlin’s heart pounded in his ears. The key turned. More footsteps, fading. The door didn’t open.

It took Merlin a good few seconds to realise Arthur had just locked the door on him – that utter boor! Especially after pretending like he was coming to open the door, instead of barking his usual ‘go away’. Somehow this felt even more rude. And Arthur wouldn’t even know who was on the other side of the door – this was ridiculous!

Ergo, Merlin ignored Arthur’s obvious ‘go away’ signals and magicked the door open. He strode in, the door closed with a magical bang behind him, and he waited, arms crossed.

Arthur didn’t even look up from the parchment he was reading. “It’s not because you can do that that you should intrude upon your king as you please. I locked that door for a reason, didn’t I?”

“And would that reason be to avoid me? Sire.”

Arthur looked up from his parchment. He still didn’t look anywhere near Merlin, though. The dying flames in the hearth seemed to be the focus of his attention now. “Not at all. I’m not avoiding you.”

“I see.”

“I’m avoiding a conversation with you. So if you’re just here to sit around silently, then by all means, stay.” Arthur vaguely gestured at one side of his room – the one that didn’t even contain anything to sit on. “Otherwise…” His shooing motion was at least vaguely pointed at the door. Or at Merlin in front of said door. 

“When in the history of ever has that worked?”

Arthur finally looked his way, a smirk touching his lips. “There’s a first time for everything. For instance, I’m sure that one day you’ll manage to actually shut up.”

“Prat,” Merlin threw his way as he always did during their bickering. 

Athur looked like he was about to answer… Until his mouth closed audibly and he looked away, as far as his neck would go, to focus his gaze on the wall. It was only when his ears turned very red that Merlin remembered what happened the last time he’d said that word.

‘I love you too’ echoed in Merlin’s mind, in just the way Arthur said it in the forest, and the rooms felt much too hot all of a sudden.

Argh, this was preposterous! Why did they need to go from one awkward situation to another? First magic, then the mystery promotion, and now l—. Lo—. Well, you know, heartfelt affection. 

How about they settled the less awkward and less risky issue first?

“What’s the promotion you’d intended to offer me?”

“Court Warlock,” Arthur told the wall.

“Not that one. The other one. The one you mentioned in the forest, and the one Gaius mentioned ten minutes ago.”

That got Arthur’s attention, all right! His chair scraped the floor as he hastily stood up. “What did Gaius tell you?”

Interesting overreaction. This must really be something quite embarrassing, otherwise Arthur wouldn’t be repressing his panic so badly, master of impassibility that he was. 

“Hmm, what was it again? He blathered on and on so much, I can’t quite remember…”

“Merlin!”

“I think I won’t tell you what he said.”

They stared at each other, and Merlin did his best to seem not at all desperate to know what secret promotion Arthur – and Gaius and who knew who else – was hiding from him was. Arthur’s sky-blues were assessing his smallest facial movements, no doubt about it. It took a good moment, but then Arthur’s little frown of concentration cleared. That wasn’t a good sign.

“Gaius didn’t tell you anything.”

“Damn it!” Arthur knew him too well. “No, he didn’t, because he said you should be the one to tell me.” Merlin stepped up close so that Arthur couldn’t so easily escape this conversation like he did so many others. “Arthur, what is it that you have to tell me?”

Now Merlin had a front-row view of the reddening of Arthurs cheeks as well as his ears. “I told you in the forest.”

“No, you didn’t! That’s why we’re talking about it now!”

“I told you in the forest,” Arthur repeated with more force, and Merlin frowned.

He went over the conversation in his mind, but he was certain Arthur never mentioned anything that sounded like a promotion, apart from Court Warlock. 

Merlin ogled his king, hoping for more clues, but Arthur stayed silent. Arthur also wasn’t looking him in the eye once again, choosing to look down this time to evade Merlin’s gaze. Seriously, how embarrassing must that promotion have been if Arthur of all people got all shy about it—

Wait, was it Merlin or was Arthur looking at his lips?

There were two thing Arthur had said in the forest that he got all flustered about. The promotion, and his… slip of the tongue. (No, not tongue, don’t think about tongues right now, Merlin. Get a grip!)

What if those two instances were linked? Promotion plus heartfelt affection equals…

Merlin gasped and took an involuntary step back. Arthur’s face instantly shuttered, and that was a bad sign, a sign of regression in their relation once again, so Merlin closed the space between them once more and gripped Arthur’s shirt before he could think of fleeing.

“Tell me what the promotion is,” Merlin said.

“No,” Arthur said, that stubborn frown on his lips.

“I didn’t agree to being Court Warlock, and really, I’m not sure I like it that much. I really, really want to hear what the other… proposal is.”

Arthur finally looked him in the eye, searching for something. Merlin simply gave him an eyebrow à la Gaius. 

“Merlin. I—”

Arthur stopped short, face as crimson as the Pendragon banner hanging on the back wall. 

“I—” he tried again.

Merlin rolled his eyes. And this was supposed to be the brave and mighty King of Camelot?

“I would like to… propose… uhm…”

“Yes, my king?” Merlin prompted when the silence stretched.

“The promotion of Prince Consort?”

Merlin kept his face tightly in check despite his urge to grin like a loon – he’d guessed it correctly! “Mmmh. I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it.” 

Arthur’s face froze in an attempt not to show his disappointment, but he failed quite spectacularly. Merlin could feel Arthur’s urge to step away, so he quickly added, “I mean, as a manservant you were already quite the handful – just imagining you as a husband…”

The sharp inhale meant Arthur had caught on. “Merliiiin!” he whined.

Merlin shut him up with the most effective method known to man. Not magic, not a hand, but his lips firmly pressed against Arthur’s. 

When Merlin pulled away Arthur’s eyes were tracing his face, stuck between disbelief and wonder. Merlin repressed his urge to roll his eyes or start laughing uncontrollably. Who would have guessed? Arthur finding out about his magic was actually the best thing to ever happen to him. 

Merlin put his thickheaded king out of his misery.

“That means yes, Arthur. I love you too and I accept your proposal.”

Arthur’s face split in two. He looked ready to spout some ridiculous romantic drivel, as nobles were wont to do, so Merlin did the only sane thing he could think of. He captured Arthur’s lips again and smiled into the kiss.

May the golden age of Albion begin!