Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Chapter 1

Since Arthur came back from the battle of Camlann, nothing was the same. The king felt like the shadow of himself, someone he tried to run away from for so long. The tricks he once used to bury this part of himself did not work anymore. Yet, in the eyes of those close to him, everything seemed normal. Except for Merlin and Gwen. 

The warlock saved his king. It had been a matter of seconds, but the help of Kilgharrah altered the destiny that was meant to unfold. Emrys had once again accomplished what everyone thought impossible. A prophecy had been changed. The druids spoke of it, yet none of them understood how or why it happened. They felt as though something terrible could strike at any moment, like the balance of the universe itself was going to come for them.

Two weeks passed, and their confusion deepened. The only hope they had of easing their growing fear and understanding what had never occurred before lay in the Crystal Cave. A young but promising druid named Helmar volunteered to undertake the journey to the cave. He spent two days and one night trying to decipher what was revealed to him. And finally, all the pieces fell into place, like the missing note in an unfinished song. He had to find Emrys to deliver what he had learned, or die trying. Not only for his people, the fate of Albion or magic, but for Emrys himself. 

**********

 When they returned from Lake Avalon, Arthur did not speak. He uttered a few words moments before reaching Camelot. Merlin’s heart had raced for most of the journey. 

“You may remain in Camelot. You are relieved from your position as my manservant. Do not fear for your life, and… I thank you for saving mine.”

The king faced the city, not wanting to really acknowledge Merlin’s presence, as if dismissing any other servant. 

“Arthur I-”

“Do not speak. I cannot fathom the idea of exchanging words with you right now.”

The coldness in his voice made Merlin shut his mouth. Which normally he wouldn’t do, but guilt and fear left no room for anything else.

The arrival of the King was applauded by the citizens, greeted by the knights with forearm clasps, and sealed with a kiss from his relieved queen. Arthur remained vague when asked how he survived the battle. The story he told was brief, stripped of any hint of magic. He attributed his survival to luck and the talent of the court physician. His natural charisma allowed him to end questions easily. Only alone in his room, looking in the mirror, would Arthur see a glimpse of the changed one he became when he rose from the dead and opened a door that should have remained shut. The events of the past week made his mind restless.* The feeling of life leaving him, the words of Merlin… he could still hear the damage* they had done. 

*****

Three weeks had passed since Arthur learned of Merlin’s magic, and he still had not spoken to him. They crossed paths once, and Arthur did not even look at him. Merlin understood, he was indeed grateful to be alive and allowed to remain in Camelot. Still, he could not read even the faintest emotion in Arthur’s blue eyes. He could no longer feel him with a single glance the way they once had. 

He tried speaking with Gwen, but she was just as lost. Arthur refused to discuss what had happened. She only knew that Merlin possessed magic, and that Gaius had been involved. She thanked Merlin sincerely and made sure he understood how much his actions meant to her. She reassured him often that she understood why he had kept his secret and that he remained dear to her. Gwen wanted him to open up, to feel accepted. Merlin appreciated her kindness, yet it still felt hollow, and even more heartbreaking. 

Gwen did try to understand the coldness of her husband, but he responded with even more frost when his past servant’s name was spoken.

“I am grateful to be alive, I’m sure Merlin is too. I don’t see the need to dwell on it’’. 

She eventually accepted that the subject was closed, at least for now. Seeing nothing change, and Gwen’s helpless shrug the last time they saw each other, Merlin decided to let him have his space for now. He returned to his duty as Gaius’s apprentice. 

*********

That day, Merlin went to visit Gwaine to continue his treatments. The knight had narrowly survived, thanks to Gaius. Percival had carried him in, bearing fear at the idea of grief and loss. He begged him to do everything he could, whatever it cost, feeling the last weak breath of life leaving the most alive man he ever knew. With one look, Percival gave Gaius permission to do something that could put them at risk. And with every life they lost in the last days, the pain they felt, the hope that was about to leave, they made the decision to use magic to fix Gwaine’s injuries. 

Gwaine was still recovering after 3 weeks, but he could walk, practice a bit of sword fighting with moderation. And of course, he could laugh and flirt like he always had, drink in the tavern and tease his friends. He reclaimed life, and that meant everything to his friends. So, when Merlin entered his quarters, all he could do was smile and pull the knight into a tight hug. 

“Merlin! If I’d known I could get so many hugs from you in such a short amount of time, I would have provoked a crazy witch way earlier!”

Merlin laughed as he pulled away.

“I guess the battle showed me how much some people meant to me.”

Gwaine nodded.

“Yeah, I see what you mean. It changed a lot for most of us.”

Merlin bit his lips, giving him a quick smile that faltered enough for Gwaine to notice. 

“So, what is going on with Arthur? You were inseparable and now it feels like you are never in the same room.’’

Merlin busied himself with the tincture he got out of his bag, placing it carefully on the table. He wanted to tell Gwaine, to tell someone other than Gaius or Gwen. But, he didn’t know exactly what Arthur wanted to do with him. He didn’t want to risk Gwaine’s life. Uncertainty and fear kept him cautious.

“Well, Arthur was never thrilled with my service” he said lightly. “It’s no surprise he found someone more competent.” He tried to laugh but it was poorly convincing.

Gwaine studied him, unconvinced. 

 “I thought he discovered that you are a sorcerer and didn’t know what to do with it”. He looked back up to Merlin, eyes mischievous. 

Merlin kept a straight face, but his heart was hammering so hard he could hear it in his ears. He felt his cheeks burn up, looked away and said: “Maybe you don’t need a tincture for your injuries after all, I got something else for hallucinations.” He tried to keep his teasing smile and an even voice.

Gwaine didn’t smile.

“I’ve known for a while that you are a sorcerer, Merlin. I waited for you to be ready to tell me, because I knew you would want to tell Arthur before anyone else. But now that Arthur has escaped what seemed like certain death, don’t think I’m a fool. I have an idea of what happened.” He took a breath, almost begging. “Please Merlin, you can talk to me.”

Merlin swallowed, and with difficulty asked “How long?” 

“I had clues here and there. You were very careful that Arthur didn’t find out. But I’m not Arthur. When you looked to be sure he didn’t see, you didn’t assure that I did not. I would say it’s been about a year that I had doubts. But seeing Arthur come back strong as a horse from the battle, and refusing to see you, now I know.” 

Merlin took a moment to choose his words, to walk on egg shells like he used to, but he was so tired of lies. To live the double life was exhausting. So, after a long exhale, he told everything that happened during and after the battle. He talked about his struggles to tell the truth and the prophecy. At the end, his voice finally broke.

“I would serve him beyond death itself. I love him even if he owns such power over my life. He is the ruler of my existence, and I trust that the choices that he makes are the ones we must follow. Even if it hurts.” The last words were like a whisper. 

Gwaine looked at him, eyes full of admiration, feeling the weight on Merlin’s shoulders and the hurt of Arthur’s absence. After a long silence, he stood up from the bed and gently cradled Merlin’s face. 

“You talk like Arthur could do no wrong in your eyes.”*

“He is the greatest king to ever live. It is my path to have faith.”

Gwaine admired that unconditional loyalty. 

“Thank you for taking care of us Merlin.” He said softly. 

With tears in his eyes, Merlin made a weak smile. Gwaine took a step back ;

“You know, I don’t think the princess could ever hate you. I don’t know him well enough to understand his silence, but I’m sure he is conflicted, and that he could never harm you.”

Merlin wiped his face and nodded.

“I hope you are right. Thank you Gwaine.”

“And if you ever doubted, I still see you as Merlin, a good and joyful lad. Don’t lose that.”

And without adding any more words, Merlin instructed Gwaine how to use the tincture and quietly departed.   

Chapter Text

Chapter 2

Arthur was at a loss. He felt a cold, dark pit of anger and didn’t fully understand why. Even sweet and wise Gwen could not ease it. If anything, it felt like she made it worse. Hell, he could barely sleep or even dine with her anymore. He made excuses, claiming he had too many duties occupying his mind after the battle. Or that coming back from death made him feel different. The latter wasn’t totally false. But in truth, Arthur Pendragon didn’t know what to do with how he felt since the battle. And when that happened, he usually asked his manservant for advice. But his manservant wasn’t Merlin anymore, it was George. And Merlin was the very reason for his torment.

He was grateful for everything Merlin had done, for the life he had saved, for the sacrifices he had made. But gratefulness did not erase betrayal and fear. The events that had unfolded felt like a punch in the face. And he couldn’t punch back. He didn’t know Merlin anymore. Did he even know himself anymore? What was Merlin’s place in his life now ? Would he remain loyal or would he leave his side? Did he hate Arthur for everything his father had done? And how could Arthur protect Merlin in a kingdom where magic was condemned? If not, could he trust him?

The sense of betrayal felt like opening a box he had buried long ago. When he learned Merlin was a sorcerer, he felt even angrier than when Gwen had kissed Lancelot. But his dying body at the time could not do anything except think past his emotions to try to lessen the suffering. And when he had been on the verge of death, the words thank you had not been what crossed his mind first. He had wanted to say that he loved Merlin. That realization had shaken the shit out of him, almost as much as Merlin’s revelation. The fact that all he wanted to do before crossing to the other side, was to be held by Merlin, not Gwen, but Merlin, sent shockwaves through his bones every time he thought of it. He saw the abyss of the afterlife, heard his mother’s voice, but felt terribly alone in a place without his best friend. When life rushed back to him like dark lightning, it felt as though something had been taken from him. 

Now, he couldn’t look Gwen in the eye, and he couldn’t speak to Merlin. A part of his life felt like a lie he had built to blind himself from a truth too difficult to face.  How could he live with this new perspective and the knowledge of Merlin and of magic? He needed to be a good man, honest with himself and with the people he loved. At the same time, a small opening of darkness that had wounded him when he came back to life was crawling inside him. So Arthur numbed himself, clinging to the one thing he could still control: his actions as king.

******

Tonight was the first feast after the battle, gathering everyone from the castle and nobles from across the kingdom: knights, servants, scholars, and even Merlin. Arthur wore a false smile, trying to appear proud and joyful, because that was what his people needed. But behind the festivities and his charismatic mask, his thoughts were elsewhere. He watched Merlin from afar; laughing and talking with the knights. He wished he could still do that, like before, but all he could feel was the ache of his divided heart. 

A flicker of jealousy passed through him when Gwaine slung an arm around Merlin’s shoulders and Percival ruffled his hair, just as Arthur used to. The wine in his cup quickly demanded a refill, which George provided without him having to ask. That was new and dull at the same time. Gwen gently shook Arthur’s arm where it rested on the table.

“Arthur, what is going on? You’ve been staring at Merlin all night.” 

The king took a deep breath, not shifting his gaze. 

“I need some air. ” He said dryly.

He made his way out of the festivities, and went to the nearest balcony, fingers pressing into his temples, hoping to be alone long enough to collect his thoughts. Soon enough, however, the queen placed a hand on his shoulder. 

“I need time alone Guinevere.”

She hesitated, withdrew her hand, but remained beside him, gazing up at the sky.

“It’s been almost a month, Arthur. I’ve given you space. But I can’t pretend not to understand what I’m seeing anymore.”

“And what do you think you see?” He replied, irritation slipping into his voice. He hated himself for letting his emotions get the best of him in front of a woman he loved and respected so deeply. 

Gwen inhaled slowly, voicing an idea that had been forming in her mind over the past weeks.

“I love you, and you love me. I think we respect each other and have helped each other grow in beautiful ways. But I also see how you look at Merlin, more clearly than ever. I see how you always search for him in a room and brood when he’s not there, how your eyes light up when you catch sight of him, and how that light is immediately followed by something darker, something painful. I know you, Arthur. Since what happened with Lancelot, you’ve felt distant, but it’s more than that.”

“Gwen what are you trying to say?”

“I understand how deeply duty guides you, and why your…”she hesitated, voice breaking, but she needed to be direct and sure; ‘’feelings for Merlin must be so hard to accept.”

Arthur’s eyes took a dark shade, lips pressing into a thin line.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You are my wife. I love you. We loved each other for so long. We made each other possible, even when it seemed impossible.”

“I know you love me” Gwen said softly, ‘’but you are not in love with me. Not the way I see that you are with Merlin. I cannot continue to turn my head away. It’s like sharing your heart is starting to tear you apart. *I can’t keep turning away from what I see. I believe we chose each other for good and honest reasons, but part of me always wondered if we projected something we thought we could never have onto something more attainable. That doesn’t erase our love. But I do know what I’m talking about, Arthur.”

“Is this about Lancelot?” he said defensively. 

“It’s about us, and what we gave each other all these years.”

Tears welled in Arthur’s eyes, his fist clenching as he tried not to break down.

“I’m doing what I can, Gwen, please don’t make this harder.”*

“I know you are, but lying to ourselves is not the way to feel better.”

As he finally met Gwen’s brown irises, one tear slipped from the corner of his right eye. He at least owed her the truth, even if he himself wasn’t ready to admit it. 

“I never wanted this to happen to you. If only I had understood myself sooner, I would have acted more honorably toward you.”

“Arthur, what we had was still beautiful, and I am proud to be the queen of a man as fair as you. Don’t blame yourself for not understanding such complicated feelings before you were ready. I don’t blame you, and I don’t blame myself. Our love was genuine with the knowledge we had then, and I hope we can continue this relationship, whatever form it takes.”

‘’I feel like I'm on the run, and I keep leaving you all alone,* abandoning you.”

She placed her hand on his cheek, smiling through the wave of emotions that surrounded them. 

“Well, stop running and let’s try to get through this together, alright?”

Her words touched him deeply, yet the storm inside him became unbearable. He placed a composed mask over his face.

‘’We should return to the feast.”

He left the balcony abruptly, leaving Gwen behind, her expression heavy with quiet sorrow. 

Arthur strode through the hallway toward the festivities, a hollow emptiness growing as his eyes remained fixed on the floor. When he suddenly collided with someone, instinct took over and his hand shot out, gripping the front of the culprit’s tunic. He froze for a fraction of a second, realizing it was no one else but Merlin. 

For reasons he couldn’t immediately understand, he didn’t release him. Instead, he proceeded and pinned him lightly against the stone wall. Merlin let out a small, startled sound, and instead of his usual babble, he whispered weakly;

“Arthur…I’m sorry.”

They stood so close that Arthur could smell ale and mint on the boy’s breath. Once again, the missing notes in the song of his soul stirred back to life. He took a moment to look at Merlin's lips and the entreating expression of his blue eyes.  His gaze drifted to Merlin’s lips, then to the pleading blue of his eyes, and down to the pale skin of his exposed neck, dotted with beauty marks meant to be kissed. Arthur realized it was the first time he had seen so much of Merlin’s neck and murmured: 

“You are not wearing your neckerchief.”

“I…I guess not, I kind of lost it.” 

Arthur almost laughed, the way he always did when Merlin was careless. Instead, he realized his grip and let go. 

“Well, next time watch where you’re going Merlin.”

Merlin’s voice grew steadier.

“That’s not what I was apologizing for.”/span>

“I know.” 

Arthur turned away, ready to leave, but Merlin’s voice stopped him.

“Please, Arthur. Tell me what I can do to make this right, to earn your trust again. Everything I did was for you. Only you. I thought I was doing what was best. Now that you know about my magic, guide me. Let me do better for you and for Camelot. But please, don’t leave me in the dark. Even if it means killing me. I can’t bear the idea of being nothing but a shadow now that you finally know who I am, because then I would already be dead.” 

The words struck like a blow to both their hearts. Arthur looked away, unable to face those endless deep ocean eyes.

“I don’t know how to do that. I feel like I don’t know you at all, and yet a part of me still recognizes you. I need time. I’m standing at a crossroads I never thought existed.”

Merlin stepped forward, but Gwen’s voice interrupted them.

“Are you two alright?”

“Yes.” Arthur answered. 

“Never better.” Merlin added. 

They exchanged one final glance before going their separate ways. Gwen followed Arthur, duty pulling her forward, while her friendship with Merlin made her hesitate for a lingering moment.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3

Once in his room, Merlin collapsed onto his bed, a tangle of ache and helplessness gnawing at his stomach. He touched his neck, remembering the warmth of Arthur’s hand against his skin. Even if it had been rough, it had at least been real. 

He could endure the golden storm, even if a part of him would sometimes yearned for a gentler wind, something warm enough to embrace him. He knew he could only keep accepting the prophecy of the great king. 

At least Gwen was there for the softer sides of Arthur’s existence. Even if the thought still pinched, it was an old ache now, easier to ignore with time. So the warlock went to bed, closing his eyes, hoping to sleep it off and hoping that Arthur truly meant it when he said he needed to think. Instead, Merlin was the one thinking too much, about that damned skin so close to his neck. Those rough, calloused hands that could do so much… more. 

Stop it, he scolded himself as his body betrayed him. More. He couldn’t stop his hands from drifting down his chest, then to his belly, making him shiver inside. He slipped his erection out of his briefs to ease the ache. With a mix of shame, guilt and desire, he spat on his fingers and brought them to where his body throbbed with a need to be filled. He failed to keep the memory of his encounter with Arthur from his mind.

Meanwhile, in the king’s bedchamber, Arthur couldn’t sleep either. He sat on his bed, attempting to read reports on the realm’s finances, hoping boredom would lull him to sleep. His eyes kept drifting back to his hands, the ones that had touched Merlin’s pale, soft skin. A slow breath escaped through his nose as he forced himself to refocus on the text.  

Let me do better for you.

Merlin’s words echoed again in his mind. His cock jolted at the memory of those words. He thought of what exactly the warlock could do for him to make it better. Maybe putting that bratty mouth around his- 

He clenched his jaw. 

Fuck, you are married, read the damned reports.

Too late. He pushed the papers aside and closed his eyes, his imagination filling the room with things he absolutely shouldn’t be thinking about. Like what deep down he had wanted to do to Merlin when he caught him against the wall. It was only after a few minutes that the King felt some release and finally fell into a sound sleep. Perhaps it was because, since his discussion with his wife, the guilt was not as heavy as usual.

******

The following week dragged on painfully for Merlin. He missed the movement, the danger, and the simple presence of the knights. He even missed the hunts. Being stuck in Gaius’s quarters or buried in a physician’s apprentice duties made him restless. He missed freedom and the woods. Something in his heart needed to be filled. His life had no clear direction anymore, and the uselessness settled in him like a slow disease. He barely had any opportunities to use his magic, which was not only boring but made the loneliness sharper. He longed to visit the druids, to seek answers, to feel safe practicing magic among people who understood him. The destiny he was supposed to fulfill began to blur in his mind. Was this really all there was? Maybe something else was waiting elsewhere. The thought itself felt like betrayal. Another part of him snapped back bitterly. I’ve given that prat enough time. What more can I do? Trying to reconcile those two voices, Merlin decided to leave for only two weeks.  Besides, Gaius was aging, and Merlin’s presence still mattered here, but he needed more, for at least those two weeks. 

*******

Arthur’s meeting with the council was one of the most stressful of his life. It reminded him too much of confronting his father in the past. Only now, he was the king. Yes, the council’s approval made change easier, without major consequences, but in the end, the final decision rested with him.

He had called the meeting early in the week, giving himself time to prepare his arguments. The knights were summoned as well. Gwen had been invaluable, they spent hours refining strategies and anticipating objections, shaping a plan strong enough to achieve their goal. 

It was a highly controversial decision, so it was no surprise that when Arthur finally announced the reason for the meeting, half the room gasped. Some froze in silence. Others shot to their feet in disbelief. Whispers rippled through the chamber until Arthur raised a hand and the noise died instantly. 

“Listen, I know about my father's beliefs about magic, I even had the same for a long time” Arthur said steadily. “And I know many of you share those beliefs. But my father was partly wrong. Perhaps fear guided him, or misunderstanding. But I know it was with the goal of protecting Camelot to the best of his knowledge. He ruled well. That should not be forgotten.”

He took a long pause before continuing. As much as he hated some of his father’s decisions, he wanted him to be remembered with respect. 

“But with the events of the past years, I have seen magic with my own eyes. Like a blade, it carries the power to destroy or protect. As my knights must know, the danger lies not in the weapon, but in the hand that wields it. I have witnessed it enough times to question my convictions.”

His eyes scanned the audience. Some heads nodded, while others looked ready to burst.

“I know what some of you think... magic corrupts. Well, power itself can corrupt just as easily. Ask yourselves what gives you power in your own lives, and what you choose to do with it.”

He saw his most loyal knights smile in approval while other listeners seemed to ponder his words.

“I’m not asking you to agree with me. I do not wish to hold a court of followers who never doubt. I am telling you that I will make magic legal, and I hope you will give this new law a chance. Maybe I am wrong. If that is the case, I trust you to come to me immediately when proof of that arises.”

Gwen smiled at his side, pride shining in her eyes. The next hour was filled with questions and fears. Both the king and the queen answered each patiently.

************

When the council finally dispersed, Gwaine caught up with Gaius in the corridor, grinning widely.

“Where’s Merlin? I can’t believe he missed that. I have to tell him.”

Gaius tried to remain composed, though satisfaction softened his expression after Arthur’s announcement. Maybe relief  was the strongest emotion in his heart at that moment, so it took a moment before he registered Gwaine’s question.

“Ah, he’s packing to go visit the druids.”

The knight frowned, unsure how to respond. The old man rolled his eyes and smiled.

“Of course I know that Merlin told you about his magic.’’

Relieved, Gwaine nodded. He wanted to ask why Merlin was going there, but he stopped himself. He understood why Merlin needed to leave. The past month had worn him down badly. Still, he wondered how the king would react, not only after such a monumental announcement but because he saw the same pain in Arthur’s demeanor as in Merlin’s. The way he expressed it was different. Cold fury accompanied his every move. Even in training, the knights could feel the pressure of it, like heat trapped beneath stone. The prat, if he could even call him just that these days, was an unstoppable sharp blade.

 “It makes sense. I’ll miss the lad. Do I have time to say good bye?”

Gaius raised an eyebrow, unsure of why Gwaine would want to say goodbye to Merlin when he was leaving for such a short trip.

“I think so.”

Gwaine thanked him and hurried toward Gaius’s chambers.

Arthur was making his way in the castle halls when he suddenly caught a glimpse of Gwaine’s worried face. 

“Gwaine! Is everything alright?”

“Ah yes, just going to say goodbye to Merlin!”

Frowning, Arthur tried to make sense of what he had just heard while approaching Gwaine.

“Goodbye? ”

“Yeah, he’s leaving Camelot.”

Merlin was leaving Camelot, leaving him? After all his talk about destiny and wanting to stay by his side… After Arthur made magic legal for- well as a duty of a fair king. 

What would a life without Merlin look like? No goofy smiles, no challenging of his position, no honest opinion and no raven-haired man in the purest of white sheets.

“Where is he right now?”

“Still in his room. ”

“I’m coming with you.”

They reached Gaius’s door quickly and Arthur stopped Gwaine with an arm.

“Let me speak to him alone’’

“He’s my friend too.”

“And I am your king”

Resigned, Gwaine nodded but warned him before stepping away.

“You may be my king, but I hold Merlin in the highest regard. Do not forget you are not the only one who will miss him.”

*******

Arthur hurried to Merlin’s room. The wooden door burst open, revealing Merlin bent over, picking something up from under his bed. Arthur’s brain betrayed him for one second at the sight before the sorcerer stood up and turned around, startled. 

“Arthur what the hell?!”

Frozen in the doorway, Arthur realized he had absolutely no plan for what he wanted to say.

“Merlin. Just… hear me out before you leave.”

Merlin crossed his arms and tried to look unbothered.

“And why would I do that?”

The words were out before Arthur could stop them.

“Don’t go.”

Embarrassed by this unusual display of honesty towards himself, he wished he could swallow it back.

Merlin scoffed. “You didn’t want me near you, and now you do? You’re very difficult to follow, are you ill?”

“Merlin’’ he warned. 

“Fine. You got five minutes.”

Arthur took a breath and stepped toward the small window. He inhaled some fresh air, and started speaking without thinking, like the idea of losing Merlin took over his duties and fears.

“First, you do know that if I wanted more than five minutes, you couldn’t do a thing about it?” he said, trying to feel like he had control over the situation.

“Of course, my lord.”
The king felt a hint of sarcasm, but the familiarity of it made him ignore it.

“I thought about you, about magic, in the past weeks. A part of me cannot forget the lies, like you will always hide a part of yourself from me because you did it so easily in the past years.’’

“It was not easy. I hated every second of it.”

Arthur knew his nervousness made him choose his words poorly, as if he only saw the situation from his own point of view 

“I don’t want to offer you only survival anymore.”*

“What, don’t tell me that it’s over and you finally want to burn me. It’s hard enough to live.”*

“Merlin, can you just listen and not talk back.’’Arthur was now looking at him straight in the eyes. “I made magic legal this morning.”

The words landed like thunder. 

“Very funny my lord.”

“I’m not trying to be funny, I am in fact very serious.”

Still feeling like he was walking on eggshells, Merlin asked carefully:

“How do you know that you’re right about this decision?”*

“With everything we’ve been through, everything I saw of magic, my judgment is starting to change. I cannot continue to bear a sword if that means that the weapons of others are prohibited. I’m not saying my mind is totally made up, but I do… feel… an injustice, the weight of the deaths, and I want to fix it. I at least want to give it a chance.”

As much as Merlin was hopeful hearing those words, there was still something that didn’t quite fit with the situation.

“Then, why have you been looking at me like you wanted to slit my throat for weeks?”

Arthur stepped closer, voice firm and commanding, pupils dilated.

“Never say that again. That is not what I want.”

In any other conflict, Merlin would have called Arthur a clotepole and answered back, but this was not their usual conflict.  All his body did was flinch and stand straighter.

“I feel betrayed,” Arthur admitted. “You are the person I trusted most. And, it’s like I didn’t do enough for you to think of me as a person you could trust with your secret. I-”

“Whatever I've done, I did it for your safety -”

Arthur stopped him with a gesture, hesitating, emphasizing his words slowly.

 “I understand that rationally, but emotionally I feel like shit. And since you brought me back from a certain death, it’s like a part of me I didn’t know existed has been touched. Not only do I have to wrap my head around that, but also the concept of who you are and what magic is. I don’t even know if I wanted to come back to all of this.”

Voice shaking, Merlin took a step closer to his king. 

“I am sorry to have taken that choice from you Arthur.” He looked up straight into his eyes.

“I want to be there for you, with all that I have and as long as I can, but you won’t allow me.”

A silent moment passed between them, the tension was thick and heavy as they both stared at each other.

“I want you to stay in Camelot. Do not leave. A life without your clumsiness and banter would be boring.”

Raising an eyebrow and picking up on the misunderstanding, Merlin smirked and responded teasingly.

“It’s just two weeks. You’ll survive.”

Arthur felt heat rising in his face. 

“Right. Yes. Of course.” He tried to maintain a kingly composure. He started to leave but turned back.

“And if I ordered you to bring me breakfast tomorrow morning, would you still want to go?”

The warlock bit his lip, trying to suppress a hint of hopeful joy.

“And why would I do that?”

“Because you are my manservant, and maybe I want you to talk to me a bit more about magic while I enjoy my breakfast.”

“I thought George was your manservant.”

“Why are you still questioning my orders, Merlin?”

Merlin’s breath fluttered, but he steadied himself.

“Well then, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow morning sire”. 

They definitely failed to suppress stupid smiles before parting, but they succeeded in hiding them from each other.

That night as well, sleep refused to come. Merlin couldn’t quite understand why the thought of serving the prat again made his chest feel so strangely alive. Maybe because, whether he liked it or not, his world still revolved dangerously close to Arthur.

Chapter Text

Chapter 4

The druids were going about their daily occupations when they caught sight of a tall, muscular man in a green cloak. Helmar was back from the Crystal Cave. He took a moment to greet his comrades and pour himself some ale before beginning the story of what he had learned. Some of the druids were relieved, while others were surprised and uncertain about how this new prophecy would unfold. It could be a dangerous path that awaited Emrys and the king, which meant potential danger for all of them.

The revelation was not the only topic of conversation. News had also reached them of Camelot’s new law on magic. With ears all across the realm, the message had travelled quickly. They all felt their chains fall away. They no longer had to hide. They could walk freely without fear of being burned. Gratitude toward the king spread through the camp, along with pride in Emrys and the strengthening of his destiny. Hope grew stronger, though caution still lingered beneath the celebration. After so many years of being hunted, they could not let their forts collapse or grow careless. 

As the camp fire died, some of the druids already sleeping from too much drinking, the camp began to settle for the night. Helmar announced to his closest confidants his departure for Camelot at dawn. A part of him felt nervous at the thought of meeting the great warlock. He wondered what he might look like. 

Only one druid remained awake. He waited for some time, making sure the others were fully asleep before quietly slipping away, covering his tracks with magic. Daegan, that was his name, needed to speak with his leader in the northern plains. They finally could have the upper hand in learning how to lead Camelot and its allies towards ruin.

***********

On one side of the wooden door of the King’s chamber, Merlin was nervously pacing while chewing on his lip. It was probably the first time he had felt this nervous about the idea of waking up the king. He had faced monsters, and yet going back to his routine with the king scared him even more. 

Get a grip, it’s only Arthur, he never made you that nervous in the past. He thought.

On the other side of the door, inside the chamber, Arthur was already awake in his bed. He barely slept, and yes, he guessed the footsteps beyond his door belonged to Merlin. 

Maybe their dynamic had changed a bit after all. Like something deeply buried was no longer so impossible to ignore. Even in silence, the air and the energy was heavy and pulled them in a different mood. 

The warlock took a deep breath and entered the room. Instantly the blonde’s eyes shut, faking a deep sleep.

“Uhm, rise and shine my lord!”

Arthur slowly opened his eyes and yawned like he was just waking up. 

“I don’t smell any breakfast entering this room.”

“Well, I wasn't sure if you wanted any. You usually skip it when you train with the knights that early.”

“No training this morning,” Arthur said, pushing himself upright. “I moved it.”

Annoyed, the warlock crossed his arms.

 “Well, thanks for telling me. I’ll go fetch your food, then.”

Before he could pass the door, Arthur threw the covers aside and got out of bed.

“I literally told you I wanted to talk to you over breakfast.”

Merlin shot him a look. “I thought you were joking.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers lightly. 

“Can’t you just like…magically make it appear?”

Laughing a bit, the raven-boy turned around.

“That’s not how it works. I can’t conjure food like that, I’m not even sure it would be edible.”

“Then tell me, how does it work?”

“Can I at least go fetch your breakfast, sire?”

The king was suddenly dangerously close to Merlin, a challenge gleaming in his eyes.

“Ok,” he whispered, very close to his servant’s ear, which made the skinnier boy shiver down his spine, almost forgetting where he was. Then Arthur took a step back, trying not to grin. “Can you teleport to the kitchen and then back in here?”

“Arthur…”

Arthur lifted his hands in mock surrender, eyes glinting with provocation. 

“You. Have actually five minutes.”

Merlin stared at him, flabbergasted, for a heartbeat, before bolting to the kitchens. 

***********

When Arthur finally had his breakfast in front of him, he invited Merlin to sit beside him. For a fleeting second, he considered sharing it with him. But for now control felt even more tempting. He wanted to feel in charge. 

“Are you sure you want to know everything?”

“Do you think I said what I said yesterday for no reason, and that I would push a knight’s training just for the fun of it?”

“Yes?”

He scoffed and took a bite of his breakfast. 

“Idiot. Just tell me, I want to hear what you have to say.”

“And you won’t burn me to death?”

“No Merlin, I won’t, trust me.”

Merlin explained his first steps as a warlock, how natural it was for him. He talked about his mother, and Balinor. Sometimes, his voice broke, not only because of the loss, but because of the freedom of finally telling everything to the man he adored. But he quickly regained his composure. He wanted no pity. 

He shared all the times he used magic, even that one time while playing dice. Arthur asked a lot of questions. So, even if that felt as weird as it was a relief, Merlin took his time to share what he understood of magic, its limits, and why some people become corrupted by such power.. He also shared experiences of how he witnessed it being used for good, which he wanted Arthur to know. Finally, he explained the prophecy in detail, leaving nothing out; sharing everything he could remember with his king.

At the end of their three-hour conversation, both of their heads were hammering. Arthur was standing by the window, again, hoping fresh air would give him a clue on how to answer.

“So… basically, you are the most powerful sorcerer to ever live and you control dragons. You have another name, Emrys. And, your existence, your power, is because of what I am supposed to achieve.” You were made for me. That thought made his darker side quietly purr with satisfaction. But at the same time, he wondered if he really was the king from the prophecy. What if he is not...mine? Am I worthy of that kind of devotion? Am I really that great a king? 

“Yes. Whatever you go through, I do too.*.”

“That… is a lot to live up to Merlin.*”

“I was not happy about it in the beginning. But as I came to know you, I deeply understood why it was my destiny to be by your side. You were not just a prophecy to complete, but someone I respected and cared deeply about. Someone I came to like and respect. Not because of what the dragon told me, but because of what I witnessed. What Kilgharrah told me does not matter anymore, I would stay by your side either way.”

Seeing the eyes of Merlin, full of worship, he could have stopped there, but he still wanted more.

“Is that true?” 

“I would hurt with you* every step of the road you choose to take, and die trying to protect you.”

The king’s hands tightened against the stone of the window ledge, a faint smile painting his face. Still, he hated the idea of Merlin dying for him, or dying at all.

“But” Merlin continued “that doesn’t mean I won’t question you before obeying, or follow you blindly without saying my point of view.”

“I wouldn’t expect less. I think that is one of the reasons I kept you by my side for so many years.”

“One of them?”

Arthur stepped back from the window and slowly moved towards his manservant who was still anxiously sitting on the wooden chair. While looking in his uncertain eyes, Arthur’s fingertips brushed Merlin’s jaw.

“Yes, one of them,” he said faintly. 

Both of them were mesmerized, frozen in time. Arthur’s fingers found their way at the nape of Merlin’s neck. The warlock's eyes almost closed, forgetting who he was, that Arthur was married, and that he had no place to surrender to his desire. And yet, he felt himself melt.

“Look at me,” he said as he lifted Merlin’s chin. 

He hesitantly opened his eyes, knowing they were golden. Then, fire collided with a melting Arctic Ocean. Merlin parted his lips, like he was awaiting something. Then a loud knock shattered the moment, they could almost hear a porcelain cup falling on the ground. 

“Sire? Are you alright?” They heard Percival’s voice.

It took a second before Arthur pulled his hand away from Merlin, who was still not able to look away or move.

“Yes, what is it?”

“Well, we were wondering if we understood the time for the training.”

Almost laughing, Merlin whispered;

“My lord, did you just forget the training you already pushed to later.”

Waving a finger to silence him he replied:

“Tell the knights I will be there in 20 minutes and that I apologize for the wait.”

“Sure my lord.”

They heard his steps leave the door, so Merlin slowly stood up from the chair, leaving his face so close to Arthur’s he almost forgot to breathe. 

“Well, should I put on your armor?”

It took everything in Arthur’s restraint to not lean a few inches to savagely kiss the one in front of him. He instead took a step back and cleared his throat. 

“It is your duty as my servant.”

They would lie if they said that this task was anything but tense. Especially when Merlin finished by strapping the armor, breath touching Arthur’s neck like an invitation. The king had to call upon his restraint to keep his hands from pushing down the servant’s head to kneel in front of him, and finally feel heat around his desire. 

Both of them left the chamber biting the inside of their cheeks. Arthur was going to enjoy training far more than he should.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5

When Arthur arrived at the training grounds, the knights passed right by him to go greet Merlin. 

“Finally, the princess made a sound decision,” Gwaine said quietly enough that only Merlin could hear him as he hugged him. 

They were all happy to see the servant’s face, but also relieved that maybe the king would be less tense and more fair during training. 

One face Merlin didn’t recognize stood at the back of the crowd of knights. With his red hair and strong jaw, he was easy to notice. After the servant had finished greeting the other knights, the warrior made his way through the group and presented his hand to shake Merlin’s. 

“I am Sir Jakob. I have heard a lot about you, it’s a pleasure.” If someone had been paying attention, they would have noticed Jakob’s lingering gaze on Merlin. The servant didn’t notice, and shook his hand in return.

“So you are new among the king’s close fighters. I hope he isn’t too hard on you!’’

Merlin said with interest before withdrawing his hand back.

“The king is challenging, as he should be.’’

“Uhm, of course he is. I couldn't imagine him being anything less than that.’’ 

Sensing the sarcastic tone, the knight laughed and squeezed the servant’s shoulder. 

“Cheeky. I like that.’’

Before Merlin could reply, they heard a commanding, powerful voice cutting through the air.

“Sir Jakob! You shall start training with me. Right now.’’

Raising his eyebrows, the knight took one last look at Merlin and went to his position on the training field. Merlin was still smiling at the encounter and the familiar dynamic, until Arthur started to fight. And not only did he fight, he hammered his sword with a precision and chaotic strength that almost looked superhuman. The attack was brutal and unusual in the eyes of the warlock. Sir Jakob didn’t even have a chance to land a single blow and quickly ended up on the ground. To Merlin’s surprise, the other knights kept almost impassive expressions, as if it were only slightly out of the routine. Merlin tried to find an explanation by looking at Gwaine, who simply shrugged helplessly, before going to his doom as it was his turn to bite the dust.

“Quite intense, your king,’' said Jakob, still out of breath. 

Half proud but also worried, Merlin covered it with a nervous laugh. 

“Yeah, he’s quite the show-off.’’

“Well, he’s lucky to have you to support all that greatness.’’

Merlin covered his mouth, trying to hide his genuine smile. He liked Sir Jakob’s repartee.

The redhead added,

“Does he ever give you any time off?’’

Unluckily for him, the knight did not notice Leon’s and Percival’s wide eyes, silently warning him as they shook their heads.

“Not usually.’’

Taking a step closer to the servant, his voice lowered. 

“Too bad.’’ 

Leon and Percival exchanged a look, their faces no longer so neutral. They felt a mix of anticipation and amusement as Merlin remained completely unfazed by the obvious flirting and answered cheerfully.

“You should tell him that !’’

And nobody, except the two men talking, was surprised to hear Arthur’s voice as Gwaine returned from a rough beating.

“Sir Jakob. I see you are still full of energy. Come and show me how much.’’

Pride made the knight take one last look at Merlin before returning in vain to the king. 

Sir Jakob did not have any stamina left to hold a conversation with anyone after that. 

*************

Their routine resumed as before. Yet each of them strangely felt like they were restraining themselves. Like children caught misbehaving, they were almost polite toward one another. Arthur was learning to enjoy Merlin’s presence again, cautiously acknowledging that he was still the same. Still, he needed to witness the other side of his servant. Otherwise, what would make it real? He needed to remember that not only were his feelings finally clearer, but that the situation was also on a completely different level. So one night, at the most appropriate moment, while Merlin was washing Arthur’s hair during his bath, he asked:

“You said something about your existence being almost… made for me. Could you use magic against me?’’

Merlin’s breath caught for a moment, his hands still in Arthur’s hair. The way Arthur said those three words made something shiver inside of him. It was disturbing, yet the way his gut clenched with anticipation felt like he was waiting for an undiscovered release.

“I have no limits on how I use my magic. I could decide to walk away from my destiny right now if that’s what I wanted.’’

For a brief moment of silence, the king’s heart nearly stopped. He almost wanted to clutch his chest.

“But,’’ Merlin continued while washing the king’s hair, “it would be very difficult for me to do. Not only because of what I must achieve. I could never hurt you, sire. Destiny or not, I will serve and trust you because I see beyond your prattish ways.’’

The king slowly leaned his head back so he could meet Merlin’s eyes.

“Big words for you, Merlin. How can I trust them?’’

Merlin almost forgot to answer. 

“Name one time I ever did something against you.’’ 

Arthur broke eye contact after a few seconds, sinking his head back under the water to rinse his hair. When he surfaced, he finally replied:

“I’m pretty sure every time you conveniently won at dice.’’

Merlin smiled while fetching a towel and placing it beside the bath.

“That is not a serious offense, my Lord. I mean something that could have truly harmed you.”

Arthur bit the inside of his cheek. He knew he couldn’t find a tangible answer. He had thought about it all week, trying to grasp at something to justify his anger. But the lie, even if it had been meant to protect him and even if he understood Merlin’s reasons, was all that remained. Arthur only had emotional arguments for his pain. He knew Merlin had suffered from the lie, yet the need to see it, to punish it, was a powerful and difficult impulse to tame.

The king stood up from the bath in all his nakedness. Merlin felt his cheeks redden, as always, and turned away to give him privacy.

“Stay.’’

His back still turned, the servant froze as Arthur stepped out of the bath, water streaming down his body and pooling on the floor.

“You know, Merlin, as a servant, it should be part of your duty to dry me. Perhaps I’ve been too easy on you.” That damned cockiness was back in his voice.

Merlin’s heart was exhausted from racing so much these past weeks.

“Is… Is it? ’’

“I am king, so I say it is. And now I’m getting cold. It’s rather unpleasant.” He could only be proud of himself as Merlin slowly turned to face him, obviously nervous.

“Well? Pick it up, Merlin.’’

The warlock’s hands trembled slightly. He had spent years hiding his feelings for the king, but this was a test of self-control that reached a whole other level. He took the towel resting beside the bath, inches from Arthur’s body. Arthur felt the fabric brush his shoulder first, then his chest. He watched with fascination as Merlin tried to keep his gaze unfocused, fixed somewhere in the air. Having only a towel separating the heat of their skin was pure torture.. The king wanted more, and Merlin was afraid to reveal too much. 

Arthur grabbed Merlin’s jaw, rough fingers against delicate bones, tilting his head to force their eyes to meet.

“I need you to do a proper job. For that, you must look at me. Will you be good for me?’’ 

Almost surrendering control, which oddly felt like relief for his poor overwhelmed heart, Merlin let his gaze drift over the strong body before him and began drying lower. He started lowering himself onto his knees for better access, glancing once more at Arthur’s face, where a grin was clearly visible. That was what snapped Merlin out of his trance and reminded him of free will. 

He stood abruptly and roughly ruffled Arthur’s hair with the towel, like one would with an animal.

Arthur slightly pushed him in protest.

“Merlin!!’’

He snatched the towel back, suppressing a smile at the servant’s laughter and the familiar teasing.

“You may go. I’ll finish myself. Obviously, you can’t even do this right.”

“Right. Good night, my Lord.”

Arthur felt like he had lost a contest and didn’t bother replying.

************

Days later, Arthur scheduled a meeting with the Knights of the Round Table. This time he did not feel the need to summon the council. The previous announcement was already enough for them to digest. The decision he was preparing to make carried risk, but it was not as controversial. He wanted honest opinions and sound strategies, from warriors to warriors.

An hour earlier, in his chambers, Arthur had been sitting at his desk while Merlin leaned against it beside him.

“Do you think I’m making a mistake?’’

“Does Gwen think you are making one?’’

Merlin asked with genuine curiosity, though the question carried another intention. He had noticed that Gwen no longer slept in Arthur’s chambers, that they barely spoke. No stolen kisses, no lingering touches. Nothing.

“No. I consulted her and she agreed with me. But I’d like your opinion. I know you paid attention to my struggles of making that decision.’’

So they were still talking, Merlin noted. His curiosity deepened, but it was not the moment to pry.

“Nervous, my Lord?’’

“Just tell me.’’

The servant sighed. “It’s a risk, but if it works, it’s worth taking. You need to be ready for the consequences if it goes badly. If that happens, it won’t be your fault. You must remember that.” Merlin hesitated. “And if… you need me to handle some of those consequences…”

Arthur understood what he meant. He was curious of the place Merlin’s power would take now that magic was legal. But, fear still lingered in his gut. Not of Merlin’s power, but of losing him. Against his better judgment, Arthur grabbed Merlin’s wrist, what should have been a touch to reassure himself, felt more like a possessive one.

“Not without my permission.’’ 

“I know,” Merlin replied, conflicted and irritated.

Realizing how harsh he sounded, Arthur softened and pulled him closer as Merlin tried to step away.

“Maybe once the kingdom and council grow more comfortable with the new law, we can relax. But right now the situation is fragile. Some powerful people still hate sorcerers. Even as king, I must watch my step.’’

Eased, Merlin gently brushed his thumb over Arthur’s grip, signaling he could let go. Arthur released him, strangely comforted by the intimacy of a new gesture he could not reject. It was like Merlin was finally letting his guard down. When he let him go, the servant’s hand went to Arthur’s  shoulder, caring. 

“Then if it’s truly that fragile, is the kingdom stable enough for your next step? Will these powerful people seize the opportunity to act on their discontent?’’

The king was always struck by Merlin’s intelligence. He knew he was brilliant, even if he could not consciously admit it, but the contrast with his foolishness was shocking. 

“I’ve thought about that. It’s another risk. But if we play it well, it could help people accept and understand magic even more.’’

“I trust your decisions, Arthur. I know they are the best for Camelot.’’

That trust eased some of Arthur’s tension. He knew it was not blind and foolish.

“Thank you.’’

Blinking in disbelief, Merlin took two steps back.

“What did you just say?’’

The king rolled his eyes. “ I’m sure you heard me with your big ears.’’ 

“I don’t think I did.’’

Arthur stood up, advancing towards Merlin who put his arms in the air in surrender while backing towards the door. It was seconds before Arthur took a pen from his desk and tried to throw it at the servant who was already hastly opening the door. 

Arthur missed his target and yelled:

‘’Well you are dismissed! I expect you the be here at the meeting.’’

***********

On his way to the Round Table chamber, Arthur noticed a few knights still chatting. His gaze stopped on one red-haired knight speaking closely with his manservant. Merlin’s back rested against the stone wall while Sir Jakob leaned toward him, one hand braced nearby. His servant was laughing at something, and the satisfaction of making him laugh radiated around the knight’s smug face. The king knew that feeling, and did not like the idea of someone else enjoying it so much. When he saw the man’s hand stroke Merlin’s arm, he realized he loathed the sight. And loathing, like a weed taking roots inside his veins and invading his mind, took over the brightest part of Arthur’s. Something was trying to get out, it was getting closer. Maybe he should just let it happen.*

Merlin was listening to Jakob recount a humorous story about ending up drinking with beggars. When Jakob touched his arm, Merlin found it slightly surprising, but did not think much of it. 

“Do you ever go to the tavern, Merlin? Maybe you could come with me one night?”

“Well-”

He could not finish his sentence. Someone tugged sharply at his neckerchief, nearly making him stumble. An arm wrapped firmly around his shoulders.

“No, Merlin does not go to the tavern.’’ And that was a sure fact that Arthur understood since Merlin’s magic was revealed. He almost never went to the fucking tavern, and he was sure as hell not gonna start going with that men. Arthur tried to cover his shadow, but it was becoming more difficult to fight it any longer.*

“My king.’’ The knight said respectfully while standing up straighter. 

“Arthur!’’ The warlock said as he looked up to him, not pulling away from his side embrace. Arthur was becoming more and more open to hugs, and Merlin was not gonna complain. 

“I’ll be taking back my servant, Sir Jakob.’’ 

Brown eyes met blue ones, dead with anger, and once again the knight felt like the king could actually kill him. He did not miss the claiming arm around Merlin. It was not a normal friendly embrace. Curiosity about the nature of their bond took its place. Defeated, he said;

“Of course, my Lord.’’ Arthur did not wait for him to go and took Merlin with him as he made his way in the chamber of the Round Table, knights and advisors like Gaius following and taking their places. Everything else seemed shallow for a moment.* He released Merlin only once his sense of self returned upon seeing the Round Table.

Arthur sat beside his queen, to her right, both of them smiling at each other. A trace of shame and guilt passed through him. He had not wanted to reopen the conversation from the terrace. He didn't know what more to say or what he would hope to gain by reopening that conversation. They mostly behaved like friends and political partners. Still, Arthur felt a sense of loss he could not yet name. And If Gwen was feeling awkward, it did not show.

Merlin stood behind him, and Arthur caught himself wishing he were seated at his right side. 

As silence settled, Arthur began. Gaius raised an eyebrow at Merlin, knowing the servant likely knew what this was about. Merlin nodded with a reassuring smile.

“As you all know, one of my goals as king has always been to unite the realm and establish peace between kingdoms. We have made difficult but necessary decisions, like legalizing magic. I thank you all for your support.’’ He paused, reading the room. “And now, once again, I ask you to take another risk for Camelot and for peace.’’ 

Without knowing what he was about to announce, those seated nodded in confident agreement, giving Arthur the courage to continue. “For the greater good, I wish to officially make peace with King Lot.”  

The announcement did not strike as deeply as the magic law. They all knew of Lot’s cruelty but that kind of achievement could open the door wider to peace among all of the kingdoms. 

“So today, I want your opinions on how to achieve this. Do not hesitate to challenge me rather than fear me. I need to know this decision is the best one, guided by your contributions.‘’

And so the meeting, which often resembled a debate, began.

Chapter Text

Everyone was departing the Round Table chamber. It took them about three hours to reach a decision on how to approach the king’s idea. First, they would send a letter to King Lot with an official invitation to stay at the castle for a few days. They would make it clear that the purpose was to discuss peace and that he could bring anyone he wished to accompany him. It was the least they could do, since inviting him into their territory could seem threatening. Camelot would maintain a sense of control if something went wrong, since they would be on familiar ground. And of course, they would inform the other allied kings of their goal. Not only out of respect, but so they would clearly understand the intention  behind the gesture.

When only the king, the queen, and Merlin were left in the chamber, Arthur made a sign for his servant to leave.

“How are you?” Arthur spoke first, obviously out of his comfort zone. 

“Good. What about you?”

“Great… We haven’t talked much outside of our duties these past days. I wanted to make sure you were fine.”

“I am… Do you wish to talk about something outside of our duties?” Gwen seemed suspicious of Arthur’s intentions.

“I don’t know. I just feel this… guilt.” The king admitted it almost with shame. 

“Well, so do I, Arthur. I’ve felt it for a long time but pushed it aside. But I also feel a bit angry, if I must say.” She started kindly but now sounded slightly annoyed.

Arthur frowned. “I’m so sorry to have put you in that position.”
“I don’t think you understand quite why I am angry, Arthur!” She stepped back and turned to face the wall, staring at nothing.

The king thought he had a pretty good idea of why she was angry, but still gestured for her to continue.

“I do not have the chance to act upon my… love. He is dead, Arthur. And I don’t think he can come back from it a third time. But you! Yours is alive, and still by your side as your servant when he could be so much more.” Pain was breaking through her voice. Arthur felt a fresh wave of guilt. 

“But what about you?” 

Guinevere finally turned around to look at him.

“I think I was quite clear that I would survive if you acted upon your feelings. That I understood you.”

Arthur took a step closer, pained by her words. 

“I don’t want you to just survive. I want you to be happy.”

The queen offered a small smile. 

“I’m sorry for the poor choice of words, but Arthur, my happiness does not rest in your hands. I have friends, a role as queen, and changes I can make.”

The king was lost for words for a minute. He couldn’t blame this on his duty to honor Gwen anymore; he couldn't avoid it. 

“I don’t know how to act around him,’’ he admitted, dropping his gaze to the floor. 

“I don’t even know if he feels the same.”

“You are telling me you doubt a man who has burdened himself with a secret for your safety for years, who has stayed by your side all this time and put you first, who looks at you like he worships you, and who has never had anyone romantically in his life? You think he doesn’t feel the same?”

He tried not to look too hopeful, suppressing a smile, trying to keep his pride as he asked carefully, like it meant nothing:

“Did he really never have anyone in his life?”

Gwen scoffed, amused.

“That is what you focus on?’’ She paused, thinking of which direction she should go. “I only know of one girl or two he liked for a moment, but nothing serious.” 

Well, that is two too many, Arthur thought.

“Please talk to him, and stop sulking about me. I can take care of myself.”

“That I know,” said the king fondly. “But don’t erase yourself, Gwen. Tell me if I can do anything for your happiness.”

“Of course.”

************

Two days later, Arthur was pacing in his room. 

“I need to get out of here. I feel like I’m losing my mind waiting for King Lot to answer.’’ “Well, what do you want to do?’’ Merlin asked carefully, dreading the King’s answer. “Let’s go for a hunt with a few knights. Go ask Gwaine and Percival.’’ 

“What about Sir Jakob? It could help him feel included.’’ Arthur gritted his teeth. “No.’’

“Why not?’’ 

“Just do as I say. Am I not your king anymore now that I know you are a warlock?’’ 

“Of course.’’ Merlin bowed. It was always a strange feeling to remember that Arthur knew about him. He just wanted to show him that nothing had changed, even though he knew deep down that everything had.

*************

In Essetir, King Lot was sitting at his desk, reading a letter from Arthur Pendragon.

 “Arthur Pendragon wants me to come to Camelot to discuss the relationship between our kingdoms,” he said, almost laughing. 

“Wouldn’t that be a great opportunity for peace, Father?” his daughter asked. 

“You are half right, Lysandra. It is indeed a great opportunity.” He smiled viciously and ordered his servant to fetch him ink, a quill, and paper. 

“I shall write to our northern ally about our next step.”

*************

Back in Camelot, the knights, Merlin, and their King were making their way through the forest, bringing back a generous haul. They were only a few minutes away from the castle. It was a beautiful sunny day, perhaps a bit too hot, especially with all that armor. Even Merlin seemed overwhelmed by the heat. The servant whispered to Arthur, 

“There’s a river two minutes from here. It would be great for us in this heat.” 

“How do you know that?” 

“I can sense it.”

Arthur stopped him with his hand, waiting a few seconds for the knights to walk ahead. 

“Did you just do magic?” 

“No. It is just who I am. I don’t have to do anything.” 

“Right.” He hesitated. 

“Arthur, I just want to freshen up. And I’m sure you do too. Even more than me.”

Defeated by the heat, and swayed by the honesty in Merlin’s words, he could only comply. “Alright. Where?” 

Merlin gestured in the direction. 

“This way!” Arthur announced to the knights. But somehow, he ended up being the one following Merlin.

Indeed, a calm river lay there. They could almost see the bottom since it was so clear. The knights cheered, happy at the opportunity to cool down, while Merlin did not hesitate to take off his shirt, revealing his pale skin.

He really wanted to go into the water. It had been a while since he had been in direct connection with nature, and he especially felt at his best when water was involved. 

Nature was the last thing on Arthur’s mind. Well, biologically, the nature of man made was pretty strong since he felt his cock jolt as he laid eyes on the smooth skin, the lean figure, and the pink nipples of his servant. He wondered if they would harden once in the cold water, or maybe under his touch. 

“In a hurry, Merls?” 

Gwaine’s playful voice broke through. Arthur remembered they were not alone and thought maybe coming to the river was a terrible and shitty idea. Even more so now that he had to contain his raging hard-on.

“Well, I’m very hot.” 

“You sure are,” Gwaine replied. Merlin laughed in exasperation and went to take off his pants, leaving only his breeches. Arthur turned toward his knights and, with one look, like a wolf guarding his bone, made it clear he wanted them to look away. Once Merlin was in the water, the others began to undress as well. Arthur waited for his desire to calm before taking his pants and breeches off, trying to think about something disgusting. 

Where Merlin’s skin was pale, as if the sun could burn him instantly, Arthur’s was golden, like he could melt an iceberg. When Merlin’s head emerged from the water, he almost forgot to breathe when he saw Arthur. It was obviously not the first time he had seen his King naked, but right there, in the daylight, he looked… stunning. 

The warlock’s gaze drifted to the V-shaped line of Arthur’s hips. And as much as he wanted to stop himself from looking lower, he couldn’t. Even half-resting, the king’s prick was impossible to ignore. His lips parted slightly. Then a splash of water hit his face—more like a tsunami.

“Gwaine, what the hell?!” 

“Stop drooling or he’ll love himself even more.” Merlin scoffed and splashed water back at him. 

“Impossible. And I was not drooling.’’

Suddenly, Arthur emerged right beside him. “Drooling over what, Merlin?”

Merlin was lost for words, trying not to stare at the water sliding down Arthur’s skin. Finding an explanation at the same time was too much for his brain.

“Over me, of course!” said Gwaine, grabbing Merlin’s shoulder playfully. 

Something dark crossed Arthur’s eyes as he saw fingers on his servant's skin. 

Percival was nearby, watching the scene with confusion. He just wanted to enjoy the water. 

“I think I would like a moment alone. You can all return to Camelot. It’s only minutes away.” 

“Are you sure? As King, you are vulnerable without protection,” Percival frowned. 

“We are so close to Camelot I can smell the bread baking. Besides, yes, I am king. But do not forget I am also a warrior who beats all of you in training.” 

“Of course, my lord.” Percival went out of the water, followed by Gwaine, who turned around to look at Merlin. 

“Are you coming, Merls?’’ Before Merlin could react, Arthur had already put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Merlin is staying.’’ 

Gwaine frowned, looking at each of them. “I thought you wanted to be alone?’’ 

Feeling a bit caught, Arthur managed to find a plausible explanation.“Merlin is my servant; it doesn't really count. Stop questioning my orders.’’ Arthur sounded annoyed with those last words. 

Gwaine and Percival looked at each other, dumbfounded and got dressed. The knights carried the fruit of their hunt and went on their way after Gwaine said goodbye.

“I wish you both a good… swim.’’ 

As they made their way through the woods, Percival was the first to talk.

“That was weird, no?’’ 

“I don’t even know anymore. Come on.’’

*********

Merlin’s back was resting against a tall rock in the middle of the river, enjoying the cold of the water and the warmth of the sun. His eyes were closed, partly to savor this moment of calm in nature, but also so he wouldn’t be tempted to look at Arthur.

Arthur, however, did not have his eyes closed. He took his sweet time to enjoy the sight of Merlin. The warlock’s hair had grown slightly past his ears. It was really pretty, and once wet, it seemed even longer, glistening like a raven’s feathers. His face was relaxed; plush, full lips slightly parted, almost like an invitation. His bone structure was delicate yet sharp, his ears faintly fae-like. Long, dark lashes rested against his cheeks. His neck was slender, fragile-looking, missing traces of the of a night of passion Arthur wished they could have. His body—slim yet toned, fragile yet unbreakable—was sheathed in water. His narrow hips made Arthur’s hands twitch with need. Droplets traced the lines of his skin, and Arthur ached to touch him, to breathe him in. He truly looked ethereal. How could he have missed that he was a creature of magic? As those thoughts invaded his mind with intense lust, he didn’t notice right away that he had started walking toward Merlin like a magnet. The sound of water moving along his body made Merlin open his eyes. Arthur felt he had lost control; he was finally letting go. Weeks of pent-up feelings and discussions with Gwen collapsed. Life was begging him to act on his desire, something within him shattered. Too much wait, too much beauty, too many eyes on his Merlin, too much restraint for a life he had borrowed. Before he knew it, he stood two feet from his servant, then one. They could not hide anymore. No armor, no darkness. Just them, in broad daylight. 

“Sire?’’ Merlin asked, eyes wide with alarm. His gaze shifted, allowing the King to discern something else behind the mask. Desire. That was enough for Arthur to close the distance and brace one arm against the rock, the water lapping at his hips.

“Yes, Merlin?’’ 

“Are you alright?’’ 

“I am perfectly fine.’’ 

“You are pretty close. Is there something you wanted to tell me? Is that why you had the knights leave?’’ 

They somehow ended up whispering, like they had something to hide from the world, or from each other.

“You know how you brought me back from death with your magic?’’ 

“Yes?’’ 

Arthur took the warlock’s jaw with his free hand and stroked his cheek with a gentle but hungry touch. 

“Well, that not only saved my life, it made me realize too much about it.’’ 

Merlin gulped, wetting his lips with his tongue as Arthur watched the temptation. 

“Is this why you have been acting strange lately? Did I do something wrong when I brought you back?’’ Merlin’s voice betrayed real concern and fluttered from the emotions coursing through his body.

“I cannot answer those questions with a yes or a no,’’ Arthur murmured. Their faces were now so close, they could feel each other’s breath and the weight of desire taming it.

The King sometimes wondered if Merlin had put a charm on him, because he forgot everything else when he looked into his servant's eyes. If that were the case, the enchantment was at its strongest.

Merlin felt hot, anticipating the unknown, when suddenly wet lips met his. It wasn’t uncertain or shy. It was commanding, free of all restraint. A tingling in his lower back and belly made him whimper before kissing back. How could he think clearly when he finally had what he'd been missing for so long? Even magic couldn’t fill what he thought was a void. 

A dominating tongue made its way into his mouth, daring him to do the same, and of course, he did. He felt his king pressing harder against his body, which made his back hurt a little against the rock. But he did not care. He couldn’t even believe what was happening, maybe Arthur was enchanted? But that thought vanished as he felt the hand on his jaw descend to his hip, grabbing it hard enough that nails dug into his skin. Merlin gasped into the kiss. He realized he had forgotten to breathe, but Arthur took a step back to look at what he had just done, hungry for more before kissing him again seconds after, forgetting his duty, the only honor he had was to worship and ravish the body in front of him. He attacked Merlin’s cheeks, jaw, and neck with wet kisses, biting some along the way. 

The water didn’t feel cold enough anymore as Arthur pressed his erection against Merlin’s. Only Merlin’s breeches were separating them. The warlock had been too self-conscious to take them off, but still moaned at the contact. His magic tingled everywhere in his body, feeling it stronger than ever, a sign of how symbiotic this was. Even if it felt so right, a small part of him knew it wasn’t entirely true. 

“Sire, I’m unsure if this is appropriate.’’

“Funny, I thought the same thing when you showed yourself to the knights some time ago.’’

“It’s not uncommon.’’

“It will be now. So, please shut up and let me taste you even more.’’

Merlin wanted to talk about Gwen, to vouch for his role as a husband and king. All of those honorable prospects were erased as Arthur went to take a bite out of his nipple. Once the king had started to let his body be honest about his desire, it was like he could not stop. He had dreamed about that pink flesh between his teeth and on the tip of his tongue, and now he could finally put that wish into action. He sucked and licked like death was waiting at his door the second he stopped. But mercy awaited him when he went to taste Merlin’s full rosy lips again and as he grabbed the back of one of the warlock’s thighs. His fingers were fighting the urge to pull his servant's breeches down and invade him. Merlin forgot how he was supposed to be the greatest sorcerer of all time; at that moment, Arthur could have done anything to him and he wouldn't have been able—or wanted—to do anything against it. Only loyalty and friendship made a small part of his mind think of Gwen again.

“Arthur. We need to stop. It’s wrong.’’ 

Arthur looked at him, eyes dark and hurt. ’’Why? You want it too.’’ 

“It’s Gwen. We cannot do that to her. You love her, you have a duty to her.’’ 

The king sighed and took a step back. ’’I love Guinevere. But it is different with you.’’

“What is different?’’

Arthur looked into Merlin’s eyes, gold fading from them. How could he explain that without him his heart turned to stone, even more so since he came back to life. That it was like a spell trying to make a devil out of him, depraved and drunk on obsession, blind to anything outside  Merlin and himself. *

“Even I cannot put it into words.’’

“That was never your strength.’’ Merlin teased. 

“Shut up. And, if you must know, Gwen helped me to understand and act upon my… attraction… to you.’’ 

“That is quite hard to believe.’’ 

“I thought the same. Understand that I feel the same guilt. If you wish to talk to her, I’m sure she would be more than happy to share this with you; I know she misses her friend.’’

Merlin straightened himself and advanced to whisper, “Until then, I cannot have this kind of… proximity… with you, my lord.’’

“I am not sure how long I can tolerate that excruciating need to devour every inch of you.’’

That made Merlin almost lose his balance, still disbelieving the raw attraction the king was laying bare. The proof of it was again undeniable when he noticed Arthur’s still bulging cock, trying not to look at it for too long. He could not fold again.

“Maybe more cold water will put you at ease for now.’’ And with that, he pushed the king playfully but strong enough to make him fall into the water. Seeing the king’s look of utter dismay as he emerged from the water, Merlin burst into laughter and quickly got out of the river as he saw Arthur going after him for revenge. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 7 

Helmar was finally seeing the city walls of Camelot. After a long journey, he hoped to find Emrys quickly, before the sun went down. Spending the night inside the city did not tempt him. All he had was the name Emrys went by, and the knowledge that the court physician might help him. As he entered the gate, his senses were immediately piqued— people selling at the market, women picking out the best jewels, fresh flowers on display, and a blacksmith sharpening his latest creation. It was a lot for Helmar, who usually rejoiced in reading under a calm tree. His gaze shifted over all those distractions as he tried to focus on his task. First, he needed to ask around about the court physician. 

****************
Merlin was walking to the king’s chambers, earlier than usual. Not at all because he hadn’t caught a wink of sleep after their kiss the day before. He definitely hadn’t thought about it. He certainly hadn’t touched himself to ease the lingering tension. And he absolutely hadn’t spent the night wondering why the king had kissed him. Merlin explored all the possibilities: enchantment, a joke, a shapeshifter, some illness? None of it was enough to quiet his thoughts. He convinced himself it was nothing, that Arthur would act the same as always and they would go back to their routine. After all these years, how could he let himself hope? Yesterday, he had surrendered to the intensity of his attraction and feelings. He had to be more careful. The king would probably realize his mistake overnight. And what about Gwen? He couldn’t believe she knew about this, or that she had something to do with it. That was one of the arguments for the shapeshifter theory. Lost in thought, he didn't hear the queen calling for him at first. He only realized it after a few seconds, and turned around, seeing her standing in the doorway of her chambers, already dressed in a beautiful purple gown.

“Merlin, would you please come here? I would like to talk to you.’’
It somehow felt like a trap; Merlin was a bit dumbfounded by that demand. Feeling the kiss of Gwen’s husband still on his lips, guilt rushed into his heart. He didn’t dare to look her in the eyes.
“I have to go wake up the king.’’ 
Gwen smiled, but her eyes were pleading. “We both know it is not your routine to wake him up this early.’’
Merlin looked around him, searching for some excuse or someone to get him out of this. He didn’t expect it to be today; he hadn’t had the time to think about what to say. He knew he had to talk to Gwen, not only because Arthur had subtly ordered it. Not because he ached for Arthur's skin against his and lips on his mouth. No, he didn’t want to speak to Gwen only for permission. Merlin missed his friend, and wished to understand her, to be there for her, to be honest. He couldn’t bear what he had done; he couldn’t lie. So, he nodded and made his way to her room, feeling almost sneaky.

Silence filled the queen’s chamber as she gestured to the chairs by the fireplace. Merlin nervously sat down, hands uneasy about where to place them, eyes still looking everywhere but at Gwen. She gave him a warm cup of water and honey, hoping it would make the atmosphere warmer, and sat in the other chair that faced the fire.

“Merlin, how are you?’’
He forced a smile, trying to be convincing. “I am great. What about you?’’

“I am too.’’ Merlin felt naked under her gaze, as if she were waiting for him to say something. All he could hear was the crackling fire. He couldn’t bear the uncertainty of the situation, the awkward underlying goal.

“Is there something you wanted to ask me, Gwen?’’ His voice tried not to shake despite the knot in his throat.
“How is Arthur?’’ Her tone was light.
His eyebrows furrowed, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the fire, clicking his tongue carefully. “He is alright, as you must know, since he is your husband.’’ Well, that didn’t sound pathetic or painful at all,  he sarcastically told himself.

“But you two were always closer in some way, don’t you agree?’’ That felt like a trap question. It was like Merlin wasn’t aware of something and Gwen had all the power in the interrogation. "Yes." That was the first word that came to Merlin's mind, and it made his heart clench in the wrong way.
“Maybe? No?’’ You are doing great, Merlin. Somehow, that snarky thought came out in Arthur’s voice.
“Why won’t you look at me? We used to tell each other so much. I understand why you kept the secret of your magic, but right now there is something else.’’ She tilted her head, not in a confronting way, but in a caring and worried one. She looked like she truly was trying to figure him out, but Gwen deep down already knew what she was looking for.
Merlin turned his head to face Gwen, finally stopping hiding his gaze in the fire.
“I-’’ He hesitated, his heart beating fast, defying his fear. “I think there is something wrong with Arthur, since he came back.’’
The queen frowned. “What do you mean?’’

The floor was again the focus of Merlin's gaze. The inside of his lips were a mess of nervous bites. 
“I don’t know yet. Maybe a spell was cast upon him? Maybe I brought him back...wrong.’’ His throat tightened. He gathered all he had to keep tears from coming out. Until this moment, he hadn’t realized how much he was worried about what he had done wrong, how it affected Arthur and the changes in his behavior. He felt pulled in all directions; friendship to Gwen, desire and love for his king, his duty to magic and destiny, and finally his own fears; the past days being a lie, him messing up the spell and ruining Arthur. Merlin jumped a little when he heard Gwen’s chair sliding on the floor, approaching him so she could be closer. Like friends, not servant and queen. She put a hand on his arm, squeezing a little, face full of concern;
“What makes you think that?’’

Her kindness made Merlin fall apart, one tear making its way down his cheek. “I am so sorry.’’ 
He took a breath, and told her everything. Well, not in detail; he didn’t want to turn the knife in the wound. He shared that Arthur had kissed him, and why they had stopped. He told her about Arthur being more affectionate towards him but also even more cold, cutting and imperious than before with anyone else. He told her of his doubts; what if magic was involved? The queen listened quietly, encouraging him when he hesitated. When he finished, she smiled weakly as she shook her head;
“Yes, you are right. Arthur is different since he came back from death. That would change anyone. But, Merlin, what has changed the most, is Arthur finally seeing what I always suspected.’’ She paused, tone low, searching for the right words. “He loves me, but he… craves you. He always has.’’

His heart dropped; the weight was lifted but his body felt electrified. The ground seemed to come apart under him. That was not possible. Was it a dream? Those words coming out of Arthur’s wife, like it was nothing. It was everything.

“You’re joking.’’ He laughed as a defense mechanism.
“I am certainly not.’’
“How can you say that so calmly? He is your husband. I saw you two fall in love and yearn for each other.’’
“Yes, we do love each other. We did wait so long for it to be true. But as time passed, I began to see more clearly. I saw more of your interactions, and saw…’’ Tears welled in her eyes, her voice shaking. She shook her head trying to compose herself as Merlin squeezed her hand in comfort. “I saw Lancelot and myself. A love I never truly had the chance to choose.’’ Guinevere finally emptied her heart, confessing her discussion with Arthur on the terrace, sharing how she had come to that conclusion.
Even if Gwen’s explanation made sense, Merlin felt like an impostor, like Arthur couldn’t feel like this about him. He didn't understand why he would;  there had to be a magical explanation. Merlin’s guilt urged him to kneel in front of Gwen.

“I am so sorry, I wish I could just erase myself.’’
“You don’t have to be. It is not your fault. I am grateful you thought about my well-being, as the best friend that you are. Sometimes, love can make us forget a lot;  I certainly know that. But please, don’t diminish yourself for loving him.' She put a gentle hand on his shoulder “Now, please rise and sit.’’
Merlin slowly went back to his chair.  “You are so good. But, what can I do to honor the exceptional person that you are? ’’
Gwen smiled, wide. “You can start by being honest with yourself—stop hiding. I know you love him, and he needs you as much as you need him. And I will surely come up with something else later.’’
“But, what are you going to do? I want you to be happy, be a queen, feel seen as you deserve.’’
“Like I said to Arthur, I can take care of myself; I am so much more than a wife.’’
“That, I agree with.’’ 
“I am a patient person; I am sure life will put something in my path and everything will fall into place.’’
Merlin laughed, still emotional. “You are wise, too.’’

Gwen bit her lips, and frowned. There was still something on the tip of her tongue. Merlin waited. “Maybe I am. If that is the case, there is a concern—a warning—I must tell you.’’ Merlin thought of magic again. Maybe she was considering that possibility too since all of that sounded unreal.
“What is it?’’

She exhaled and looked at the fire, searching for the words to clearly express herself. “As much as I am sure that Arthur loves you, I am also concerned about the way he does. There is a certain intensity in it, but also, I see darkness. He never looked at me that way.’’

“What do you mean?’’
“Merlin, I saw him look at a man who just asked you to fill his cup with a hand on your arm, and I swear if he had been bound by no duty, he would have killed him.’’
“That’s ridiculous.’’ He tried to brush it off with a wave of his hand. The idea of Arthur—the great King of Camelot—being driven to murderous jealousy over a clumsy servant felt like a story from a bard’s tale.
“I know him, and you do too. But your blindness, perhaps because of your humility, doesn’t let you see it. He looked at me like he wanted to kiss me on a nice picnic. He looks at you like you are the picnic—like he wants to own you.’’
Merlin felt a chill go through him but still wanted to laugh at the idea of being a… picnic. A startled laugh escaped his lips, and a moment later, Gwen’s joined his, the sound breaking the tension.

“I still don’t quite believe it, but I'll try to keep that in mind.’’
‘’My comparison is quite funny, but seriously, Merlin. It’s like all the stars collide when he sees you. A combustible, ready to explode. He could light up the sky with volleys of fire for you. Like all those times he shook principles and laws just to find you.’’*
Merlin wanted to say he would have done the same for anyone, but a knock on the door made them jump from their private bubble. They heard Sir Leon’s voice. 
“My queen, the King is wondering if you have seen Merlin. He didn't wake him up and is later than usual.’’
They both looked at each other, eyes wide, realizing it had been an hour of chatting.
“He is with me, Sir Leon ! I urgently needed him for… A remedy for my aching head!’’
A moment of silence, and Leon added, “Of course, I will tell him that. Will Merlin come soon? The king seemed pretty worked up about it.’’
“I’ll be there in minutes!’’ Merlin called out, hoping he sounded convincing.
As Leon's footsteps became quieter, Gwen got up, as did Merlin who quickly went to the door, overtaken by nervousness. She stopped him.
“Merlin.’’ He turned to face her. “I am glad we had that conversation, and I wish to see more of my friend.’’
Merlin smiled, touched. He went to hug her tightly. “As do I , Gwen.’’
“Now, go and see Arthur before he actually kills someone.’’

*****************

Arthur was pacing in his room, worry taking control of his mind. Did Merlin leave? Was he with fucking Sir Jakob? Did he decide he wanted something more than being Arthur’s servant? The latter would have been legitimate. He had wanted to make Merlin more than his servant, to give him freedom and power, but he feared losing control. That was selfish, he knew that. Merlin would be a great court sorcerer, a great adviser—as he already was. But what if he decided to leave him? What if everyone saw how magnificent he was, even more than they did now? Then Merlin would be wanted by so many more. Or even worse—What if someone wanted to hurt him because of who he was? He should have taken him entirely against that rock in the river, shown him who he belonged to. Made him want to crawl to him and beg for more. His nails dug deep into his palms, his knuckles white. Arthur jumped when he heard the door open.
“I’m sorry if I am late, my lord. Well, later than usual,  I—”
He didn’t have time to finish his sentence as he felt lips on his. Arthur closed the door behind him and pinned him against it as he grabbed Merlin’s face, one hand threading the back of his dark hair. Merlin felt a pull at his hair, making him gasp for air he had again forgotten existed.

“Where were you, Merlin?” He had not meant for it to sound like an accusation, but it came out that way anyway; he couldn’t help it. He had meant to respect Merlin's request to speak with Gwen first; then again, Arthur Pendragon couldn't fucking help himself.
Merlin wanted to reach for Arthur’s lips again, but the strong grip demanded an answer. “I was with Gwen. We talked.”
“And?” Arthur rasped, tightening his hold on Merlin's hair, his eyes searching for any sign of hesitation.
Merlin brought his hand to Arthur’s cheek, calming, reassuring,  as he softly answered, “She told me. I know.”

Arthur seemed shocked at first—how fast that had gone, how honest Merlin was. Then Arthur's eyes, which had been trying to take it all in, turned into those of a predator. A smile full of hungry teeth; nothing was stopping him anymore. He devoured Merlin's lips ; biting, sucking at his tongue like he had starved for it for years— which he had. All Merlin could do was submit, take it all in, and show how needy he was too. It was wet, hot and soft, but mostly invasive. Hands worked their way under his shirt but quickly descended to his hips and ass, lifting him up against the wooden door. Merlin’s legs wrapped around Arthur’s waist. Quickly, they both felt their arousal, which made Arthur even more aggressive in the conquest of Merlin’s body.
Merlin had thought all of this would be awkward, unnatural since he had no experience. But nothing felt more right or divinely meant to be, as if he had always known exactly what to do. One hand held onto Arthur’s shoulder, while the other messed up the already ruffled blond hair of the king. When Arthur left his lips, tracing kisses along his jaw, and went directly to bite his neck, Merlin moaned and grabbed at the king's hair. Not in complaint, but as if he were begging for more and restraining himself from screaming.

For the second time in this fucked-up morning, Merlin heard a knock on the door. Maybe a curse was involved, his frustration at being interrupted deepened.
“My lord, we received a letter from King Lot.”
Arthur didn’t seem to acknowledge anything else but Merlin; he continued to suck on the warlock’s neck.
“Sire, he might hear us.”
Immediately, Arthur stopped. Who the fuck was Merlin talking about, and how could he allow someone to hear Merlin’s wanton sounds? Then, his brain realized what he had missed and he quickly constructed an answer, without even flinching:
“Wait for me in the Round Table Chamber, call the queen and all the knights.” He paused, looked at Merlin’s disheveled state, and smirked. “I'll be there in fifteen minutes.”

“Yes, my Lord.”
Arthur looked at Merlin’s flushed and shy face. He couldn't resist kissing him again as he let go of his ass, making him stand on his feet again. For the second it took to let Merlin breathe, the servant tried to regain a sense of normality, trying to protect himself in case this happened to be false hope.
“Did you eat this morning, my lord? Are you hungry?”
A cocky smile traced Arthur’s face, his voice raspy and confident; “Not anymore.”
Damn, he really did not have any escape from this. Merlin felt ashamed, realizing how much it aroused him — maybe he should have feared it.

Chapter Text

The physician’s chambers smelled of crushed herbs. Gaius was brewing a potion for Merlin; he knew the boy had trouble sleeping lately. He wanted to help however he could, sensing the turmoil in his ward’s heart. He had noticed the shift between Merlin and Arthur, and in truth, he wasn’t that surprised. Gaius always suspected that their bond could be deeper than it seemed.  He was happy for Merlin—he had seen the boy yearn for his King for years, perhaps even before Merlin himself had acknowledged it. But, Gaius was worried. He sensed a new shadow in Arthur, something he suspected the king buried far away for too long. The physician wished to sit with Merlin and talk to him, but the boy seemed lost in a fog of thoughts. 

Gaius threw the last ingredient into the cauldron and jumped as he heard a knock on his door. A man stood there, his hair so pale it was almost white, and eyes dark as a moonless night.

“Are you the court physician?’’ The stranger seemed cold, out of this world. 

Gaius lifted an eyebrow, suspicious. “Yes, I am.’’

Immediately, the man’s face softened into a smile of relief, and Gaius understood he meant no harm. His presence grew warm and cheerful.

“Thank the Triple Goddess!’’

“Who might you be young man?’’

“Forgive my manners! I am Helmar, a Druid. I was told you knew of Emrys—the one you call Merlin. I have made a long journey in the hope of finding him.’’

“Why must you find him?’’ Gaius' voice was cautious; he had many experiences of people looking for Merlin, and that didn’t always mean good. 

“I have something urgent to tell him.’’ His expression was grave. “ It concerns a prophecy involving him and the King.’’ Seeing Gaius hesitate, he added, “I assure you, I have the safety of the great Emrys at heart.’’

After looking around to see if anyone saw them, he let Helmar enter the chambers. 

*************

Merlin finally emerged from the Round Table chambers an hour later. King Lot’s response had been exactly what Arthur had hoped for; he had agreed to come to Camelot in a week’s time.  It gave Arthur and Gwen enough time to plan a perfect reception, but Merlin remained skeptical. From what he knew of the King of Essetir, this felt too easy—too good to be true. He made a mental note to discuss his suspicions with Arthur tonight.

Thinking of visiting Arthur’s chambers later that evening made him blush. After their interrupted kiss that morning, the King hadn’t exactly settled down. On the way to the meeting, Arthur had kept his arm draped over Merlin’s shoulders, which was a common thing among friends, just enough to be surprising for the servants or guards passing by, but not enough for it to be totally inappropriate. Throughout the entire meeting, Arthur’s eyes had lingered on him. He felt the burn of Arthur’s eyes on his throat as he served him, sensing the urge of the king to touch him lightly without reason. Maybe it had always been there, but Merlin was only just starting to notice, and his clumsiness was at its peak. It was even more nerve-wracking knowing that Gwen was there. 

For the rest of the day, Merlin threw himself into his duties: polishing armor (with a heavy assist from magic), coordinating the staff, and snatching scraps of food in the kitchens. He didn’t see Arthur; the King was buried in meetings with advisors, desperate to learn everything there was to know about King Lot. By the time Merlin finished, he had only an hour before serving the King’s dinner. The sky had started to darken into a bruised purple. All Merlin wanted was to retreat to his room, crawl under his bedsheets, and deny his responsibilities for at least five minutes.

That hope was cut short the moment he opened the door to the physician's chambers. A stranger was sitting with Gaius, chatting casually, but they both stopped the second Merlin entered.

“Merlin!” Gaius stood up slowly. “This is—”

Before he could finish, Helmar was on his knees. “Helmar. It is an honor to finally meet you, Emrys.”

Merlin’s cheeks heated. He always felt a wave of shy discomfort at that kind of gesture. He didn’t feel better than anyone else; he certainly didn’t feel like he was the one they should bow to. “Please, rise.”

Helmar stood and took a moment to truly look at the greatest sorcerer of all time. Emrys was much younger than he had expected, perhaps only a year or two older than Helmar himself. His hair was as dark as night, slightly long, in a way that was common among the Druids. He had a striking, particular face. It wasn't displeasing; quite the contrary. Beneath that lean figure, Helmar could sense a strong well of power. But then, something shifted within Helmar. He had expected to be intimidated and impressed—which he was—but he had not expected to find himself mesmerized. 

Merlin realized that his moment alone was not to be. “What is it you seek of me by coming here?”

Helmar took two steps forward, advancing toward Merlin. “I was tasked to understand the shift of the universe—the way the prophecy changed the moment you brought King Arthur back from the dead. As you must know, I cannot give you a direct answer. Some things change when named and the Crystal cave didn’t let me see or feel everything."

Merlin couldn't help but exhale, hand to his temple. He thought he was done with it all. Arthur had returned from the veil of death; he was the Great King destined to unite Albion. What more could the universe possibly demand?  “And what does that… revelation.. tell you?’’ 

Helmar explained how the Druids felt a shift when Arthur came back from death, and why he had decided to visit the Crystal Cave. “The prophecy changed. Or rather, it did not—it was this one all along, and we were blind to it.’’

“What do you know, tell me.’’ Merlin was nervous, but he reached for a quick, commanding tone. 

“By dying, Arthur crossed a veil and touched a part of him that was deeply sealed. That is what the prophecy is truly about: his doom, or his greatest strength.’’

Merlin's heart was hammering. He took a seat at the table, and Helmar and Gaius followed him and lit a candle. Merlin frowned while looking at the flame. Helmar, seeing his confusion, asked; “Tell me Emrys, when you think of the night, what comes to mind?’’

“I’m not sure I understand. And please, I beg you, stop speaking in riddles.’’ Merlin looked done.

Helmar smiled fondly at the warlock. “Deepest desire, every craving, hidden shadows; they all gripped his soul as he came back. This is his punishment for a borrowed life, Emrys. He now must stare at the abyss, and the abyss looks back at him.’’

Gaius spoke to Merlin’s rescue. “What does that mean? It sounds entirely cryptic.’’

No shit, Merlin thought, desperate. 

Helmar looked directly at Merlin, understanding that he had to be more direct “ ’As much as you can help him bring peace to the realm, you can also trigger the darkest part of him. Should you be torn from his side, he will retaliate in the worst way possible. Pull away, and he will burn trying to master the storm within him. Stay close, and he will always crave more, beyond reason.’’

“That is not...Arthur. It is not who he is. He is good, fair, always putting his people first.“ Merlin stammered, shaking his head. 

“It is, as much as it isn’t.’’ Helmar's voice was soft, surprised at the vulnerability of the great warlock. “The fair king is still there, and though his heart is fierce, he has just discovered the depths of himself. You are more than the other side of a coin. Destiny may have had a role in your bond, Emrys, but the two of you chose the shape it took. And this… visceral bond, all those emotions that come from it — they no longer whisper. They demand to be felt, and that intensity feeds something in him like fuel.’’

Merlin struggled to find air. It felt surreal, impossible. His skin was tingling, magic and shock taking hold. With a soft voice and eyes staring down, Merlin dared to finally whisper, “How is it… that it feels like a punishment for me also?’’

“A life for a life. Destiny could not take either of yours. The gods took away a blessing as they offered you a gift by stripping away your blinders.’’ 

Panic flared in Merlin's chest.“What did I do wrong?! What did I mess up?’’

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, my boy. You did good; you did your best. I’m sure you did nothing wrong,” said Gaius, caring, then shooting a look at Helmar, hoping he would back him up.

Helmar reached out, touching Merlin's arm firmly. “You did nothing wrong. It was always meant to be. Until now, we all missed a piece of the prophecy. You know when you hear a melody and it sounds beautiful, but once the missing note takes place, you finally understand how perfect it is?’’

“It feels like a nightmare.’’ Merlin whispered, words tasting like ash. He had trouble hearing and understanding all the words the druid said, as if they were far away. 

“Nightmares are meaningful—the truth of our hurt and the path to our tainted souls. They are raw. Unfiltered.’’ Helmar added, slowly, “So now, try to answer me Emrys: when you think of the night, of yourself and the king, what do you see?’’

Merlin’s anxious thoughts went quiet. His mind went blank, guided only by raw emotion. “The stars are out…’’ he whispered, sounding far away, as if dreaming. “We are.. alive in the night. Blooming as we trust our meeting under the sky. It may be frightening, but also magnificent.’’*

“Yes, Emrys. It can be beautiful, powerful, but you have to believe and never stop being what lights up the sky. You can either both fall, or rise even stronger than was ever thought. He is to Albion the greatest strength ever seen in a king, but you are the one who balances it all. You are Arthur’s anchor.’’

This was easily one of the most confusing days of Merlin’s life—first the conversation with Gwen, and now this. It was all too much to process. It still felt like a riddle, and his head was spinning. Suddenly, he jumped to his feet, his chair scraping against the floor.

“I need to go.”

“Where?” Gaius asked, startled.

“The forest. Anywhere. It’s too much,” Merlin said, his breath coming in short. “I just want an hour of peace and quiet.”

“What must I tell Arthur?’’

For the first time in his life, Merlin sounded truly desperate as he suggested the oldest lie in his repertoire. “The tavern?’’

“He’ll know it’s a lie, Merlin. It isn’t like before“ Gaius warned.

The warlock felt overwhelmed; he needed to breathe air that didn't smell of prophecy, boiling herbs or duty. “Then I’ll deal with the consequences. As always.”

“The consequences are different now, Emrys. They are bare of any filter.“ Helmar reminded him, voice low

“I don’t care.’’Merlin whispered to himself, as he reached the door and fled.

*********

Merlin didn't know how much time he had spent staring at the sun setting behind the green of the trees, the moon taking its place. He threw a few magic tricks into the air, creating glowing shapes of wolves and deer that danced in front of him. Magic was allowed now, yet he still felt a lingering fear. He missed the symbiosis of it as he didn’t do much in the past weeks. It was as if he were waiting for permission,  fearing he could lose Arthur for good. 

Resting in the softness of the moss, half the time he spent simply emptying his mind, letting nature connect with his senses. The other half he spent trying to understand the madness of the past weeks. 

On one hand, Gwen claimed Arthur wanted him. On the other hand, Helmar warned that Arthur could lose himself and the realm in that want. Arthur isn’t dark; he’s not so intensely focused on me like Helmar insinuated, Merlin thought. He was just… Arthur.

Flashes from the past came flooding back; He remembered Arthur surprising him with the guards, choking him against the stone wall—holding the grip a second too long for it to be mere suspicion. The memories piled up, shaped with a new vision. He remembered Arthur’s confession about Gwen years ago, how he had said he and she could never happen, yet he had hoped he was talking about Merlin. His urge to know if he wanted a woman when he saw Merlin hide flowers. Arthur coming to Ealdor, the warmth of them sleeping way to close on quests. Their first encounter when he asked Merlin if he knew how to walk on his knees. The echoes of him losing his mind to Agravaine when he couldn't find him. When Arthur gave him his mother’s sigil. The looks, the touches, the sacrifices… how he had always come back for him, chosen him. But Merlin also saw his own hurt; all those times Arthur had insulted him, rejected him or reminded him he was beneath him. 

Again, it was so much to bear. Maybe he just needed to let go and take responsibility for whatever came up. Merlin wasn’t just a shadow anymore. Was he ready for that? As he wrestled with the truth, Merlin felt his eyes grow heavy. Exhausted by the intense emotions, he looked at the sky as sleep claimed him, a deep rest like he had long missed. The night really did feel beautiful under the stars and moonlight—not scary or lonely, but unique.

*************

The King burst into the physician’s chambers, hesitating between angry or worried after waiting almost an hour for his servant to come. He could have sent a servant or a guard to summon Merlin, but he wasn't thinking clearly. He needed to feel Merlin’s presence within his reach again and find the proper punishment. When he threw open the door, he saw neither Merlin nor Gaius. He found a man with white hair, ancient looking but with a young face. 

“Where is Merlin?’’ he demanded. 

“Resting.’’ Helmar remained calm, speaking with a familiarity that annoyed the hell out of the king who stepped further into the chambers.

“And who might you be?’’ The eyes of the king were suspicious, his tone arrogant.

“A friend of Emrys,’’ said Helmar, calm, knowing why and what he was facing. That wouldn't stop him from being himself. The king didn’t need pampering.

“That name again.’’ Arthur scoffed, but hurt lingered behind it, like so many knew a side of Merlin he didn’t. “Tell me where he is.’’

Gaius emerged from his room. “He went to the forest, my lord. He needed space.’’

“Space from what? From whom?’’ He was imperious, shaken, and provoked.

Gaius remained quiet; he did not know what he could say to ease the king. 

“So no tavern as an excuse?’’Arthur let out a bitter laugh, untrusting. 

“He should be back soon enough.’’ Gaius reassured. 

Calmly, hoping for a direct answer, the king asked: “Who is this man Gaius, really, what does he want?’’

“A druid, he came to see Merlin.’’

“Why?’’

Helmar approached him. “That is for Emrys to say. I owe no explanation for seeking him out.’’

“You actually do.’’ He was now closer to the druid, dominating him with his presence “I am the king, and he is my servant.’’

“He is much more. The light to your reign, the soul of your strength; the most powerful sorcerer that you seem intent on keeping at your will, as a servant.’’

Then again, Arthur was reminded of the role Merlin had in his life, how it changed him and his path. Like he wasn’t thinking about that every hour—how stupidly blind and ungrateful he had been. He didn’t know what to do with it. His aura shifted, more menacing, as his voice lowered as a warning. “Do not assume I ignore Merlin’s worth,’’ 

Arthur turned to Gaius, sounding defeated as he sensed the seriousness of the situation, but unbelieving that he was letting Merlin slip away like this. “Tell him to come to me the moment he returns. If he is not back within the hour, I will fetch him myself.’’

“So will I.’’ Helmar added firmly, like a vow for the great warlock. 

Arthur resisted the urge to turn back and land a solid punch on the Druid’s face, or throw him in the dungeons. But he had no excuse for it to be fair, so he stormed out the door, but was immediately faced with his desire.

Merlin stopped short as he bumped into Arthur and immediately met his piercing gaze. 

“Merlin!’’ Relief shot through his voice, but he was quickly reminded of the situation. Hands on his hips, he gave a look of defiance. “Can you tell me why I am missing my dinner, and where were you?’’ 

“I-’’ Arthur stopped him.

“Don’t say the tavern. I’m sure your real explanation involves the druid hanging out in your chambers.’’

“Can I talk to you about that later? Alone’’ Merlin pleaded. 

“Don’t forget you are my servant Merlin,  I say when we talk.’’ Arthur sounded playful for a second, always refreshed by Merlin's boldness and complete disregard of their titles. But then he saw Merlin look past his shoulder, eyes on Helmar. Arthur took Merlin’s jaw in his hand, guiding his face back to his, grip firmer than he intended; “Don’t look at him, look at me, Merlin’’

Merlin withdrew from the burning grip, as aroused as he was humiliated. “Arthur, can you stop being a prat and let me serve you dinner. I know I am late, and I will tell you all about it while you eat your delicious meal.’’

Arthur turned around to look at the druid and Gaius, a defiant, proud, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You know what Merlin,’’ he turned back, sliding his hand from Merlin’s jaw to the back of his neck, “I am in fact, starving.’’ The king began to leave, steering Merlin along with him, as Gaius and Helmar looked at each other with concern at the clear message Arthur was sending.

Chapter Text

Once in the King’s chambers, Merlin immediately asked, “Can I go and fetch your meal now?” hoping to buy himself some time to find a way to explain what he had just learned. 

Arthur slowly went to sit at his desk, a smile on his face as if he were preparing something. “I already ate.” With his arms crossed, he looked at Merlin as he tilted his head.

The servant stepped further into the room, the light of the fire the only thing illuminating it. “Then why did you say you were hungry?”

Merlin’s obliviousness made Arthur feel as if he were stepping into unknown territory, but he was still the predator in it. He sighed, containing the fire within him to touch Merlin, as he knew he needed to clarify who that druid was. Yes, magic was legal, but it was the first time he had faced a magic user since the change in the law. It was even more intriguing that the man was in Gaius’s chambers, searching for Merlin. Would Merlin tell him the truth, or lie again like he had in the past?

“I want you to tell me, honestly, who that Druid was and why he sought you.” Arthur’s voice could have seemed calm and confident, but Merlin saw beneath it. The King was worried. 

Merlin hesitated, unsure where to place himself in the room. Arthur gestured to a chair not far from him, almost by his side at the desk.

Merlin frowned, confused. “That is new.”

“Yes, Merlin, good observation.” The warlock could practically feel the eyeroll, even if the King didn't actually do it. 

Arthur shed his arrogance, placed a hand to his temple, and, looking down, admitted, “I just… I think I don’t want you to feel beneath me anymore.’’ Well, not in that way, Arthur thought, but stopped himself from going further in his imagination. ‘’You never really were—always writing speeches for me, advising me with honesty, and protecting me without my knowledge… What I want to say is, sit with me and talk to me. Don’t hide.”

Merlin was taken aback by that confession; it seemed as if every day lately had been a dream, like Arthur was beginning to really see him whole. He thought about Helmar, how raw he said Arthur could be now. He feared Arthur no longer being himself, losing his core fairness. But this felt like him, just deeper, unfolded. So the warlock sat at Arthur’s side, his chair about three feet away. The King reached down, grabbed the leg of the chair, and pulled Merlin closer as if it were nothing. They were now facing each other. Startled at first, Merlin slowly settled into the reality of the situation. He lifted his blue irises to Arthur’s, trying to look at ease, but Merlin was shaking inside. It was the first time he could share this part of his life—not tales of what had happened in the past, but what was going on in the present. He could actually talk about this with Arthur, stopping those unbearable lies in the future. As liberating as it sounded, it was also terrifying. Merlin felt the need to be careful; after all, that's what he had always done.

“He… wanted to tell me about the prophecy. Our prophecy,” Merlin began.

“The one about us being two sides of the same coin? Me being the King to unite Albion and you the sorcerer helping me do it?”

“Warlock... but yes... I learned that they thought you were supposed to die, sire, in the prophecy that some Druids knew, and Kilgharrah knew. I didn’t know about it. But now, Helmar sought to know why it did not happen. And the Druids, the dragon… they got it wrong. You coming back is just the beginning. It can either go really badly, or not.”

“Why didn’t you know about it?’’

“It’s the way it is; we cannot stop destiny. Telling too much can break the natural course of things. Trying could have had irreparable consequences.’’

“Would you have still tried, knowing that I was going to die?’’

Merlin felt his throat tighten, thinking back to Arthur’s inert body in his arms. “Destiny or not, I cannot bear the idea of you dying. I think this is exactly why I knew so little.’’ What would he have done if he had really died? He really did try not to think about it too much. 

The King smiled at the loyalty, even stronger than the will of the gods. He felt himself calm down a bit, then saw Merlin’s pained expression. All he wanted to do was comfort Merlin, remembering he was here alive. “Hey, I’m here.’’ He put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly before reluctantly letting go

“Yeah, of course, sorry.’’ The warlock composed himself, and Arthur tried his best to chase the sadness from Merlin’s eyes, changing the subject.

“So, what makes it shift? The thing about it going great or bad.”

Merlin bit his lips, guilt coursing through his gut. “From what I understood… our emotions.”

That was quite an unexpected answer. “What does that mean?’’ 

“Since you came back, apparently, you have discovered another part of yourself. It can make you your greatest strength or your greatest darkness, and that depends on us. I don’t quite understand enough yet to tell you more. I beg you to allow me to wait until I understand it better to share it with you. For now, it’s just a blur, and I don’t want to tell you lies.”

Arthur looked away. “Emotions…” His voice was faltering. “We’re not girls.” The attempt at joking felt like a silent cry.

“My lord. Please, I will tell you more when I myself have made sense of it all.”

“Will you?” His tone was soft, but doubting.

“I would do anything to prove myself worthy again and again. Now that you know of my identity, I have no reason to lie anymore. Death or not, I have nothing left to hide.”

The King's expression was smug, trying to hide anything else deep in him. “Well, I look forward to seeing that.”

The servant swallowed and dared to ask, carefully, “Do you have any idea of what part of yourself you discovered?”

Arthur leaned back in his chair to hide how uneasy that question made him feel. He thought about how he always treated Merlin like more than a servant, how he was always shaken by his sense of duty to him. All those times he saw Merlin vulnerable and ached to know more, to comfort him, but hid it the best he could so as not to cross something he didn’t even know at the time. The emptiness he felt when Merlin was gone, the fullness of his laugh, the way he always lingered in the back of his head no matter where he was or who he was with. How Merlin probably had a role in who he was now, and all those times he had actually protected Arthur, even if at the time he didn’t believe it. He looked at Merlin’s lips, thinking of how many times he had done just that but brushed it off. How titles like Prince or King, servant or warlock, all seemed to be forgotten and relieved of burdens, leaving them to just be, right now, with each other. How could Arthur not move towards Merlin to stroke his thumb gently on his chin? As he did, all he could whisper was: “No...”

Merlin’s lips were parted, his expression dazed as if he had just drunk too much mead, when in reality, he felt drunk just from looking at Arthur’s open shirt and the touch of his fingers radiating on his skin, taking in the thick lust in the room. He could crumble under any demand from Arthur, and he didn’t even register the King’s answer. Their eyes met, heavy with meaning and emotion; their expressions were a silent clash of anticipation and demand.

When he looks at me like that, what does he expect?* Arthur thought as he went in to kiss him softly. It was not aggressive, not dominating like before. It felt like a silent admission of words he couldn’t say. A confession in silence of the burning emotions within him, begging for Merlin to know, but to wait for more. That gentleness made Merlin's heart break in surrender. He realized that his King could have his hands around his neck, and he would still adore him.* For everything he did right, but also understanding why sometimes he did wrong. All the warlock could do was kiss him back desperately, moving his lips to taste as much as he could, discovering his King slowly for once. A hand was then on his thigh, sending chills of want through him, and Merlin dared to put his hand to the back of the King’s hair. Arthur’s hand slid to grab his waist, guiding him out of his chair and onto his lap. Merlin straddled him and felt Arthur’s fingers, rough under his shirt as he touched the small of his back, one hand making its way to his shoulder blade, clenching their bodies together as one. It was not just about passion or arousal; it spoke of years of denial and need, of admissions too peculiar to express and feelings too complex to put into words. The kiss grew more heated, as they were both trying to enter each other's world. Merlin was messing up Arthur’s hair, as the King dug his fingernails into the pale of his skin. Their breath grew faster, needing more than oxygen. Hell, air felt secondary to them, unnatural compared to the hum of their souls. If only values and duties did not exist, they both could be content with shudders of longing.

Arthur stood up, taking Merlin with him as he made his way to the bed as if it were nothing. All Merlin could do was hold onto his hips with his legs, but he honestly didn’t even realize what had exactly happened, as he couldn’t stop tasting his King's lips. He was reduced to moaning in surprise at the shift, and then again when Arthur placed them on the bed.

Arthur withdrew from the kiss, to look at Merlin, whose eyes were half-closed and slightly golden, the King’s arms caging him. “Longer hair suits you.’’ He carefully brushed his fingers through it, as if he were afraid to erase the warlock with his touch, the dream becoming a nightmare. He then tugged it slightly.  “And I now have another way to pull you apart.”

Arthur went back to kiss him, and Merlin felt their erections rub against each other. He wished he had the guts to touch them both, but he was so far out of his territory, inexperienced and unsure of what he had permission to do. He still couldn’t stop his moans, and neither could Arthur. The servant wrapped his arms around Arthur’s back, forgetting his place as always, and the King didn’t even want to put him back in it.

Instead, Arthur finally grabbed Merlin’s cock, fabric separating skin from skin. Merlin withdrew from Arthur's back and stopped him. “Don’t cross a bridge you’ll regret, my lord.” 

Arthur took Merlin’s hands, pinned them to the bed above his head, and smiled, the usual cockiness in his voice. “The only regret would be not to cross it.” He went to Merlin’s ear and murmured, “Unless you tell me you don’t want it. Then I will stop right away.”

Merlin shook his head. 

“Would telling you that you’re still useless and clumsy help you accept the fact that I want you, Merlin?” At first, it was more like a joke, mocking. But heat started to grow in Merlin’s cheeks as he averted his eyes.

Amused, the King said, “Wait, do you actually like that?”

“Of course not!” His cheeks were now red, and Arthur felt him try to withdraw from his grasp.

The blond's mouth was now almost touching Merlin’s. “Liar.”

Arthur devoured his lips, one hand still pinning Merlin’s wrists as the other went down. He got both of their cocks out, sharing heat. God, he just wanted to feel Merlin, or maybe taste even more parts of his servant. To plunge himself into him and never leave, like he should have done years ago. But now, he felt he needed to take it slow so as not to scare the likely virgin warlock. The King felt a surge of desire, exhilarated at being able to touch Merlin like he had always wanted, offering him his first experience. Was it? Had anyone had the audacity to touch Merlin before him?

“Did you do this with anyone else, Merlin?”

Merlin struggled to answer, shaking from the inside and totally overwhelmed by the sensation of the weight of Arthur on him. He was totally at a loss. “N-no.”

“Nothing more?”

“No, please.” He didn’t even know what exactly he was begging for.

“Perfect.” Arthur looked down, hungry for more, craving the contact with his servant’s body, his mouth nearly watering at the thought. He couldn’t help but put him in his place a bit more, shadowing his intense need to ravish him. “As I am perfectly bigger than you. Even down there.”

That was enough to make Merlin return to half of his senses. “You’re an arse… and you do know now that I could actually take you apart with one blow.”

“But you won’t. You can’t.”

“I won’t,” Merlin confessed helplessly. And deeply, Merlin knew that even if he could, he actually wouldn’t ever.

“And I cannot wait for you to show me how exactly you can take me apart with one… blow.”

Arthur relished in Merlin’s shocked reaction of pure shame and arousal and didn’t even leave him time to speak. “But for now, shut up and let me touch you.” He went back to kiss him, lips warm and wet, and then stopped to spit into his own free hand, not wanting to let go of the grasp he had on Merlin with the other. Arthur slowly stroked both of their hardness together, burying his face in Merlin’s neck, light kisses sending waves of magic through the warlock’s body. All he could do was moan Arthur’s name.

As the King heard this, he stroked them faster, wanting to hear it even more, at least once more. “Again.”

“Arthur…”

The King sucked on Merlin’s neck, like water that could quench a thirst. Nothing could; it only grew. He put his head against Merlin’s forehead, absorbing his lovely expression. That was probably one of the few times "lovely" came to Arthur’s mind. Not only beautiful nor breathtaking, but something that made his heart ache and break in the most blissful ways. And that expression was only for him to see. Ever. 

‘’Fuck, Merlin.” He let go of his grasp on Merlin's hands to grab his neck, the weight of his palm pressing against his throat. Finally free, Merlin's hands went to Arthur’s shoulders, involuntarily digging his nails into his King’s skin as he struggled to breathe. He felt the orgasm coming, every tingle even stronger—a rapture he didn’t even know was possible, like he was finally exactly where he needed to be. Merlin came seconds before Arthur. 

The King collapsed onto Merlin as he let go of his throat, uncaring of the stickiness of their fluids—maybe even rejoicing in it, as Merlin was now even more claimed. Arthur’s weight was almost crushing the warlock, but they both didn’t care; if they could, they would have merged themselves to be forever one. Merlin slowly started to stroke Arthur’s back, while his other hand went to his hair, which made the King almost purr in satisfaction. Somehow, it didn’t surprise the servant that Arthur had such a soft side even in bed, it was quite reassuring…

Bed. They were in bed. Together. After something very intimate. After the biggest bridge of all had been crossed and collapsed behind them. Unease crept into Merlin’s chest. Should he go? Did Arthur now regret it? Did he see how bony and unattractive Merlin was? Merlin panicked as he stopped his movements, hoping maybe he would disappear. Should he use magic to make himself invisible? Could he even do that?

As for Arthur, well he was just enjoying Merlin’s beauty being trapped under him. 

“My lord, should I draw you a bath to clean all of this… or maybe go?”

Arthur frowned, combating sleep, almost snuggling into Merlin’s collarbone. “Can’t you do a spell to clean us both?”

“You… want me to do that?”

“Merlin, I’m tired.”

Merlin hesitated a second but did it anyway. The golden flash of his eyes left them both clean and dry.

“Perfect. Now you can go.”

Merlin bit his lip, so as not to appear too affected. He should have expected this; he had even suggested it himself because he knew it was coming. “Then can you move your fat body away so I can?”

“I am not fat, Merlin,” he grumbled, and then found the strength to push himself up slightly to cradle the warlock’s jaw and kiss him. “And I am kidding. Stay here and sleep.” Arthur knew it was unusual—another fucking scary bridge. But he couldn’t bring himself to tell him to leave. Just thinking about it made his stomach sink, like it was the wrong thing to do, like he would be just taking advantage.

Merlin smiled, quickly stopping himself so as not to give the King the satisfaction of knowing he was pleased. Then one important matter came back to him. “But I need to talk to you about King Lot.”

“Tomorrow…” He met Merlin’s lips again and bit him hard enough to draw blood. “And please, never mention another person’s name in bed again, or I’ll cut your tongue out so mine will be the last on it.” Half of it was true.

Merlin went to touch his bloody lip. ‘’Ouch… Then can you actually move? I’m going to die under you.’’

“You’re so frail.” Arthur rolled over, and threw back the sheets to get under the covers, and invited Merlin to do the same. Merlin did, but he stayed almost at the edge of the bed, like he was hiding from existence itself. 

“Merlin. I know this is… I don’t have the words… but could you at least not look like you’re trying to escape me? How will you sleep like that? I need my servant in good shape tomorrow.”

“It’s just… I’ve never slept in anyone’s bed before. Let alone a royal one.” He turned to face Arthur but didn’t dare to look at him. “I don’t know what to do.”

Adorable. Arthur laughed a bit and pulled him closer by grabbing his slim waist until Merlin was almost resting on his chest.

“Now you do. So… sleep.” 

Merlin could have retaliated against the order, but the warmth of Arthur’s skin was just unbelievably soothing and sleep quickly claimed both of them.      

Chapter Text

Merlin was luckily the first to wake; now he had an excuse to go fetch the King’s breakfast and avoid panicking over what had happened last night. His head was on Arthur’s chest. He felt a hand under him, sleepily resting against his hip, looking as though it belonged there. 

Of course, he had heard of how two men could be intimate—mostly from Gwaine, but also from men in his village when he was younger. Never had he imagined he would experience this himself, nor that he could find so much pleasure in it. It wasn't that Merlin ignored his attraction to men; he simply knew he didn’t want to put labels on who he liked. But, with his devotion to Arthur, he hadn’t had much time to explore his sexuality, let alone hope to be bedded by his king. Part of him couldn’t believe he had let that idiot manhandle him to bed and take him apart; he always seemed to fold lately whenever Arthur made a move to be intimate. 

For a minute, Merlin looked up at Arthur; his face was devoid of worries, lost in peaceful sleep. He wondered if Arthur ever dreamed; if so, he wished a spell could make him join him in them, safe from everything. 

Merlin could hardly believe he was awake. For so long, he had joined the King only to wake him up, when deep down—even if he always brushed it off—he wanted to wake by his side, to share the small moments of their lives. And now, this morning, not only did he have that, but Arthur was beginning to truly know him.

He was as scared as he was relieved. Merlin didn’t want to mess it up; he didn’t want Arthur to change his mind and ask him to leave. He had to prove himself worthy. He could have looked at the relaxed face of his king for hours, lightly bathed in the morning sunlight. But, it was a moment that felt borrowed. Now he just had to go back to being Arthur’s servant: casual, detached, in the shadows. Nothing indicated he had the right to rest here in the morning as if it were his place. He knew his place was at Arthur’s side, but like this, he felt like he didn’t deserve it—like an impostor. Even more so because Arthur was married to his friend. The King had surely only told him to sleep here for convenience last night, right? So Merlin slowly slipped out from under the covers, put on his shoes, and went out the door, taking one last look at Arthur; engraving the memory in his mind to cherish later. He couldn’t believe he’d let himself fall for him so deeply that memories were enough to keep him going; Merlin felt stupid for loving such a self-righteous prat.

*************

The King woke up, memories of last night rushing through him. Yet, there was no weight on his hand, no heat beside him. His eyes snapped open.

“Merlin?”

Did he leave during the night? Damn himself for being such a heavy sleeper. He rushed out of bed, ready to storm out of his room half-naked if he had to, to go find him. A voice of reason stopped him at the door. What if he had lost too much control last night, even if he had only done a fraction of what he wanted? Maybe he went too fast, letting his boiling emotions get the better of him even though he tried so hard to restrain them. It was legitimate for Merlin to have left. For years he had been his servant, and now… Arthur didn’t even know. It was more; it had always been more. And he craved it to deepen—one taste wasn’t enough—but perhaps too much would make him lose him forever? A sickening fear crawled up his throat, a stone settling in his gut as his fist tightly clenched. He had asked for so much without giving what was right. He hit the door once in surrender before putting a shirt on and going back to bed, hoping Merlin would still bring him breakfast.

 ***************

“Rise and—”

Merlin stopped himself as he saw the King sitting in his bed, arms crossed. He quickly closed the door and set the breakfast on the table.

“You’re awake! I think we should mark this day as one of improvement.” With a wide smile, he turned to Arthur, whose expression did not change.

“Where were you?” Given Arthur’s brooding expression, Merlin expected a reprimanding tone, but his voice was surprisingly low and rough.

“I brought you breakfast, like always.” It took all of Merlin’s control to maintain his composure, carry on with his usual cheerfulness, and not blush at the memories of last night. In the worst-case scenario, he would end up with an arousal right then and there if his thoughts didn't stop.

Arthur didn’t dare meet his gaze; he continued to stare blankly at the bedroom door. Seconds passed. “I understand.” 

Arthur sat up and placed his feet on the cold floor. He moved mechanically toward his breakfast and took a seat. After one bite, he nonchalantly pointed to the chair beside him. Merlin sat down; both were back in the same position where everything had spiraled last night.

Arthur didn't linger on the moment and maintained a tone full of nobility and status. “You had something to tell me about King Lot, didn’t you?”

Duties called for both of them again. They caught glimpses of each other—glacier blue meeting ocean deep. Arthur could see Merlin’s pulse thrumming in his neck just as Merlin felt the King's presence overwhelming him. Merlin took it upon himself to breathe and relax, then started to talk. He spoke of what he knew of King Lot, and how it seemed like a trap that he had agreed to this peace offering so easily. He shared tales of Lot’s cruelty, heard from druids or peasants he had met on quests when Arthur wasn't even aware. Apparently, it was true that this tyrannical king enjoyed beheading his enemies and mounting them on wooden spikes in front of his castle. He neither listened to his people nor showed them any generosity, magic or not. The nobles held all the control and cared little for the rest. Of course, Arthur had already heard rumors of King Lot’s cruelty, but Merlin’s words strengthened them even more. It would be foolish to ignore the possibility that he was planning something.

“Arthur, I see that your intention is peace, but how do you plan to make peace with someone who is fundamentally your opposite? Could you live with the fact that a sadistic ally treats his people in such a way?”

“That’s why I need to do something. I need to at least try to form an alliance that helps the people of his kingdom.”

Merlin’s heart softened at Arthur’s heart of gold, a reminder of one of the many reasons why love had seeped into Merlin over so many years. 

However, he remained worried and had a need to understand better. “And what if he doesn't change how he rules? What can you offer him?”

“Well, an alliance will put both of our kingdoms in a wealthier position, as the Council said. And if he is an ally, it can open doors for other kingdoms to do the same, which would also benefit him. If it goes wrong… I cannot in good conscience abandon those people and continue to live a privileged life while a tyrant offers them less than survival.”

He didn’t even question that Arthur was taking Ealdor into account—Merlin’s hometown, where his mother still lived. 

Before realizing what he was doing, Merlin placed his hand gently on Arthur’s shoulder, close enough to his neck for his thumb to lightly brush the skin. Arthur looked up at this simple gesture, which carried so much weight in his eyes. Perhaps he hadn’t gone too far after all. “You are a brave and good king. I will serve and protect you, as always.”

Arthur covered Merlin’s hand with his own, then moved it as if handling fine porcelain. He pressed his lips to the inside of Merlin’s pale wrist, stroking his palm, never breaking eye contact. Once again, he had let himself be carried away despite his best intentions to contain everything screaming to emerge. He kissed the skin, closed his eyes and whispered softly against it, “I know.’’

In a way, anyone watching the scene would have felt that Arthur, too, was swearing an oath. For both of them, this moment was like the first time you see the perseids; feeling so small yet so complete. 

Like a lost sailor in the infinite ocean who finally spots land; Arthur wanted so badly to cling to it, to reach. He feared he might burn, and in doing so, destroy the beauty of it. It was with neither ease nor desire that he eventually pulled away from Merlin’s, even if he wanted to demand more. 

Merlin felt the warm lips and rough touch leave his skin—a loss that felt tragic every time, both their hearts hunting for more.* 

Arthur seemed to debate something in his mind, hesitating before daring to say; “I am sorry if last night was too much.”

“It was not,” Merlin replied, far too quickly.

“Are you sure?”

“Arthur, I have always told you when I didn’t agree with something you did. Why would that change?” Merlin felt his heart in the grip of change, unable to understand why he would ever stop standing his ground. Then, he remembered all those times he had simply complied. But it was not only because Arthur asked it of him; deep down, in the very core of his being, he wanted it too.

Arthur seemed to search for his words, caught in an internal dilemma between what he wanted to say and his fear of being too vulnerable—of losing something he couldn't quite put his finger on. “Since I came back, sometimes I feel caught between heaven and hell.* Doubting everything. I don’t want to choose the wrong side.’’

Merlin couldn’t help but smile slightly, a flash of pride piercing through his gaze. “That is exactly what makes you right.’’

Arthur nodded and exhaled; he still doubted his actions. After all, Merlin accepted his advances, but Merlin himself expressed very little first, outside of his loyalty. The air between them held the words long after they faded. Arthur stood up slowly and paced the room before adopting a firm tone. 

“I would like you to participate in the decisions over the next few days. Not only as my servant advising me quietly, but as a warlock—as Merlin. With the new law, we need someone who understands magic, and I wouldn’t trust anyone else. Essetir permits magic, so it is all the more appropriate that you help.”

Merlin knew he was changing the subject. He let him. “Trusting me as a warlock didn’t seem to be on your mind lately.”

“I’m not saying it’s definite.”

Merlin felt confident enough once more to let a hint of mockery slip through. “So, either you’re very afraid of King Lot, or you’re testing me.”

Arthur gasped, shocked by the accusation of weakness. “I am not afraid!”

“If you say so.” Merlin raised his hands in defeat and gave a smirk before adding, “I heard he doesn't have a warrior’s build. At least you don’t have to worry about him being thinner than you.”

“Merlin! Stop insinuating that I am fat!”

“Well, I did feel crushed under you last night.”

“Merlin.” His look was a warning, but a second later, they both burst into laughter at the ridiculous situation, which softened every other emotion lingering in the room.

When Merlin caught his breath, he asked more seriously, “So, you want to test me? See if you can trust me with more responsibility?”

“I want to trust you. And I truly believe you can help.” 

“But where does that leave me? Am I your servant, your advisor, or your warlock? What exactly are my duties?” Merlin needed to know where he stood.

“I cannot completely change your role overnight; it might be too much for the resistant nobles. I still want you to wake me in the morning and bring me my meals. I want you to accompany me on hunts or missions with the knights. Perhaps some of your other tasks can be set aside.”

“So, I no longer need to wash your clothes, polish your armor, or dress you in the morning?” Merlin’s eyes shone with hope.

“No. But since you’ll be the one bringing me my breakfast—and yours too—if I were to need help getting dressed, which is not the case, I might ask you.”

Merlin nodded, a bit too thrilled by the news. Arthur added, hiding a smile, “Besides, George is much more talented at those other tasks.”

Merlin tutted, holding back a smile of his own. “Obviously.”

As King, Arthur needed to prepare his knights and warriors for any eventuality. The next few days were going to be busy. He now had an excuse to occupy himself and try not to think about anyone—or anything—else beyond that. However, one last question, one the King knew was ridiculous but had been nagging at him for days, distracted him immensely.

“Why aren't you wearing a neckerchief anymore?”

Merlin frowned; he found the question strange and out of nowhere. “I guess... I don’t feel like I need to hide as much anymore.”

“If you are to take your place by my side, I need you to look a bit more distinguished. People have to understand your place.”

“What do you mean?”

“Go see Gwen. She’ll help.”

“She knows?”

“Of course she knows about my intention to give you higher responsibilities; she’s the Queen. She loved the idea. In fact, she was relieved that I finally proposed it—she felt it was long overdue.”

Yes, Gwen knew that Arthur intended for Merlin to eventually become the Court Warlock, but it wasn't necessary to disclose that title just yet. After all, Arthur still felt slightly on his guard. Moreover, the mere thought of opening his eyes in the morning and having them land on anyone other than Merlin repulsed him. He needed an excuse to justify this routine.

Tucked away in the cave of his mind; he hoped that one day Merlin would always be the first person he saw each morning—without the excuse of him being his manservant. Arthur knew the urgency of having Merlin as his advisor, but he owed it to them to rebuild their mutual trust—so that Merlin would understand he belonged to him completely, of his own free will. God, priests, and kings... they were all going to have to wait.*

Chapter Text

Gwen and Merlin were walking through the Camelot market toward the draper’s. The morning chill still lingered in the air, but an energy emanated from the bustling activity of the market.

"I don't understand why I have to change my clothes. I feel a certain unease about standing out from the crowd."

"I know you well enough not to choose the most flamboyant clothes. But, unfortunately, when you and Arthur share your secret with everyone, you will have to prove your place. It is always helpful to have a polished appearance to meet the superficial needs of the nobles."

He pulled at his tunic, attempting to convince himself. "Is it not polished right now?"

Gwen pursed her lips with a mocking look.

"Seriously?" Merlin acted dramatically shocked.

Gwen laughed before a comfortable silence settled between them. Merlin's expression then shifted, concerned, and he asked more seriously: “I wonder how and when he’s going to do that. How is he going to explain the changes to my duties if not because of my magic?”

“Didn’t he tell you?”

“I’m not sure I understood him well...”

“He wants to play it slow. You will advise him in front of people, take up more space, and look credible and convincing for a few weeks. And then, when the time is right, you will both reveal your magic. It will give some time for the court to trust your character and adjust to the fall of the ban on magic.”

A running child passed between them as his mother called for him and apologized. Gwen had an idea in mind and could not contain it any longer. She grabbed Merlin’s arm and asked:

"Tell me, Merlin, how is it going with Arthur? Not just the political part I mean."

Merlin’s tone was both careful and concerned. "Do you really want to talk about this? How do you manage to seem so detached?"

"I am not completely immune, but I have your happiness at heart, and I understand your position. I will always love Arthur, just as I will always love you too. You held yourself back for so long, Merlin, just like him. I always suspected it.’’

Merlin shot her a skeptical look. She smiled and added: "I remember when I asked him how he envisioned his life if he weren't of royal blood, and all that seemed to remain was your presence."

The warlock raised an eyebrow. "What? For real?"

"All I am saying is, now that you can abandon yourself to your love, what is holding you back?" 

Merlin exhaled, and admitted "It’s as if, rationally, I understand what you’re telling me, and I see what Arthur is showing me. But emotionally, I believe so little that he could be interested in me, even less so in that way."

"Hasn't he shown you?"

‘’What do you mean?’’

Her eyes were trying to deliver him a silent message, and Merlin finally understood.

"Gwen!" Merlin knew he was probably blushing, and was so embarrassed by it that he turned even redder.

She briefly stopped walking to look at him straight. "Merlin. I need to know I did the right thing abandoning this part of our relationship, that I was clear enough with both of you." Her tone was firm, direct. 

The warlock felt like a child being scolded. "Yes, he did show… affection. But what if it’s temporary? Maybe he’ll realize I’m not worthy, or that he hates magic, or that I am not enough? And, he didn’t really say anything about our relationship, he just showed a lot of…"

"Affection."

Merlin scratched his head, obviously uneasy, and quickly answered while looking away and clearing his throat: "Yes."

"You do know that Arthur is not big on words? It’s all or nothing, and sometimes he needs a little push to actually say what he feels."

Gwen was really too good for this world. "You’re a good friend, Gwen, and an even more beautiful person," he said fondly.

She smiled at him and nodded toward the small stone building. “Here we are.”

“Wow, I’m so thrilled.” Merlin did not seem thrilled at all.

************

Gwen was right; she picked simple linen tunics with split necklines for Merlin. Linen was a better material than what Merlin had, but it was not as noble as other ones, like silk, for example. Some were shades of blue, others white and deep green. Only one was embroidered on the sleeves and the collar. That night-blue tunic was for more official or special occasions. So Merlin could keep things simple day to day.

“So, I just randomly start to wear that? No questions asked, like it was my due? I feel uncomfortable.”

“I’m sure Arthur will make it go smoothly.”

Merlin scoffed and realized she was being serious. “Yes. Of course.”

“Actually, there’s a meeting this afternoon concerning King Lot’s arrival. He wants you to be there.”

Well, that was fast. At least Merlin was relieved he could return to his chambers to see Gaius and maybe Helmar—and prepare himself to look like a complete fool in front of the whole court.

*************

“Do you know anything about King Lot, Helmar?” asked Merlin, sitting with Gaius and Helmar as they drank an infusion the physician had just prepared.

“I know of his cruelty. I also learned that he was in contact with sorcerers from the Northern Plains.”

“How did you learn that?”

“Mostly the Crystal Cave, but also, I knew a few sorcerers who traveled there and heard whispers of his exchanges with some magic folk from there.”

“But it’s not necessarily bad that he’s exchanging with sorcerers? Why do I feel like this worries you?”

“The Northern Plains are mostly wild; some creatures of magic live there. Some darker than others. It’s the perfect place for bandits or those who want to flee the law, since it’s barely explored. A few nomads are hidden in the forest or in abandoned places.”

“Like the fortress of Ismere where Morgana took up residence?”

“Yes. Most sorcerers from the Northern Plains keep to themselves. But there is one group people whisper about.”

Merlin frowned. “Whisper?”

“Because those who speak too loudly of them tend to… vanish.”

Merlin exchanged a look with Gaius.

“Their leader is called Jakar. The Crystal Cave showed me fragments… not answers. But I had heard the name before. If King Lot is seeking sorcerers, that is not a name I would want near him.”

“I heard that some sorcerers practiced darker magic in the Northern Plains; is that what you are referring to?” asked Gaius.

“They are said to experiment on people, feeding from suffering as they search for a stronger form of magic. They don’t let anyone into their group—or see them and live. That’s one of the reasons I’m not sure about the possibility of them and King Lot being allies.”

“You do know that I must tell Arthur all of this,” stated Merlin.

Helmar reached for Merlin’s forearm. “Of course, I wouldn’t expect less.”

***************

Arthur was settled comfortably on his throne, but he wondered if Merlin would actually come, as Gwen had guaranteed. Nobles and knights were already scattered throughout the room, ready to begin the assembly. Finally, he saw the door open and Merlin attempting to enter as discreetly as possible. It was a failure—especially for Arthur. He wore a white linen tunic and a brown belt. The purity of his appearance was all the more accentuated. The warlock looked at the floor and tucked his hair behind his ears as he made his way closer to Arthur. If he had looked up, he couldn’t have helped but roll his eyes in annoyance. The King saw Sir Jakob accost him and grab his biceps like he had the right to do so, like they were close. The knight looked far too happy, flirty, as he murmured something that made Merlin flush. Arthur thought he should have kept Merlin in his room forever that morning. 

“Merlin.” The King's voice echoed through the room, and he gestured with a finger to come closer. Merlin understood quickly and excused himself from Jakob.

“I want you… to be right there, not far from me, understood?” He pointed to the closest space someone could stand to the throne without it being disrespectful or on the same level as the King or Queen. And that… took everything from Arthur. In his mind, for a brief second that he would have hoped lasted an eternity before the current situation caught up with him, he imagined Merlin not only being by his side, but straight up riding his cock on the throne. Showing everyone, especially that fucking redheaded knight, who he belonged to. He wondered how Merlin’s heat would feel around his cock, what sounds he could make with his length buried inside of him. How he would respond to praise, or maybe humiliation. What got him out of his head was Merlin responding yes to his request and slightly bowing.

The council began, and Merlin couldn’t stop being so self-conscious of his appearance. He noticed a few looks and knew what they thought: who was he to suddenly dress like he belonged to their world?

Suddenly, Merlin was called upon by the King: “Merlin, share what you told me regarding King Lot.” 

Everyone turned toward him; he cleared his throat and tried to look confident. Normally, when he had taken the floor in the past, it was out of emotion and fear for Arthur's life. This time was different; it was official and controlled. He recounted what he had expressed to Arthur that morning, and before adding the information coming from Helmar, he asked the King: “I also have new information. I learned it today and would like to share it, if my lord could give me permission.”

“Do so.”

The warlock talked about Jakar and the rumors of exchanges between the Northern Plains and the King of Essetir. He didn’t speak about where he had found such information, as he didn’t want to make Helmar's existence too obvious in Camelot. As he finished, one noble—going by the name of Lord Douglas, one that despised magic as much as his belly was round from drinking too much ale and fighting the urge to drink more—spoke:

“Your Majesty, I don’t understand why we shall trust the word of a servant, who is obviously dressed too well for his rank. Besides, we never heard of this Jakar.” His tone was not only condescending, but as if he were laughing at something that was supposed to be ridiculous.

Half of the audience seemed to agree by nodding or smiling viciously. Merlin bit the inside of his cheeks; he could blow up that asshole right here and there. As he dared to search for approval, he saw Gwaine wink at him as an encouragement, which made him smile a little. Arthur stood up from the throne and approached the one who spoke. Gwen shot a nervous look around.

“You do know that Merlin was the one to actually drag me from certain death, Lord… what was it again?”

The lord cleared his throat. “Douglas.”

“Yes.” He was now standing so close that it seemed dominating. “And alone, he succeeded in bringing me back with the grace of Lake Albion. Where were you then, Lord Dalas?”

“Douglas.”

“That did not answer my question.”

The lord looked around but was met with avoiding faces.

“He sure saved you, my lord, but it’s his duty to serve you.”

“And it’s my duty to tell you that I trust what he tells me, and I think it’s long overdue that his voice is heard more, since it guided me too silently for so long. He saved and advised me more than any of you.”

That was a claim that Arthur felt taking possession of his whole being for weeks—how, without Merlin, he would have accomplished less and grown so little. From the second they met, his thoughts had been challenged in the best possible way.

“I understand, but I must be honest and say that it is quite uncommon. King Uther would have never done that.”

“And as your King, I must be honest. What you are doing right now—contesting my decisions—is a privilege. One I can revoke at any time. And if you challenge me again in that way on Merlin’s position, I will revoke it.” He stepped back and looked around the crowd, his words not only for one anymore. “Is that understood?”

Lord Everel broke the silence. “So what must we do about that possibility, my King?”

Nobles, knights, the King, and the Queen discussed ways to predict and protect against different outcomes. Merlin shared his knowledge of what a magical alliance between the King of Essetir and sorcerers could mean. He justified his knowledge through his studies as a physician, his encounters during quests with Arthur, and also his former life in Ealdor, in the Essetir Kingdom, where magic was permitted. Gaius approved of his words without hesitation. What gave Camelot an advantage was that the meeting would be on their territory. Secretly, Merlin was also a last-resort asset. However, King Lot’s unpredictability remained a challenge.

Once the meeting ended, a few knights, Merlin, the King, and the Queen remained. The warlock was chatting with the knights.

“You look quite noble, Merlin. What happened?” teased Percival.

“Apparently, giving my opinion more often comes with an outfit that has the duty to be convincing.”

“I understand the reasoning behind it. I always knew Arthur held your opinion in high regard, despite the times you both tried to hide your plans.”

“Yeah. About time, Merlin. You look really good.”

“Thanks, Gwaine.” 

‘’It really brings out your skin and eyes.’’ Said Sir Jakob. 

Merlin was as oblivious as Sir Jakob was flirtatious. He simply seemed overwhelmed by all the attention. Neither fact escaped Arthur, even from afar.

As the Queen departed, Arthur made his way into the discussion. He couldn’t resist the urge to pinch Merlin’s deep red cheeks, “Shy from all the attention, aren’t you, Merlin?”

“No!” That was obviously a lie.

He gave his… servant? Warlock? A few light slaps on the cheeks as the other knights laughed.

“I do wonder why King Lot feels the need to put heads on spikes?” Percival asked when the laughter died down.

Gwaine lowered his voice. “You know what they say: heads on a spike by the castle, small cock for the arsehole.”

If Merlin had water in his mouth, he would have spit it out. All the knights, including Arthur, started to laugh in disbelief. The dark humor somehow made everything seem a little less heavy. Once the agitation settled, Arthur put his arms around Merlin’s shoulders without any shame or thought that it would seem unusual to rest there for more than a second. His core feelings couldn't be stopped; before he could even confront the rules of etiquette, it was already too late to withdraw.

“Thank you all for attending.” He gave his traditional look of gratitude before continuing. “I would like to assign a mission to two of you. I want to have eyes in the Northern Plains for at least a week.”

“I can go, my lord,” answered Leon before anyone else.

“Thank you. I trust you with this mission, Sir Leon.” He squeezed his grasp on Merlin, and when the warlock saw his cocky expression, he knew the King had a plan behind all of this. He could almost feel Arthur smiling in victory behind his mask. “I would also appreciate giving our new knight, Sir Jakob, an opportunity to prove himself.”

Gwaine shot a winning look at Percival, who rolled his eyes in defeat. 

“Of course, my lord,” said Sir Jakob.

“Both of you can come and knock at my chamber tomorrow morning at sunrise. I’ll tell you more about it.”

As they bowed, Arthur moved to leave the room and murmured:

“Merlin, come with me.”

The warlock had no choice but to follow because of Arthur’s firm grip, even under the questioning eyes of the knights.

************

On their way to Arthur’s chambers, the King asked George to bring them dinner. Once the door shut behind them, Merlin didn’t have time to say anything before lips attacked his own. Arthur guided their bodies toward his desk and lifted Merlin by the hips to set him on top of it. His fingers found the collar of Merlin's tunic, and he pulled away from his lips, his gaze heavy with desire.

“Perhaps it was a mistake to have you wear such fabric in front of everyone. They were all looking at you like they wanted to see underneath.” 

Merlin found the idea absurd. “They were looking at me because I was not dressed as a servant. Don’t act like I’m suddenly attractive; you reminded me of the contrary for so long.”

“Maybe I was trying to convince myself.”

He couldn’t believe that for a second. “Nonsense.” 

Arthur guided one of Merlin’s hands to his crotch, where his hard-on fought not to pierce the fabric of his breeches. “Does this feel like nonsense?”

Merlin leaned forward, supporting himself with his free hand on the desk while keeping the other in contact with Arthur, and met the King's lips again. For the first time, he was the one to ask for more. Arthur was stunned at first, but then gripped the nape of Merlin's neck, approving of this demonstration, and ferociously kissed him harder.

“Your tunic—take it off, right now.”

“I thought you wanted me to dress more appropriately.”

“I don’t even know what is appropriate anymore. Maybe I should just keep you here.” His voice dropped into a low rumble as his grip on Merlin’s hair tightened. “Now. Take. It. Off.”

He let go of Merlin—the warlock's hand leaving his throbbing erection—to watch him undress, the fabric dancing against his hips and then his ribs. As soon as it uncovered Merlin’s skin, Arthur went to kiss him again as his hands discovered first his biceps, then his shoulders. He wished he could sink his nails into him and merge their bodies into one.

On Merlin’s side, he felt the fresh air harden his nipples as much as his dick was. He just needed to rub against Arthur, to get down on his knees and taste the hard cock he had held in his hands minutes ago. As he went to touch Arthur again, they heard a knock at the door.

“Dinner, my Lord.”

Arthur sighed in frustration and moved quickly toward the door. He didn't let George in and took the two meals. Fortunately, the angle prevented George from seeing Merlin, completely desperate with want, still sitting on the desk as if he might faint. The King slammed the door shut and placed the meals on the small table near the fire before returning to Merlin. His hands settled on Merlin’s hips, his lips brushing his ear.

“Must I do everything?”

Merlin slid off the desk, causing their cocks to meet. He continued the movement, gently pushing Arthur toward the bed, both surprised that the King accepted his fate. Arthur ended up sitting on the edge of the bed; even though he had allowed himself to be guided, his presence and control were heavy in the room.

“Are you going to kneel for me, Merlin?”

“Why would I kneel, my lord?” What was supposed to be teasing sounded more like a whispered plea. 

Icy eyes went darker as Arthur’s pupils blew out. He lifted his hips slightly and pushed down his breeches to pull out his cock. The sight of it made Merlin second-guess his decisions—maybe he should run? How would he handle all of this? He thought his own was average… but after seeing both of them side-by-side last time, and now seeing it right in front of him, he wasn't sure anymore. He felt his mouth watering and slowly fell to his knees in defeat, compelled by desire and a hunger to please. It was as if defiance had no meaning in this setting.

Shirtless and on his knees before his King. Even with Arthur being the one exposed, Merlin felt vulnerability course through him. He had never done this; he didn't even know how to begin. Arthur’s cocky smile widened as his hand closed around the back of Merlin’s nape, his thumb stroking his cheek as encouragement.

“Go on now.”

Merlin slowly leaned forward, and the King felt Merlin’s hot breath just an inch from his cock, making him even harder, if that were possible. The anticipation was killing him; he just wanted to pull Merlin’s head forward and let him take it until he begged for air. Then his tongue slid along the base, moving upward. 

Was he really going to give him "kitten licks"? Arthur would actually have been fine with anything.

But then, he met Merlin’s eyes, and the warlock just fucking winked before slowly taking Arthur’s tip into his mouth, teasing him with his tongue. All Arthur wanted was to lie back and let himself be submerged by the sensations. But his deeper nature—his urge to test limits—and that damn wink, stopped him. 

He murmured, “If it’s really too much—I mean so much that you think you’re going to fucking die—tap twice on my thigh.”

Merlin didn’t have time to think about what that meant. He understood quickly as he felt himself choking on almost ten inches of lust. He held his breath; he did not want to disappoint Arthur, and he sure as hell didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of mocking him if he failed after only a second. The King held the back of his servant’s head at the base of his thick cock, fascinated that he could take the full length of it. Then he pulled him almost completely away before plunging him back down, starting a slow rhythm that taught Merlin the importance of breathing when he could.

Arthur could have watched those lips stretched around his cock all day—he would have fought an entire army just to make this last an eternity. No one else had ever seen how deep Merlin’s throat could take it, or how pretty and perfect he looked on his knees, on the verge of tears, stubborn in his desire to be good. Merlin felt Arthur’s pubic hair tickling his nose, and Arthur held him there for several seconds, stroking his hair. 

“Good boy. You just love being such a slut for me, don’t you? Only for me, of course.”

Arthur let go of his grip.

Merlin wanted to answer, but he was seeing stars. He remembered he needed to tap on Arthur’s leg, but then he felt his head being lifted from the length. Saliva was smeared around his red, well-used mouth. He caught his breath, eyes barely opened as he faced Arthur, lost in lust.

“Yes... only you, my Lord.”

“So obedient for me. Is that why you stayed choked on my dick even as I let go of you, hmm? Waiting for my permission?”

Merlin was so far from pride; all he could answer faintly was, “Yes.”

Arthur got up, gripping Merlin’s hair so the warlock would follow his lead. He turned them around and pushed Merlin onto the bed. He yanked the servant’s trousers away, revealing his entire body, and shucked off the rest of his own clothes. Laid out like this, in Arthur's bed, Merlin was like a sacrificial lamb. Arthur slowly crawled between his thighs, grabbing one of them for support and throwing the other over his shoulder, then attacked the erection before him without hesitation.

Merlin wanted to protest, to say that Arthur didn’t have to do this, but he choked on his own words. This kind of intimacy with Arthur was beyond even his highest hopes. Full lips—ones that usually mocked or ordered him—were wrapped around his cock, sucking on it and stripping away what little control Merlin had left. Then Merlin felt Arthur withdraw and heard him spit on something. Quickly, wetness returned to his length, but a finger was now seeking his entrance. It slowly went in, testing the resistance, circling slowly as it worked its way in, and then… when Merlin thought his pleasure was at its peak, an electric shock took hold of his hips and he couldn't hold back a gasp of surprise as he threw his head back. He sensed Arthur’s proud victory as the King continued to push against that spot, and Merlin could only whimper even more. He started bucking his hips against Arthur’s finger.

“Arthur, please.”

Arthur paused, his tongue circling back to the tip of Merlin’s cock. “You need more, don’t you?” He kissed the inside of Merlin’s thigh before biting it hard enough for his sorcerer to stifle a whimper. “So do I. But I want to slowly enjoy every unraveling part of you, Merlin. Years should not be rushed into minutes.”

Merlin felt his heart drop; desire was not the only thing present in the room. Arthur continued his kisses, and Merlin's skin was covered in shivers, before the King descended again toward his dick and picked up the same pace with his finger. All the sensations, the surprising words—it was too much. He felt like his pleasure was going to burst any second.

“Arthur, I’m going to cum, you need to get off.”

Arthur slowly pulled his finger out and grabbed his own dick, still aroused from before and from all the moans coming out of Merlin’s mouth. He kept working Merlin’s erection while stroking his own. Merlin soon came in Arthur’s mouth, moaning even louder, his eyes glowing with magic, shocked when Arthur swallowed it all. Once his mouth was away—never truly wanting to leave—Arthur covered Merlin’s body with his own, caging him as he continued to stroke himself. He kissed him once, wet and tender, and came between their bodies with a gasp that only they could share between breaths. Warm foreheads connected; never had they felt this way. Bodies felt distant, transported to a dimension where they alone transcended. Two stars forming a unique constellation.

“Stay with me again tonight,” breathed Arthur.

“Yes,” was all Merlin’s heart begged to say as he succumbed to it.

Arthur got off him, and Merlin cleaned them both with a silent spell. Their shoulders brushing, Arthur couldn't stop himself from pulling Merlin closer, and the warlock naturally wrapped himself around him.

“Arthur?”

“Yes?”

“I need to tell you something.”

“Hm?”

Merlin kissed Arthur’s neck and admitted in a whisper, “I think there’s something inside you, my Lord… It’s hard to explain … You’re still the same, but somehow, in some aspects, you do feel different.”*

Arthur went silent. “I know.” He kissed Merlin’s head. “It’s not different, just raw.” He paused, hesitating. “I’m going to tell you something you don’t want to hear, even more so after what you told me about the prophecy changing.”*

Merlin looked up at him, open to whatever Arthur was ready to tell him. “What is it?”

“I see deeply into my emotions, my desires. So deep that sometimes it scares me how intense it is.” Merlin could feel Arthur shaking inside from that confession, trying to retreat in his mind to avoid feeling anything. Merlin squeezed his hand, encouraging him to continue. Arthur breathed out and turned to face him. “I might show you where it’s dark, but… please Merlin, have no fear. I would never hurt you.”*

“I know, but what about you?”

“I can manage.”

“Don’t leave me out, Arthur. Let me help you when I can.”

“Well, tonight helped… a lot.” There were those teasing eyes again.

“Stupid,” Merlin said weakly, burying his face in the covers.

Arthur scoffed fondly.

“We need to eat,” said Merlin.

“I forgot about the food.”

“So did I, but with what’s coming, you shouldn't skip meals.”

“Couldn’t you float them here so we can eat in bed?”

“Float them?” Merlin asked, amused.

“Well, can you?”

Merlin went to kiss him first, slowly. “Of course.”

Chapter Text

Arthur was, surprisingly, the first to wake up. He felt particularly energetic, as if he could have destroyed an entire army all on his own. Merlin was pressed against him, both of them half naked, Arthur encircling him with his muscular body. The King was relieved that he hadn't left the bed. He definitely would have destroyed that army if these moments were to be taken from him. He squeezed his servant, kissing his neck, which only hardened his morning erection. If he could, he would forget everything else and just breathe Merlin in for the rest of his life. Arthur thought for a second how foolish he had been, pushing away those feelings and desires for so long. He could have had him long before. He could have noticed that Merlin was not indifferent to him either. He blessed the gods that no one had laid their claim on him. Now, he wouldn’t have to hang someone.

Before he could stop himself, naturally his hips started to buck against Merlin’s ass, searching for friction. He gently nibbled the ear of his servant, who was beginning to wake up.

“Mmh…Arthur,” Merlin moaned.

Arthur pulled both of their breeches down. He spat on his hand and coated his own dick with slick before putting it between Merlin’s thighs. The tip of his cock was rubbing against the base of Merlin’s cock and balls.

“Keep your legs together.”

Merlin went to touch his own dick but Arthur stopped him.

“No touching yourself.”

“Why?” Merlin whimpered in protest.

“Because I say so.”

The sorcerer accepted his fate and was curiously turned on by actually listening to Arthur.

“Good boy.”

Arthur started bucking his hips, both of them moaning from the friction. One of his hands moved to grip the front of his throat, pressing him against his own body even more. One finger went inside Merlin’s mouth. “Suck. Just like you did so well last night.”

Merlin’s heart was racing; he was now perfectly awake. He swirled his tongue around Arthur’s finger, then bit it hard enough for Arthur to pull it back.

“Ouch.” Arthur got his body away from Merlin only to flip the warlock onto his back, lunge over him, and easily trap Merlin’s wrists against the pillow as he playfully said, “That is not how you did it last night.”

“Maybe I should have, since you’re being so commanding.”

“You love it. Look how hard you are; not only your dick, but your nipples are just asking for my mouth.”

Merlin shied away, turning his head. Arthur gently brought his head back and went to grab a kiss, then descended to his throat, which he bit and sucked enough to leave a mark. Merlin moaned, “So I can’t bite you, but you can?”

Arthur smirked, then went to suck on Merlin’s nipples, biting them gently. He would have liked to do more, but he had to control himself so as not to completely traumatize Merlin and make him pull back. 

Arthur heard some faint noise outside his chambers. Merlin was so out of it, whimpering and seeking friction however he could with his body, that he didn’t even notice. It wasn't that surprising since every time they hunted together, Arthur was always the one to notice noises. He smiled devilishly.

“You want me to touch you? Make you cum?” He whispered against Merlin’s skin, his hot breath setting him on fire.

“Please, Arthur.”

That kind of power, thought Arthur—the one that made Merlin beg without hesitation, leaving behind his usually defiant and bratty nature—was the most blissful the King had ever encountered. What could he do but ask for more?

“I’m not sure I’m hearing well.”

“Touch me, I beg you!” the warlock said louder.

Arthur brought Merlin’s legs over his left shoulder. He put his own dick between Merlin’s thighs again and rubbed them both together with his hand as he slowly thrust his hips. “Look at you, finally listening to me and being polite.”

Merlin wasn’t in the state of mind to answer; he didn't even know if he truly wanted to anymore. In that moment, he could have stayed in that room, begging for those sensations, for an eternity. Every part of him was like a droplet returning to the ocean after a violent, breathtaking wave, gasping as no one could hear. Arthur kissed the outside of his ankle, his teeth grazing roughly against the skin.

They heard knocks at the door. “My lord, Sir Jakob and I are here, as you requested.”

Merlin froze in panic as Arthur calmly replied:

“You can wait there a minute, I’m coming.” He lowered his voice. “Literally.”

“Arthur, they will hear us.”

“They probably already did, since you were so loud.”

As realization set in, Arthur stroked them faster while his hips followed the rhythm. Merlin didn't have time to think further; he bit his lips so hard to avoid making any noise. It hurt too much, so he decided to put his hand over his mouth. But Arthur trapped him again with one strong hand:

“Let them hear who you belong to.”

Merlin struggled to grumble a protest. “I-I don’t belong to—” He felt Arthur’s grip tighten around his wrists, holding their dicks together with the other hand as he thrust faster. Merlin’s release was coming, his soul drifting toward a path of ecstasy.

“Ah! Arthur!”

“Are you alright, my lord?” they heard from outside the door.

“Yes, don't worry,” Arthur replied.

His mouth found Merlin’s again, as if he were engulfing the last bite of his prey. He released Merlin's wrists, his tongue trailing on the bruise on his neck then over his cheeks, satisfied.

“That hurt,” Merlin whispered.

“Mmh, you didn’t like it?” Arthur countered with a smug air, pulling back to observe the sorcerer’s expression.

To Arthur, that look could have been the final blow before he succumbed to possessing Merlin with his entire being: eyes slightly clouded by tears of pleasure and pain, an expression tormented by his own almost shameful realizations—the struggle between the urge to resist and the depth of an exhilarating, unknown darkness. The more their relationship intensified, the more Merlin felt lost in a painful lucidity of his own loving resignation. He had no words to answer, not knowing how to formulate anything. He realized Arthur had gotten up to wet a cloth and had begun to clean the mess of their pleasure.

“I could have used magic.”

“I know, but just because it’s easy doesn't mean it’s always your job to do it.”

Once Arthur finished, he asked, “Can you get up and tell our guests that I will accompany them to the Round Table in a few minutes?”

“Why don’t you?”

“Sincerely, Merlin, do I have to explain who I am again?”

“Oh, I know who you are.”

“An ass, you’ll say?”

“Very perceptive today, my lord. But I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to open the door.”

Arthur sighed and added more firmly, “You will open it. But yes, you definitely need to get dressed. You can put this on.” He handed him one of his clean tunics. Merlin was so anxious about the people outside and wanting to look normal that he didn’t even question it.

Merlin quickly cracked the door open to face Sir Leon and Sir Jakob. By the way they were looking at him, they were definitely suspicious. Sir Jakob made eye contact with the warlock, who looked disheveled: hair wild, cheeks flushed, lips bruised, and eyes darting away.

“Hi, Merlin.” Jakob stared at him up and down, eyes stopping on a very purple bruise he had on his neck and a faint redness that could have been from some kind of pressure around his throat. When he had heard the sounds coming from the King’s chambers, he had tried to imagine other options; the King was married, and Merlin was his servant—a pure-looking one at that. 

A second later, the door opened further as a very half-naked Arthur placed a nonchalant arm around Merlin’s shoulder, one hand tightened around the trapezius at the base of his neck while the other held the door. Merlin looked at him with wide doe-like eyes, astonished. 

“Hi, Sir Jakob,” the blonde said.

The redhead acknowledged, for the first time, the display that had been in front of him for much longer than this moment: the possessive hand, the look of domination, and the eagerness to win.

“You both can go and wait for me at the Round Table.”

“Then why did you ask them to meet you here?” Merlin asked, incredulous.

“Uhm, I don’t know. I wonder why,” scoffed Arthur, faking innocence. “But I think Sir Jakob understands why.” He looked at him, his gaze as deep as a moonless sky.

“Understood, my lord.” Jakob looked defeated, embarrassed. “See you in a few minutes.” He and Leon departed.

That was where Merlin’s obliviousness stopped. As soon as Arthur closed the door, Merlin snapped, “You did this on purpose.” His heart was racing, ashamed. 

“Did what?”

“Called them in early, asking me to… speak louder, coming behind me naked!” He looked around, tugging at the shirt he was wearing. “You put your shirt on me!” He pulled it off quickly, searching for his own tunic. Finding it beside the bed, he yanked it on. “You’re the King! You shouldn’t be so… shameless.”

“I don’t care.”

“I do! You are the greatest King Albion has ever known, and you diminish yourself with tricks!” He paused and almost whispered, “Did you know I was going to be here this morning? Do you take it for granted that I would succumb?”

Arthur’s composure failed. Panicked, he almost ran toward his servant. “No, never. I only hoped with all my being that it would be the case.” 

“Because you wanted them to hear us?!”

The King looked at the floor. “A small part of it… yes.” His lips pinched with hesitation and fear. 

“And what about Gwen? Did you consider how humiliating it can be for her if others know about us?’’

“I know!’’ He looked up to him, a bit pent up, but he breathed in, knowing he had to calm down. ‘’But I just…” He brushed Merlin’s cheek with his thumb, trembling to contain himself, as if afraid the man before him might vanish. “I cannot endure another morning without your body by my side. Yes, I hoped to show them that you are mine, because I cannot stand the way that knight looks at you. I hate that I cannot demonstrate my…”

He hesitated, his hand now against his own mouth to stifle the words, searching for a way to speak without revealing too much. “My relationship with you. You are the most powerful wizard to ever live, yet you hid yourself from me while others revered you. It drives me mad with an agonizing ache—as much as it fascinates me. You can always slip away, never truly mine. What control do I have, when all I want is to touch every part of you that you allow? Every second, I restrain myself from demanding more.”

He gently squeezed the nape of Merlin’s neck. “The honesty of your being, of who you are… it fulfills me as much as it frustrates me to no end.”

Merlin could have fainted from the shock. He thought of what Gwen had said yesterday—that Arthur needed to be pushed to speak his mind. Never could he have believed that such striking words would escape his King’s mouth. Never would he have considered that he’d had such a drastic impact on Arthur’s sentimental world. But on one hand, he was dismayed that Arthur doubted him, just as he was terrified of that doubt finally ending.

He began to speak, his voice hoarse;

“I hope you don’t think I stuck with you all those years because of a prophecy? That I dedicated my attention to nothing but you out of pure destiny? I don’t care about the glory of my power; I care about you. As much as I hate to admit it, I have been busy being yours for a long time.* But you need to stop thinking you can play games behind my back as if I were an object—I know that deeply, you don't truly believe that. Own up to your emotions and tell them to me instead of treating me like I’m clueless.” 

Arthur felt calmer, a bit reassured, but needed to add, “You are clueless. You didn't even notice that knight flirting with you.”

“Maybe because I don’t see anyone but you! And I still highly doubt that he was interested.’’ 

“Like I said-’’ 

Merlin cut him short “Anyway, you can just tell me—show me—what you feel instead of manipulating things.”

“What if you despise what I show you?” he murmured, looking down.

“Then it would not be the first time, and I would still be here.”

It was unique to see the King so vulnerable. Merlin, hesitating, moved his hand toward Arthur’s cheek. He paused before resting it there gently, their gazes locking. He felt as if he was taking the first step to try to tame a beast. “Please, trust me. I see your heart.”

“And I... want to see all of you,” Arthur said, his voice shaking, as he leaned in to kiss Merlin softly, who breathed him in deeply.  

When they parted, Merlin smiled. “Now, dress and go meet the knights. I’ll bring you breakfast, or tell George if I see him.” The warlock made his way to the door.

“Ordering me, Merlin?”

“Yes. And I am still mad about what you did. It was disrespectful to Gwen and humiliating for me.” He opened the door to leave. 

“Why do I feel like you liked one of those things?” Arthur asked cheekily.

Merlin thanked the gods his back was turned to Arthur so the King couldn't see his face. He simply closed the door a little more forcefully than usual and left. 

**************

Sir Leon and Sir Jakob departed soon after the meeting. As soon as Arthur was alone, his thoughts drifted back to Merlin. He walked through the castle, thinking of finding him, of pressing him into a dark corner to breathe in that infatuating energy again. To have that dark hair tangled in his hands. He knew what he’d done was selfish, but he was relieved to have chased an extra pair of eyes off his servant for a few days. Perhaps during this trip, Sir Jakob would reflect on his mistakes. After that, Arthur was convinced the knight would be nothing more than polite with Merlin. Somehow, the only guilt he felt was the one of not regretting his choices. He had even restrained himself from doing more.

“Arthur.” He heard Guinevere’s voice and turned. “We need to talk.” She began walking toward her chambers without waiting for a reply, and Arthur knew he was in trouble.

***********

When Arthur closed the door behind him, he was faced with an angry Gwen. “Do you know who I crossed paths with this morning?”

He looked at her, intrigued. She continued, “Sir Leon and Sir Jakob.” She watched his passive expression. “Do you know what they were talking about?’ She paused. ‘’They weren't quiet enough to keep me from hearing them before they noticed me.”

Ah. “I see.”

“Well, you obviously don’t. What if someone else had heard them? Luckily, I was the only one! You are preparing to welcome an unstable king, which could lead to war. Do you think this is the right time to completely destroy the stable image you project? Our image? Have you thought of the repercussions this could have—not only for me or the Kingdom, but for Merlin—if an enemy learned of your attachment to someone as vulnerable as a servant?”

“I won’t let that happen. I would kill before anyone reached him.”

Gwen shook her head, discouraged that this was all he had taken from their exchange. “You need to calm down, Arthur. At least until the peace agreement with King Lot is secured. Be more discreet. And also, do it for me. I don’t care if we eventually explain some kind of arrangement in a way that doesn't disgrace me, but not right now.”

Arthur sighed, rubbing his forehead. “You are right.” Arthur was disappointed in himself. “I am not thinking like a King.” He stepped toward Gwen and confessed, “I just feel like I’m losing my mind.”

“Then you need to find a way to be with him that helps you control your impulses a little more. Please, contain yourself for the next few days. Can you do that?”

“Of course.” A promise he wanted so much to respect, but it already felt like a lie.

************

That day, when training with the knights, Arthur felt more powerful than ever. Focused, he parried every blow with grace—a powerful yet merciful force. His sword blocked every attack fluidly. He riposted with astonishing precision and speed, his expression serene. Since the Battle of Camlann, the knights had been astonished by his strength. It wasn't that he wasn’t strong before, but no one had defeated him since his return. Previously, a knight would occasionally best Arthur in combat; after all, they were talented swordsmen, worthy of their titles. Now, the power of his blows was almost surreal. Gwaine wondered if Merlin had something to do with it—if a spell was involved. At the same time, he doubted Merlin would use his powers in such a way, and he knew Arthur would never agree to it. He would likely see it as cheating and unfair. So, Gwaine decided to wait before speaking to the warlock about it, but he remained deeply concerned.

“Gwaine! Your turn!’’ Yelled Percival. 

Shit.

*************

4 days before King Lot’s arrival

Arthur could not do it. The only way he found to contain himself was to avoid Merlin at all costs. He gave all servant duties to George and made George announce it to Merlin. Another servant, Diane, who had served the crown for several years and was known for her discretion, had been tasked with keeping an eye on Merlin. Arthur told himself it was only so he could avoid him better. He made it his mission to cross paths with Merlin only during council meetings where the sorcerer’s presence was relevant.

But even then, his gaze couldn't help but linger on every detail of the man before him as he spoke to nobles and knights. He noticed Merlin’s voice fluttering when he realized Arthur’s attention. In those moments, when he saw Merlin so affected by his presence, the King wished he had a painter to capture this masterpiece, yet he feared that nothing could truly equal the reality. Sitting on his throne, he felt as though he were kneeling before such temptation that he yearned to reach. 

To keep from succumbing, every time Merlin tried to talk to him directly, alone, Arthur would run the opposite way and make a poor excuse. Arthur loathed his restraint. Once upon a time, he knew he could content himself with merely observing Merlin for an eternity if it meant a promise of his constant presence. Merlin, for his part, could have been satisfied serving in silence, drinking in those brief looks of approval that disarmed him. But both of them had moved past such futilities; they could no longer flee the truth that made their souls scream in unison. So many years of something that could have been, but never at the right moment. Now that Arthur knew both could breathe the world of the other, he could not stop himself from wanting more.

**********

3 days before King Lot’s arrival

“All I saw was him gathering herbs and hanging out with some man with white hair,” Diane reported. 

“Gaius?’’ Asked Arthur

“No, he was much younger!”

Arthur realized immediately who she was talking about. “I should have sent the whole kingdom on that fucking trip to the Northern Plains,” Arthur muttered under his breath.

“Pardon me, my lord?” 

He kept his calm as best he could. “Nothing. Thank you, Diane.” 

***********

Merlin wondered why Arthur seemed to be avoiding him. Was it because of what he had said about Gwen? Was Arthur angry? Or had the King finally realized it was all a mistake?

Merlin had no reason to visit Arthur in his chambers now that George had taken over all his duties for the week—without any explanation. To go there now would contradict his own request to be more discreet for Gwen’s sake, and he suspected it was also a terrible idea, given the arrival of King Lot. Besides, pride kept him from going. He had already revealed so much of his own weakness, of desires he hadn't even known existed. Simply put, he wished he could fade into the moss of the forest and never show his face again.

So, he busied himself with his physician’s duties and practiced magic with Helmar, who was still sticking around. Sometimes, Merlin found it almost suspicious that the man was so honestly devoted and present. He always kept his guard up; with his experience, it would have been naive to blindly trust the Druid's kindness. These days, the only thing he could succumb to were the touches of his King and the hungry, unspoken requests.

Crossing Arthur's gaze was becoming unbearable; even in front of everyone, he had to remind himself of the basics of survival—like breathing. Arthur's eyes were on the dark side whenever they landed on Merlin. His iris screamed at him to kneel, to crawl back to him* to satisfy their impulses in a carnage, until nothing was left for the vultures.

*************

Two days before King Lot’s arrival

Arthur stood by his window, observant of his kingdom. He spotted Merlin and Helmar walking and talking peacefully. His absence was making a dark hole in the King’s heart. Then, a laugh illuminated Merlin’s face, one that could have appeased Arthur in another circumstance, but then, the Druid responded with a gentle squeeze on the sorcerer’s shoulder. Helmar’s expression was adoring, clearly happy to have drawn a laugh from Merlin.

Arthur gripped the stone windowsill tightly. Apparently, the sorcerer was indifferent to the lack of contact with him; he was finding companionship elsewhere. The King’s thoughts began to spiral as much as he tried to contain them, and he suddenly struck the stone wall. A small piece of masonry broke off. Perhaps he had hit it harder than intended; he looked at his fist, expecting to be injured by such a blow. He found nothing—not a scratch.

He pushed that curious event far in his mind and cast one last look out the window, then turned and headed toward the training grounds. 

Alone, he hammered at a wooden mannequin with his sword, peeling away its bark with aggressive ease. He was grateful it was not a knight, for they would likely have been injured by the King’s unstoppable strikes.

“Need a partner for practice, my Lord?” called Sir Samir. He was tall, all muscle, and focused in combat. Perfect.

Gwaine made his way to them, noticing Arthur’s unusual mood. “I don’t know, the mannequin seemed to be doing the job!”

“Afraid, Gwaine?” Arthur joked.

Actually, yes. But Gwaine simply resigned himself, shook his head, and let them be. Why was it his responsibility to handle this?

This time, Arthur was not calm and precise; he was chaotic, burning with a fire to destroy whoever came at him. He had the eyes of a sadistic killer, smiling like the devil welcoming a soul at the gates of hell. One stroke of his sword: he parried the other's. Two strokes: he was impressively fast, hitting the knight’s arm. Ducking down to avoid Samir's riposte, he took the opportunity to attack his leg. Taking advantage of the vulnerability, not giving him time to get back up, the fourth stroke would have been deadly if it were not training.

Then, Gwaine panicked when he saw Arthur go for a fifth—as if it were not training at all. He seemed possessed. Gwaine was on his way to intervene when one voice stopped it all.

“Arthur!”

Arthur heard Merlin’s voice, pulling him out of his trance. He then saw Samir’s terrified expression as he knelt before him, pleading for mercy. Arthur was disconcerted by his own behavior; he extended his hand to the knight to help him up. “I am sorry, Sir Samir. My instincts got the better of me. I hope you will forgive me.”

Samir accepted the hand and smiled. “No worries, my Lord. Practice is also what helps us tame our anger.”

Proud of his knight, Arthur gave a nod of respect and a firm grip on his shoulder before letting him go, helped by Gwaine. He turned toward Merlin, who had approached with Helmar. “You alright, my Lord?”

Arthur stepped toward Merlin. “Yes.” He devoured him with his gaze, then, arrogant, asked: “Would your friend like a turn?”

Merlin registered the information seconds too late as he tried to disconnect from such tension with the King. When he started to answer, Helmar had beaten him to it. “You do know I am a Druid?”

“So? You have your magic; I have my sword.”

Helmar seemed to hesitate on which path to take, then decided to test something, grinning. He put his arm around Merlin, squeezing him. “What do you think, Emrys?”

Hostile energy was emanating from the King, as he was repressing a low growl. Merlin pulled back slightly from the embrace and affirmed, “I wish you good luck, Helmar. Magic or not, Arthur is a great fighter.”

This explicit demonstration of loyalty and trust made Arthur’s cock jolt, his chest almost puffing at the sight of Merlin’s total favor for his King over all others. He smiled with all his teeth, and winked. “Then let’s get to it. But first, you must put on some armor. I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“I won’t.”

***********

Face to face, Helmar began with a spell that Arthur dodged, though not without effort. He cast another, but this time Arthur was prepared and avoided it with ease. Helmar was disconcerted by the King's speed, which allowed Arthur to land a sword strike on his arm. The Druid retaliated with another spell meant to throw Arthur back; however, Arthur stumbled only a foot or two before continuing his attack.

The rest of the fight proceeded similarly, with Helmar occasionally hitting Arthur with a spell, but Arthur was minimally impacted compared to what was expected. After a few minutes, Helmar decided to invoke a more powerful incantation. As he cast it, he saw that Arthur wasn't even looking at him for a fraction of a second; he was smirking at Merlin, who wore a look of adoration. The ghost of that look seemed to linger behind the next decisive blows of the battle.

Then, what Helmar knew of the prophecy made a lot more sense—a fraction of a second too late. Helmar lost the battle as Arthur finished him with a strike that sent him to the ground, knocking the breath out of him. Arthur shot one last look at Merlin, who was visibly shocked. As the king wanted to go to him, he resigned himself, turning and leaving the training field while Helmar remained on the ground.

**********

One day before King Lot’s arrival

Everything was ready, possibilities explored, and plans set up. Still, Arthur was restless and obviously tormented. He felt impatient, aggressive, and almost wished for a war, so much did he want to release this malevolent energy that was gnawing at him. He hadn’t truly touched Merlin in nearly five days, and his obsessive thoughts only continued to grow. He had dreamed of him nearly every night.* Eating felt hollow, and peace felt like a distant memory.

Gwen noticed, and she no longer knew what to advise. It reminded her of Morgana—a woman she had loved deeply, but who had eventually brought her to a point of utter helplessness. She didn’t want to relive that with Arthur, who was in a completely different situation. 

She wasn’t entirely certain of the origin of Arthur’s distress, but she had her suspicions. She was torn between preserving her honor and protecting the kingdom, but she feared that, in the end, her stance was only harming Arthur’s reign. He was demanding, and nearly cruel to those around him. Just this morning, he had dismissed George from breakfast for no apparent reason and in a completely disproportionate cold manner. During dinner, she couldn’t help but address the situation.

“What is going on, Arthur? You have been completely on edge for the past few days.”

Arthur swallowed his mouthful of food that tasted bland, then set his fork down with a loud clatter. He unloosed his tongue, unable to contain it any longer. “I just… I need Merlin. I can’t focus on anything when I don’t have him. I feel anger coursing through me but also a dullness.”

“Don’t you see him every day?”

“Not like I want to! I followed your advice to be discreet. But unless I avoid him entirely, I can’t tame myself when I actually face him.”

“Arthur, you are not a child! It’s not black or white.”

“With him, it is.’’ And hell, did he want to plunge into that dark, overwhelming deepness. 

Gwen shook her head in disapproval. She no longer knew what to say, no longer knew what the best option was. She continued eating her meal and changed the subject, trying to lighten the mood. 

**************

Arthur was pacing in the throne room late, in his nightshirt. He was trying to find some form of peace, some kind of answer. He had to admit he was nervous about the coming days; he didn't want to make a mistake and jeopardize his people or those he loved. He had all this gnawing energy banging to get out, and he didn’t know what to do with it. His actions in the past days were completely unworthy. He was pulled from his invasive thoughts when he heard the door open. Arthur saw the warlock enter the room quietly, almost like a child who had done something wrong. He watched him hesitate before finally finding his voice.

“I know you’re avoiding me, and I have an idea why. But I needed to ask how you were.” Seeing no rejection in the King’s expression, Merlin turned to quietly close the door behind him.

When he turned back to face the King, he didn't even have time to realize what was happening before firm hands gripped his face, nails digging into his jaw as Arthur’s mouth collided with his. The back of his head met the door, Arthur pressing into him, causing him to hiss from a pain that was quickly extinguished by the other sensations flooding his body. Arthur's tongue explored the inside of his mouth, suffocating him as the King took everything he wanted, as if Merlin were the only cure for whatever had haunted him these past days. God, how Arthur had craved this mouth, this scent, and this overwhelming fulfillment.

He gave Merlin a moment to breathe, but it was interrupted again when he felt hands explore beneath his shirt, pressing roughly against his skin as they moved firmly up toward his chest. Merlin naturally gripped the nape of Arthur’s neck, pulling him back to retaliate against his kiss. Teeth met teeth as they both grunted, noses pressed together and foreheads sharing the heat of their skin. Arthur pulled hard on Merlin’s hair, forcing his head back at a sharp angle. 

“I saw you today, with that Druid,” Arthur hissed against his ear. “Making you laugh, touching what is mine right in front of me. Almost provoking me on purpose, hmm?” He lightly slapped Merlin's cheek before grabbing his face, his piercing eyes detailing every feature. A chill of excitement ran through the King as he saw tears welling in Merlin's eyes.

Merlin struggled not to collapse right there on the floor, his body reacting with a pathetic, wanton need to be held, to please. His voice was trembling as he tried his best to put on a cocky smile. “Is that why you almost killed him on the training grounds?”

“Well, you are the reason I did not.” Arthur licked Merlin’s neck before sucking a new bruise right over the one that had begun to fade.

“Arthur, we have to stop.” He only sucked harder and bit into his skin as Merlin moaned. “I really did want to check on you. Please.”

The King reluctantly released his grip and pulled his lips from Merlin's neck before kissing him one last time. “Fine.” He stepped back, observing the mess he had made with satisfaction, trying to ignore his own raging arousal. Merlin reminded himself how to stand straight, out of breath, but let his body lean against the door for support. He looked up at Arthur, trying not to let his eyes linger on the bulge in Arthur’s pants; if he did, he would lose all rationality.

“I’m fine,’’ Arthur said.  ‘’Just… worried about the coming days. And lately, I feel angry... restless.” He paused, thinking. “Curiously, it feels much more tame now. Maybe I was just a bit horny?” He joked.

Merlin smiled. “You know I’ll be there, however you want me.” Arthur gave him a wicked, perverse smirk at that, and Merlin rolled his eyes, exasperated. “You know what I mean. I have your back; I’ll help you protect Camelot.”

Arthur grunted in acknowledgment as Merlin stepped forward to kiss his cheek lightly. “Goodnight, my lord.”

Chapter Text

Merlin couldn’t help himself to go see Arthur the morning of King Lot’s arrival. Not only because the rough touch of the King’s fingertips had haunted him. Nor because he couldn’t help seeking relief before falling asleep; thinking of the hand against his throat, and the lips that had made him moan shamefully. Last night, he had let himself be carried away by that powerful wave from which he sometimes did not want to emerge. This morning, he fully intended to keep his head above water.

He knocked twice on the King’s door, knowing that he was probably eating, now that he was no longer the one serving him for the past few days. Before he even had time to announce himself verbally, Arthur indicated for him to enter. He knew who it was. 

When Merlin entered the room, he almost forgot his resolutions. The King wore a shirt open enough that the sorcerer could catch a glimpse of his bare chest. He was sitting wearily in his chair, breakfast already finished, and set aside what he was reading the second Merlin entered. Somehow, moments with Arthur brought the energy of a dangerous game. Both felt the cruelty of being in a world insufficient to contain the magnitude of their desires.

“Come here,” said Arthur, low.

Merlin approached quietly, but not hesitantly. Every day it was easier to abandon himself to the fall. Arthur pulled back his chair then grabbed Merlin’s wrist to pull him onto his lap, straddling him. He kissed him, his hand on the nape of his neck to press their lips together harder. 

“You couldn’t wait more than a few hours, could you?” he whispered, huskily.

Merlin wanted to agree, to fall at his King’s feet,* but he kept a semblance of control. “I just wanted to be by your side this morning.”

Arthur chuckled and kissed him again, eyes full of tenderness. “I didn’t get much sleep. I would have preferred you to be here.” 

“You know why we can’t.” 

“Yes. But that got me thinking—”

“Wow. Are you sure?” He whispered, faking a surprise. 

He lightly pinched Merlin’s cheek, grunting in disapproval. “Hear me out. I actually thought about you... how you have been by my side for so long, burdened in the dark with my quests. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been for you. Being my servant, my friend, but also my secret guardian.”

"Yeah..." Merlin wanted to run far away from that Pandora’s box, too fragile to open it.

“You always say you are here for me. But I want you to know, I am here for you also. You don’t have to carry all of that burden alone anymore. I always thought mine was solitary too, but clearly not.”

Merlin, softened, went to meet rosy, warm lips. Their tongues brushed, dancing like they were trying to court each other. That was Merlin’s first impulse on how to say thank you, because words weren’t enough. Arthur’s hand descended to the small of Merlin’s back while the sorcerer gripped his blonde hair to deepen their connection.

For so long, the kind of love Arthur exuded was one that demanded Merlin wear a mask.

“And now, my lord, what do you want of me?” Merlin breathed between kisses. 

Arthur knew that this spoke not only of the present. “Anything you want to give me.”

“If you want a sorcerer, I will fight anything that comes our way.” Merlin’s chest rose from the tingling that made him so honest and focused on the energy of the moment.

Arthur kissed him, hard, hands digging into the pale skin of the raven-haired man. He gripped Merlin’s backside and said, with conviction that could have shaken the most quiet piece of earth. “If you want a king, I’ll step into battle for you.”

Merlin gasped and kissed Arthur’s neck. “If you want a servant, I’ll go on my knees to polish your boots.”

The King failed to contain a grumble of arousal, but then, words slipped from his mouth, too much time contained to stop them. He squeezed Merlin tighter, as to stop him from escaping if it was too much. “If you want a partner, I'll give you my hand to stand by your side.”* 

Merlin grinded his hips, the friction making both of them moan. “If you want a lover, I’ll do anything you ask me to.”*

Arthur met the warlock's gaze and breathed out, a vulnerable admission he could no longer reject: “So will I.” 

The next minutes were just them existing in this quiet, warm room—no chaos, no obligations, or threats. The reality of them was just enough. They inhaled the life of this reality, exploring softly, then deeply, the heat of their lips, the different touches of their hands, and the sounds that followed. Sometimes, even the room itself seemed to disappear. Both were reaching a point where they could no longer wait to become one, but this morning would have been too hurried, too short for the heights of what they were meant to create. 

“Ready?’’ Finally, asked Merlin.

“Yes.’’ 

*************

King Lot arrived, carried on a litter by his knights. That alone gave Arthur an idea of the kind of man who would step out. A big belly, eyes of disdain, and a desire to prove he was better—because deep down he was just worthless—only proved the point. What no one expected, however, was the woman who followed him: his daughter, Lysandra. She had long strawberry blonde hair and irises as dark as night; her pale skin contrasted with her dark red dress. Overall, she seemed confident, sharp, and ready for anything.

Immediately standing by King Lot's side were two men: one in armor and one in a simple tunic. The knight had a prominent nose and greying black hair. Despite his age, his strength was evident in his imposing physique. The other man in the tunic had silver hair but the face of a young man. His amber eyes darted around, as if he were trying to find someone in the crowd. He scanned the King of Camelot standing at the foot of his castle stairs with his queen, the knights surrounding them, the servants, and then... his gaze stopped dead on Merlin.

The warlock had already felt his magic; he had been scrutinizing the man long before he was found. Then, blocking this duel of glances, a body interposed itself between them and stepped forward.

"King Lot, a pleasure. I hope your stay here will be to your satisfaction," said Arthur while clasping the King’s arm.

"I hope so too." Lot gestured toward his daughter. "This is my daughter, Lysandra." She bowed slightly but went directly to Guinevere to greet her first.

"My lady, I hope to get to know you better during my stay."

Gwen, surprised to be the first one addressed, stared at the beautiful face in front of her and responded, a bit disconcerted, "So am I."

Their exchange was interrupted by King Lot, who obviously just wanted to get on with it.

“This is Daegan, my court sorcerer.” He pointed to the man in the black tunic, who was slightly taller than the King. The sorcerer bowed with a sardonic smile, showing the tips of his abnormally pointed teeth. He looks like a snake, thought Merlin.

“A pleasure.” Said Daegan.

Instinctively, Arthur turned toward Merlin to introduce him, but realized once again that no single term could define his title, so he preferred to remain silent and grant his attention to George. This hesitation did not, however, escape the curiosity of Daegan and the King of Essetir.

“This is my most efficient servant, George. He will assist you throughout your stay, King Lot and Princess Lysandra. I know you already have your own, but for anything specific to Camelot, he will be of great help.”

“And who might this be?” asked King Lot, looking at Merlin.

“This is my… Merlin. He advises me, guides me, and can sometimes perform the services of a servant.”

King Lot frowned. “He seems quite appropriate and important; why is he not the one serving us?”

Arthur’s jaw clenched. “Because he is not just a servant, and his talents are required by my side.” Realizing that his facial expression might betray him, he added in a falsely warm tone, “He would be too busy to serve you adequately, unlike George.”

“I see.” King Lot still seemed suspicious, his eyes narrowed and analytical. Then his daughter intervened.

“We thank you, Queen Guinevere, King Arthur, for your hospitality and for giving us the help we need.”

“Anything for what I hope will become a friendship,” answered Arthur.

King Lot raised his eyebrows, slightly arrogant. “We’ll see about that.”

**************

Merlin had retired to speak with Gaius once his services were no longer necessary for the King's arrival. He was drinking an herbal infusion, having been silent for several minutes before starting to speak.

“He’s a sorcerer, Daegan,” he said pensively.

“Well, he was introduced as the court sorcerer,” answered Gaius, his tone suggesting the obvious.

“Yes, I know. But he’s not just any sorcerer. His magic... it’s different.”

“More powerful?”

“No, not necessarily. Just different. I have never felt this type of energy before.”

“What does it feel like?” asked Gaius, curious.

Merlin took another sip of his drink, then whispered as if it were forbidden to speak such words, his voice almost shaking at the memory of that dreadful feeling.

“Like an uncanny, overwhelming hand was gripping my insides.”

“I know who he is.” Helmar stepped out of the shadows. “I saw everything from the crowd.”

“Who is he?” asked Gaius.

“I’m not sure anymore.” Helmar frowned, looking defeated. “But I knew him as a druid from my home. A gifted apprentice with great power. He didn’t talk much, but he came to our group around ten years of age—a bit later than usual for those who demonstrate abilities during childhood. Some of the other druids gave him a rough time for it, but he always just stayed... silent.”

“Where did he come from?” questioned Merlin.

“I don’t know. We found him, and he claimed to have forgotten much. And how could a ten-year-old child lie so easily?”

The physician exhaled and pinched his lips together. “If he is not who you thought, and if in the worst-case scenario he is a traitor... what upper hand would he have?”

“He knows that Merlin is Emrys, and he knows about the prophecy. I shared what I had seen with the other druids. Never would I have imagined that one of them would be untrustworthy. I am sorry, Emrys.”

Merlin shook his head. “You didn’t know; you had faith in your people. That is not your fault. But I fear that now you must go. If he sees you, he'll know that I have a head start, and it's possible he might move against you as well.”

Helmar stepped closer and placed his hand on Merlin’s shoulder. “I want to serve you, Emrys, regardless of the risks.”

Merlin couldn’t bear the idea of risking, again, another person’s life. “I know, but I don’t want you to. Go back to your people. You have done enough for me, for Camelot. I will never forget it.”

The druid seemed to battle with his thoughts and devotion before answering. “I understand, thank you, Emrys.” He squeezed Merlin’s shoulder, his gaze deep and meaningful with gratitude. “But I must warn you of one last thing.” He withdrew his hand, leaving Merlin curious about what more could be added to everything he had learned in the past days. “While fighting the King, he parried in a way that no simple mortal could.”

“Arthur is a great warrior,” Merlin added quickly, as if it were simple common knowledge.

“He was not just great; he was impossible.” He paused, hesitating on how much he should reveal. “I had a strong intuition that this was linked to you, Emrys. It could shed light on the prophecy. But I can say no more; I do not want to speak in suppositions, nor change what already is. You need to figure it out; you must be attentive.”

Merlin refrained from rolling his eyes; he had thought that once Morgana was dead and Arthur was King, he would no longer have to face so many riddles. However, he contented himself with thanking Helmar, giving him some provisions for the journey, and telling him he could return if he ever felt the desire.

************

Once the rooms were assigned, the plan for the evening presented, and the castle tour completed, Arthur retired politely, giving his guests some space. Deep down, what he wanted most was to meet with Merlin to get his perspective.

The look shared between Merlin and Daegan hadn't escaped him, nor had the suspicious tone of King Lot. Furthermore, denying that Merlin's opinion was relevant was a thing of the past—especially now that he knew how the warlock had held the greatest knowledge in secret for so many years while Arthur faced his greatest trials.

He was on his way to Gaius’s chambers when he saw Merlin walking toward him. The warlock didn’t notice him right away. Arthur really hadn’t planned on doing anything, but he couldn’t help it. Not touching him, right now, felt like dying all over again. When Merlin finally saw that deep expression, he stopped walking, several feet away. Arthur looked around him, and Merlin knew that he was trapped the second his King advanced promptly toward him.

Really, every time they saw each other, they knew they had important things to discuss, that their cravings were not important, but everything else seemed so futile. And yes, part of them loved that feeling. So, when their tongues met as soon as their lips touched, all they could feel was a fire in their belly, one they just wanted to ignite even more to melt their bodies together. Arthur encircled Merlin’s body with his strong arms, while the warlock’s found their favorite place, tangled in the King’s hair. Arthur couldn't help but smile against Merlin’s lips, who couldn't repress one in return. It was just ridiculous how much they needed each other, they both thought. Arthur pressed his body forward to push Merlin toward a wall but the servant stopped him.

“Arthur, this is the worst idea. King Lot is here, and we are in a very public display.”

Arthur stopped himself but kissed him again. “How I wish to display this, so everyone would know who has the claim on those lips.”

“You are…” Merlin hesitated, but still gave him a peck, “ridiculous. And I need to talk to you, seriously.”

Arthur looked at him, tender. He murmured in a husky voice, “Alright.” He grabbed Merlin by the shoulder, shaking him a little. Both had wide smiles on their faces, as they made their way to the King’s chambers.

**********************

Even when discussing matters, they just couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Before, they would have sat on opposite chairs, or one of them would have remained standing. Now, Arthur pulled them toward the bed to collapse face to face, kissing him again. It was neither royal, nor appropriate, nor mature.

“So, you want me to tell you about deeply serious matters... on the bed?”

“Yes. That way I’ll actually be able to concentrate instead of thinking about how much I wish I’d brought you here.”

“That’s particularly transparent of you, my lord”

Suddenly, Arthur felt vulnerable and made a move to get up. “You’re right, we can just talk like usual.”

Merlin held him back. “I didn’t say I hated it.”

Arthur’s look of victory almost made the warlock change his mind, but he let it slide, fearing that any movement would make this unbelievable amount of affection disappear. Merlin fiddled a part of Arthur’s collar, took a deep breath, and told him what Helmar had shared—and what he had felt when he saw Daegan. cor

Arthur brushed Merlin’s cheek and said gently, “I saw him looking at you. Do you think he is a threat to Camelot, to you?”

“I don’t know yet. I bet he will probably come find me tonight; then I will know more.” Arthur’s pulse was starting to race as Merlin continued. “What worries me is how Helmar sounded surprised, like it was a betrayal.” Arthur had to put everything he had in motion to hear Merlin over the beating sound of his heart and the feeling of his skin burning. “He knows about the prophecy, so we need to be prepared for what King Lot and him could do with that knowledge, if he’s not here for peace.”

The King clenched his teeth, his eyes averting. “If they try…” His grip tightened as it reached the back of Merlin’s head. “Anything’’ He paused, “to hurt you, to take you away from me.” He looked Merlin directly in the eyes, the warlock seeing deeper into Arthur, like the King was no longer able to hide beneath the veil, the lethal impulses that inhabited him. “They’ll wish they had the limbs to crawl back to the horrible grip of their nightmares.” At the coldness of his voice, a small part of Merlin’s mind wondered if the day would come when he would have to stop his own King—and whether he could bring himself to do it.

Chapter Text

Merlin had to fight with his words to have Arthur agree to let him handle Daegan alone. All arguments were used by the King: 

Merlin, I’m the King. 

Merlin, you can’t even bring me breakfast properly. 

Merlin, I don’t want you to fail our opportunity to have peace. 

Merlin, what if he hurts you? 

Merlin, what if I lose you? 

That last fear was only heard a thousand times in the King’s mind. In the end, the warlock won by explaining it was an opportunity to prove to Arthur he could handle this, and that he had handled much more in the past without the approval of Arthur. So really, what could the King say? If he said no, it was like he didn’t trust Merlin at all and that he didn’t recognize everything his servant had done for him. So naturally, he agreed as Merlin promised to tell him everything after, or notify him if the court sorcerer of Essetir threatened him.

“Scared, Your Highness?” asked Merlin as he made his way to leave the King’s chamber, half a smile showing through—a way to tease the King, but also to push him toward having better confidence in the situation.

“Pfft, never.”

“Of course. A King is never scared. No emotions at all.”

Arthur let out a short laugh, ready to reprimand the servant, but then, another part of him seemed to make its way into his heart. He found himself moved, looking up to Merlin in silence as longing eyes almost shone. He bit his lips, repressing a fond smile, and softly responded with a lie he didn't try to hide.

“No, no emotions at all.”

Merlin was lost for words and wet his lips as he breathed: “See you tonight, my lord.”

Arthur nodded once. “See you tonight, Merlin. Wear something nice.”

************

Something nice. Merlin tucked his hair back as he looked at the dark blue tunic with embroidery, the one that Gwen described as for “special occasions.” The only one that really made him uncomfortable as it was, in his opinion, out of his league of refinement. He tried it on and went to see Gaius. Gaius thought for an instant that he looked like a child sulking after being forced into a task.

“I feel ridiculous.”

“You look good, my boy. A lot of people will be even more elaborately dressed. No one will notice.”

“I hope so.”

“You deserve what place you’re growing into.”

“I feel like an impostor.”

“You are not. You did so much without any recognition. I think you feel like this because you are starting to be seen.”

“It doesn’t feel right.”

“Years of silent wins are a quiet place. Nothing is wrong with it, just as nothing is more right for you than to get a bit more open recognition.”

Merlin chuckled. “Wise. Thank you, Gaius.”

*************

“To King Lot, and the Kingdom of Essetir! In the hope for us to become great allies and promote peace in Albion!” Arthur raised his wine glass along with Guinevere, the knights, nobles, and all of the Essetir folks.

Lysandra was warmly smiling, the opposite of her father whose smile seemed forced. As Arthur sat down, the King of Essetir spoke louder: “You are most welcome on our journey here. We also hope Camelot will align with our Kingdom.”

As everyone started to talk and enjoy the festivities, Arthur’s hearing went almost quiet as his attention went back to a certain dark-haired man in a blue tunic. He was sitting with the knights, who were obviously teasing him, judged by the redness on his cheeks and on the pale skin of his throat. The dark blue brought out his eyes, contrasting with the milk of his skin which Arthur thirsted to lick. He had the urge to grab Merlin’s hair that was getting longer and lunge onto his throat, unbothered by the audience, even wanting to make them gasp at the display—marking them with the image of Merlin being owned by his King. His expression must have betrayed him, and he realized he was biting his lips hard as Gwen’s voice startled him.

“Arthur, remember where you are and what role you must do tonight.”

He breathed in, putting on his mask again. “You are right, sorry.”

“By the way you look at him, I don’t know if it’s going well or terribly wrong.”

The King chuckled. “It’s going well. Thank you.”

“I’m glad.” Gwen was silent for a moment before asking: “What’s your opinion about King Lot’s daughter?”

“She seems different from him in a lot of ways. She gives off something strong-willed. But I am nonetheless wary; a first impression is rarely the right one. Look at me and Merlin.”

“I’m pretty sure part of you liked that he challenged you.” Gwen took a sip from her glass. “In fact, I think it’s him who hated you in the beginning.”

“Guinevere! That is totally false!”

They both laughed until a low and warm feminine voice asked: “May I have this dance?”

The Princess of Essetir was standing in front of them, now in a dark green dress that made her strawberry blonde hair stand out even more.

“If my Queen gives me permission, of course,” answered Arthur.

She smirked. “In fact, it is you, my lord, who shall give me permission to dance with your Queen.”

Gwen’s doe eyes went to Arthur, then Lysandra. “Whatever the Queen wants,” answered the blonde man, amused.

“So what will it be, Queen Guinevere?” Lysandra held out her hand to her, waiting as Gwen seemed to hesitate.

Gwen stood up from her chair gracefully and took the Princess’s hand. “It will be my pleasure.”

As they slowly went to the middle of the room, both of them chatted while the King took one last glance before his gaze went back to Merlin, who seemed to have disappeared. Knights were still laughing, Gwaine was charming a lady, Percival and a knight of Essetir were battling in an arm-wrestling contest—but the warlock was nowhere to be found. Arthur clenched his teeth, took a big gulp of his wine as he remembered that he had to trust Merlin, that he could handle whatever he was doing. George went to fill his cup again and then went back to King Lot to serve him as best he could, even if the man seemed insufferable and rude. 

What if Daegan was even more insufferable? What if he tried to hurt Merlin? Arthur abruptly stood up, ready to go look for his warlock, and then sat again, fighting against himself. He looked at Guinevere having fun with the Princess and thought that he, too, should distract himself. Maybe talking to King Lot in a more relaxed context could be a good idea to start creating a bond.

****************

Merlin knew he had to step out of the festivities so that Daegan would follow him. He went far enough for the sound of the party to diminish, without moving too far away as Arthur had demanded. He stopped dead in the middle of the corridor, feeling—without surprise—that he was not alone.

“I know you are here.”

Without turning around, he heard a few footsteps quietly approaching him, until finally, a body stood to his left.

“Emrys,” he breathed.

Merlin turned to face Daegan and raised his eyes toward the man, who was a bit taller than he was. “Daegan, is it?”

“Yes. I’m sure Helmar had great things to say about me.” The corner of his lips twitched slightly.

Merlin was a bit disturbed to hear Helmar’s name. He didn't understand how Daegan knew the Druid had come to Camelot and that he had been in contact with him. He had asked Helmar to leave to protect him, but also to have the upper hand. Merlin tried to keep his calm and not let his surprise show. Maybe the grey haired man didn't even truly know that Helmar had actually talked to him, and it was a trick. So, Merlin frowned like he was confused and deflected the conversation.

“What do you want?”

Daegan circled Merlin slowly, taking a few steps around him that echoed in the empty corridor, scrutinizing the man who was trying to look relaxed.

He stopped behind Merlin and whispered in a way that made the warlock shiver from uneasiness: “You are quite beautiful, like a fae.” Merlin felt a finger brush the back of his neck. “Of course, I was expecting greatness from Emrys himself, but not in terms of beauty.”

As much as Merlin’s magic was shouting to shove him against the nearest wall, he contained himself and took a step forward to distance himself, then turned to face the Druid again. “If you are trying to rile me up, to make me feel like you have all the power here, you must not really know who I am.”

Daegan offered him a crooked smile. “So, straight to the point then?”

“Yes, please.”

“And even begging.”

“Just being polite.”

The druid seemed amused. “King Lot wants me to ask the great Emrys a question, even if I know the answer.”

“Why do I suspect that he doesn’t know the face behind the name?”

“For now. I really wanted to have this advantage and be the first to talk to you. I am still a Druid above all; it is an honor. But, with the way King Arthur is behaving around you, King Lot will figure it out soon—maybe before I have the chance to tell him.”

Merlin ignored the last comment. “Your magic doesn’t feel like a Druid’s.”

Daegan smiled, avoiding the statement. “The King wants you to join him. Join us.”

“What for?”

“We won’t tell before you join us, of course.”

Merlin looked at him like he was an utter fool. He even wondered if Daegan knew about the prophecy at all, if he knew who he was. Because if he did, he wouldn’t ask such a stupid thing. Thinking he could abandon Arthur—what a joke. He still tried to know more, letting out a chuckle but containing a full-on laugh. “What’s in it for me?”

The court sorcerer sighed. “Lands, jewels, power, and all those glorious things King Lot thinks everybody wants. I know what you think, Emrys. I know you will say no whatever we propose to you, but even if I warned him, he urged me to do so.”

“Why are you even the court sorcerer for this King?”

“Do not underestimate him; he has his strengths. It is not for nothing that he managed to keep his power without any alliance. And I, have my own reasons.”

“And those reasons—are they about Jakar?”

“So many questions. Want to officially leave the night and talk about it in my private room?”

“You know my answer; you are just trying to change the subject. That tells me enough for now.” Merlin moved past him, ready to leave, but Daegan caught him by the arm.

“Eager to return to your King's side?” Merlin’s eyes flashed gold, but he said nothing. “Let me appreciate you as you deserve,” added Daegan. 

“Not going to happen, and I’m sure we don’t have the same definition of the word appreciation.” Merlin pulled his arm back abruptly and walked quickly to return to the festivities, leaving Daegan and his sardonic smile alone in the corridor.

**************

Arthur had been chatting with King Lot for minutes. At first, they exchanged words on how the journey to Camelot had been. The King of Essetir did not hesitate to criticize the single attack—very minimal, according to Arthur—that had taken place by bandits. The bearded man shared his way of reigning which basically reflected one thing: frightening everyone into submission. 

Obviously, Arthur bit his tongue for the evening instead of arguing that the people of Essetir were not only frightened, but would eventually want to leave their country—which could create riots and a smaller population as they left for other kingdoms, reducing its overall strength. And this was just a polite way of expressing that the way Lot treated his people was an offense to the title of King.

Finally, their conversation led to the subject of hunting, which seemed like the only thing they had found in common outside of being kings. Arthur had managed to draw a brief laugh from the King of Essetir following a hunting story. Then, his gaze fell upon Merlin, who had just re-entered the banquet hall, and their eyes met, stopping Merlin in his tracks. Arthur could read a flicker of emotion behind the blue of his eyes, but Merlin nodded once to reassure him. Daegan followed, then came to a halt beside Merlin. He hadn't missed the silent exchange between the two men. Casting a vicious look at Arthur, he turned toward Merlin, gripping the smaller man's hip to pull him close and whisper something in his ear. Merlin looked at Arthur again, brushed the druid’s hand away, and moved past him to head toward his seat with the other knights. Daegan watched him go, running his tongue over his canine tooth, looking smug and perfectly aware that Arthur was looking at him. Indeed, the blonde King was no longer listening to King Lot; he didn't even know if the man was still speaking to him. What was happening in front of him felt distant at first, but when the full weight of the scene reached the core of his being, he bit the inside of his lip so hard that it began to bleed. His nails had dug into his palms long before he actually felt the sting.

“My court sorcerer seems close to your… Merlin, was it?” King Lot had followed Arthur’s gaze from the start.

“Yes.” Without thinking, Arthur stood up abruptly, his attention never leaving Daegan’s position. He took long, heavy strides, aggressively wanting to reach the druid. Fortunately, the noise of the festivities ensured that only Guinevere, Lysandra, the knights, and Merlin noticed what was going on.

Gwaine left his flirting and put a hand on Arthur’s chest to stop him in his tracks. “What are you doing?” he whispered.

Arthur had the reflex to reach for his sword to confront the person stepping in his way, but he stopped when he realized this person wasn't a threat—it was Gwaine, a trusted knight, a friend.

“Gwaine.” The knight felt a hand on his shoulder as he heard Merlin’s voice. “I’ll talk to him.”

Arthur shook his head, as if trying to shake off what was consuming him. 

“Please follow me, my lord.” And Merlin was really begging this time.

*************

They slipped out of the banquet as subtly as they could. Once outside, Arthur grabbed Merlin’s hair and pushed him against a wall. As he leaned in to kiss him, he was stopped.

“Arthur, no.” Merlin pulled away. “What are you doing? Almost beating up a member of the court of Essetir for no reason, in front of everyone? In front of your people who trust and believe in you? In front of a King you wish to ally with!”

“It’s not for no reason. He touched you.”

“And that is enough to destroy what you’re trying to build?! People will touch me, people will want to kill me, and I will have friends! You cannot control it all, Arthur! Are you a child?”

“Merlin, I am your King! You cannot speak to—”

“I always have, and I know right now this is much more than what you are used to, but so are you! Are you really my King, or a man guided by a lack of self-control? You are better than them—better than Daegan, better than King Lot.”

“Then why won’t you kiss me?”

Merlin couldn’t believe that was what came from the King. “If a kiss is what you need to understand, maybe you don’t even deserve it.” Merlin remained silent, breathing hard, then added, “I’m worried about you.”

Arthur took his head between his hands briefly, realizing everything that had been said and how impulsively he had replied. He was almost trembling; he was trying to tame something deeply buried while still attempting to be the same King he had always been.

“I know. You are right.” His breathing was jagged. “Since you… dug me up from my grave… all I see first is you. I’m worried someone will take you. I hate seeing them touch you.”

Merlin wanted to speak, but Arthur silenced him with a gesture. “And I know, it is childish. And above all else,” he approached quietly to caress Merlin’s cheek, “I fear someone might hurt you… And I always felt those things. Always. But now, it’s just so… there.”

He stepped back, held out his right hand, as if grasping at the air. “There’s me before, a married King who wants the best for his Kingdom, who wants to make his father proud and be better” then he showed his left one, “and me after. A King who still wants that, but finally sees how he wants… you. Maybe even more than everything else, as much as it drives me mad.’’

“Now tell me, how do I put them both together?” His fists crushed hard together. “How?” He sounded desperate, eyes glassy, asking the universe for an answer no one could give. 

During all those years, Merlin had seen Arthur in fist battles, in sword duels, and caught in the hesitation between his father and his conscience, or between Gwen and the nobility. But never had he seen him battling himself so hard, and it seemed like Merlin was the fuel for that fire. So, all he could do was follow his impulse to pull Arthur into a hug. It was an embrace so intimate, so reassuring, that they had never experienced anything like it before.

“Let me help you understand. Let me be your anchor.”

Arthur pulled him even closer once the surprise passed. After a minute, Merlin stepped back slightly to kiss him.

“I am yours, Arthur Pendragon, whatever happens. Have been for years. Remember this moment when people make you doubt something you should not.”

Arthur’s lip curved. He tried not to be so self-conscious about his massive breakdown and stepped back slightly to distance himself, but Merlin held him back. “Don’t hide. I’ve seen worse, and I’m here.”

The King looked at the ground and braced himself. “Alright.”

“Shall we go back, and actually act like we want to be there? I’ll tell you all about my encounter with Deagan tomorrow, until then, trust me there is nothing urgent.”

“I agree, but tonight I want you to come see me, show me you are mine, just like you said.’’ 

It was an order Merlin didn’t want to deny. “I will.’’

Arthur looked at Merlin’s lips. His lips. He ran a thumb over it. His lips. ‘’Can I kiss you again?’’

Merlin nodded, so the King did not hesitate to bring their mouths together, though the kiss wasn't as long as he truly craved, still hesitant to ask for too much.

“Sometimes I wish it would just be you and me.”

“I think you will be annoyed after some time.”

“Probably.” Arthur finally laughed and followed Merlin who slowly made his way back to the festivites—or rather, decided to walk the same path as him because he was the king. 

**************

They spent the last hours of the night apart, Arthur apologizing to King Lot with a passable excuse that the leader of Essetir was too drunk to question, and Merlin avoiding Daegan. He had quickly reassured Gwen about Arthur before asking her, “You seem to be having a good time with Princess Lysandra. Am I wrong to think she is different from her father?”

“Yes! From what I saw, she is. But it could all be an act.”

“Does it seem like it?”

“No, but... I don’t want to fool myself. I mean, because of the kingdom, of course.”

“Of course.” Merlin looked at her suspiciously and decided to let it go for tonight as he made his way to Gwaine, who gestured for him to take another cup of mead with him.

***************

It was about midnight when Merlin reached Arthur’s room. He was nervous; a part of him felt like if he stepped into the room, there would be no going back. The King was looking out the window, his tunic already on the floor, leaving his muscular back bare to Merlin’s eyes. The King was gone, making room again for the man. 

The air was thick; the aura was heavy. As Merlin closed the door, Arthur slowly turned, leaning against the stone windowsill. As their eyes met, pupils blown, everything was more than heavy. It was deliciously asphyxiating in all the right ways. Now that all the negative emotions from before had fallen away, it really was just the two of them.

“You did dress nice. Maybe too nice for others to see.”

Merlin took a step toward Arthur. “I followed your recommendation, Your Highness.” As desire took over, it was like something in Merlin shifted. He didn’t want to argue his position as servant and Arthur’s as king. 

Arthur growled. “You look... delicious.” He pushed himself away from the window, taking a step of his own as the light and shadows of the fire caressed every part of his body. “Take it off.”

Merlin felt his dick twitch at the order and lifted his tunic.

“More,” Arthur ordered.

Merlin’s chest was heaving, his heart pumping through his entire body. He pulled off the rest, standing completely vulnerable before Arthur, who advanced toward him like a predator. Arthur placed a hand on Merlin's hip. “At least I am the only one who gets to touch you without any clothes.”

“Yes,” Merlin whispered.

Arthur pulled Merlin flush against him, his hand firm on his hip, and Merlin followed easily, like a magnet. “Do you know what I want tonight?” he whispered into the warlock's ear. Merlin nodded slowly, words stuck in his throat. “Do you want it too?” added Arthur. 

Merlin answered again without words.

“I need you to tell me, Merlin.”

“I want you.’’

Their eyes met as time seemed to suspend, Arthur searching for any hesitation but finding none. Then, the collision of their lips put everything in motion again. Arthur sucked on Merlin’s tongue as he grabbed his bare ass hard enough that a slap resonated through the room when the rough skin of his hand connected with the smooth skin. He lifted Merlin easily and threw him onto the bed. Arthur stripped off his own briefs before diving once more onto Merlin’s lips. Both of their erections brushed, making Merlin moan and Arthur grunt into each other's mouths. Arthur pressed his body further against Merlin to intensify the friction of their excitement, then left Merlin’s mouth to paint the skin of his jaw, neck, and collarbone with small bites and kisses. 

The warlock arched his back, moaning Arthur’s name when he felt a pinch on his nipples, teeth playing with them without any shame. Arthur’s mouth seemed to want to enjoy the feast in front of him in its entirety. Like he had too many options he hadn’t been able to touch for so long, he wanted to taste everything. And that "everything" earned him moans and begging—Merlin was overwhelmed by being wanted, by being chosen by Arthur. They didn’t want to question what the admissions of the past few days meant; they just wanted to continue breathing in this discovery, the heaving weight in their chests lifting, now flirting with the hunger to consume it all right now. Their hands brushed skin, grabbing at whatever they could; it was almost too much. They knew the point they had reached. Suddenly, Merlin’s breath hitched; he tried to swallow his words but failed. 

“Arthur…”

The King looked at him. Merlin’s captivating eyes spoke of the sweet pain over the last years —one that was a bliss, a curse that the sorcerer now could only adore.

“I—” His voice broke.

Arthur pressed his forehead against Merlin’s. “I know,” his voice was rough. His breathing was jagged, fear in his stomach mixed with an urge to yell what he felt, a knot in his throat that held it all in. To hell with it. “I do too.” He finally managed to confess. 

Moved, Merlin gently caressed the lips of this confession with his own, both men inhaling the words left unsaid but fully understood.

“Please, take me,” Merlin murmured. “Show me how much I’m yours.”

Arthur’s pupils were so dilated his gaze was almost black. 

He kissed the sorcerer again. “Finally begging for me”. He reached for a bottle of oil on his bedside table and poured a few drops on his fingers. Then, leaving a trail of kisses and tongue on Merlin’s thigh, he ended up teasing his length with his tongue as one finger went slowly into his entrance. To make him forget the intrusion, wanting to make this experience the most pleasurable, Arthur began to take Merlin into his mouth.

The sorcerer was grabbing at the sheets, and when he started to rock back against Arthur’s… everything.

Arthur added a second finger. A small sound escaped Merlin’s mouth.

“Are you alright?” Arthur asked.

“You will know if I’m not.” His voice was shaking, trying to prove he still had some semblance of control. “Don’t forget, I could just fling you across the room.”

The King chuckled. He loved how Merlin chose to submit to him, what he was willing to do for him. He returned to the task of drawing every possible sound from Merlin with his mouth and his fingers. He made circles inside the heat, already imagining how it would feel to be fully inside, his own length gorged with anticipation. His tongue swirled around Merlin’s length, teasing, discovering the weight of him in his mouth all over again.

“Oh god, Arthur... I don’t want to cum right now.”

“You won’t. Control yourself.” That order did nothing to calm Merlin’s arousal; instead, it made him ache to be good for Arthur. The blonde withdrew his mouth, mercifully, until he added a third finger that hit the exact spot, sending a shock expanding through Merlin’s lower back. Arthur's free hand gripped Merlin’s thighs hard, still watching every reaction he drew out of him, relishing the fact that he was the one provoking them.

After a minute, neither could hold out a second longer without fading into each other.* Arthur aligned his erection with Merlin’s demanding heat.

“Don’t worry, you'll be able to take it,” he whispered with a wink.

“I wasn’t—” Merlin was cut off by a whimper as he felt the tip enter him slowly.

The anticipation was too much. To restrain himself, Arthur had to grip Merlin’s thighs even harder, bruising the delicate skin, his nails scraping. When he saw tears in the warlock’s eyes, he bit his own tongue hard.

“Arthur…” The want in that small wail was indescribable. Arthur looked past the tears and found a dark pleasure, a soul asking to be completely carried away by the desire of his King. It struck a chord in Arthur’s being that felt rightfully fulfilled.

“Three taps if it’s too much. You know what to do if I cannot stop.” That was all he could manage before he buried himself deep within Merlin—where he belonged after so many years. He groaned, attaining a relief he didn’t know he needed. It was a satisfaction beyond everything else: beyond being crowned, beyond winning battles, or making peace.

Then, he fucked as if he wanted to wage war as much as win it. Arthur withdrew almost fully before hitting the depths of him again. He did it once, twice, until Merlin lost count. The sensations were so new that the warlock felt like his eyes had rolled behind his skull; he could barely see, he could only sense everything. He was slowly coming apart as he went blind.* His back arched so sharply he feared his magic would escape and burn the mattress.

“What a greedy hole,” Arthur panted, pounding harder. “Just a whore for my cock, not letting me go.”

The raven-haired man let out a sob, only confirming how much he loved being pulled apart by Arthur. The King hammered into him with a harsh strength—one that might have surprised Merlin coming from a normal man, but he was too lost to think about it. 

For Arthur, he had never experienced such completion, such primal warmth, as if water were no longer what he needed to survive.  His grip on Merlin’s slim body didn't relax until he lowered himself to kiss his lover’s open lips.

“Look at me,” he grunted. Merlin’s gaze crossed the gloom of the King’s eyes. “Only. Ever. Me.” He marked his words with a thrust before putting a hand on Merlin’s neck, bracing himself to ram into him even more ferociously.

Merlin could not breathe, and he did not want to. He had never felt more alive than in this lack of oxygen and overwhelming surrender. Every thrust pushed him further into oblivion. A sensation of release flooded his mind, chills taking his lungs, magic coursing through his veins. He moaned in ecstasy when he released himself against his own stomach, the heat of it painting them both.

Arthur gave a few more thrusts, the sound echoing in the quiet room, as if hoping the whole Kingdom could hear. He came as his hungry teeth plunged into the nape of Merlin’s neck. A guttural noise escaped him before he finally collapsed.

Merlin could finally breathe again, though he tried to control his gasps for air.

“Are you alright?” asked Arthur, lifting himself up, his voice steadying with a hint of worry.

“You would have known if I really wasn't,” Merlin offered, a reassuring smile on his face, still drunk on the pleasure. “That was… incredible.”

Relieved, Arthur kissed him, melting in the warmth of it. “I’ve never felt… so much.”

“Neither have I.” Merlin frowned slightly. “Well, I haven’t experienced much, but—”

“And you won’t. Unless it’s with me.”

“Of course not. I have the best—a King. What more could I want?” Merlin was emerging from the high of the moment, returning to his sarcastic self, which made Arthur laugh softly.

The King met his lips once again. “Exactly. For once, you are wise.”

Arthur slowly rolled onto his back, smiling. Then, the smile died away as he looked at the ceiling before turning his gaze toward Merlin’s endearing, disheveled body, which was already surrendering to sleep. Arthur swallowed hard, then dared to ask softly, “Aren’t you… scared of what I do?”

Merlin looked at him, seeing behind the veil, and turned to face him fully. 

“There's some kind of night into your darkness.’’*  He kissed Arthur’s cheek. “The night isn’t scary if you learn how to find yourself in it and see how beautiful it can be.”

That admission was so raw, so real, that Arthur couldn't come up with a witty line to deflect or deny it. “I saw your eyes flash the most beautiful gold tonight’’ He paused. “I love looking at you and finally seeing the truth.’’* 

“And I love that I can finally let you see it.’’ Merlin replied softly, as those words meant the world to him. 

Chapter Text

Arthur was the first to wake, the soothing warmth of Merlin against his chest as the warlock breathed slowly. Watching him sleep was like witnessing a rare phenomenon in nature; he felt proud to be the only one chosen to see such a unique sight. That alone made him not regret the words of last night—the ones that had almost allowed them to speak their true feelings. Still, now that they both knew how they felt, what were they now? Arthur didn't want this to be a futile thing belonging to the past, an act that closed a door. For him, it was finally, truly the present. He wanted to live what they could have had all those years, to continue the story that should have been.

Part of him was unaccustomed to having ravished such a pure being, but then flashes returned: how Merlin had begged, moaned, and asked for more through his clouded tears. He scrutinized the man before him again, noticing the bruises from bites and the marks of his hands on Merlin's skin—completely changing the pattern of white, turning it to red, sometimes blue. His guilt was almost erased by the fact that he felt fulfilled, like an artist who had finally expressed himself without restraint. And how he wanted to feel that again. Before he knew it, he was stroking Merlin’s hair, as if trying to apologize, to soothe him. The sleeping man began to wake slowly, eyes fluttering. He looked up to find ice-blue eyes watching him.

“Creep.”

Arthur laughed lightly, warmed by the sight of them together in the morning. “Shut up.” He didn't wait for Merlin to obey; he met his lips in a lingering kiss. “Are you alright?”

“Yes.” Merlin saw Arthur’s hesitation. “I would tell you if I wasn't. Since when do you worry so much about me?”

“Since... years.”

“What?”

“And since I saw the mess I made on your skin last night.”

Merlin’s eyes widened, looking down at the marks he could see on his body. “By the gods, Arthur...” Merlin searched Arthur’s face, hoping for remorse. Instead, he found something else. “You are... proud?!”

Arthur’s grin grew larger. “Can you erase them with magic?”

“Probably, let me—”

“No. Leave them. I just wanted to know.”

Merlin was startled. He knew he likely had marks on his neck as well, where everyone could see. “But—”

“Leave them.” His voice turned colder, more dominant. “It’s an order.”

“Of course.” Merlin looked away, shying from a gaze that gripped him so tightly. He felt a wave of shame at his own arousal—the desperate want to obey—but he was hurt by the sudden coldness.

“I’m sorry.” Arthur exhaled and tilted the warlock’s head gently. “I seem to have lost part of myself again.”

Merlin rolled his eyes and sighed. “You’re such an ass.” He kissed Arthur’s lips once. “I’ll do anything you ask, just don’t make me feel like shit about it, please.”

“I’ll try.”

“I know it’s hard for you to trust me. But like I said before, my magic is for you. It’s yours.”

“As you are mine?” That one was more unsure, almost a question.

“I am my magic, Arthur.”

“Tell me again.”

Merlin thought for a second, then gave a mischievous expression that intrigued the King. He kissed Arthur’s shoulder, then traveled down his chest to finally disappear under the covers. The already hard erection was slowly engulfed by a warmth that drew a groan of surprise from the blonde. He hadn't expected his sorcerer to be so enterprising, and it only made him want to keep this side of Merlin entirely for himself. Nobody suspected what was hidden in their intimacy. He felt a hand on his thigh for support as his cock entered Merlin's throat even deeper, tongue moving in all the right places. Arthur let Merlin lead for a moment, wanting him to be comfortable in this discovery of his sexuality. But fuck, how he wanted to just ram deep into his throat and barely let him breathe. This form of control Merlin allowed him was exhilarating; it nourished something profound within him, finally letting everything else shut out.

“Fuck, Merlin, just like that.”

As his nose brushed Arthur’s skin, Merlin realized how much he loved being praised, and how he loved the weight of his King in his mouth. But one thing was missing. He reluctantly pulled back, out of breath, and rasped: “Arthur...”

Arthur pulled back the covers to see Merlin, to understand his need. Perhaps he shouldn't have, because the image of glossy, wet lips, messy hair, and pleading eyes almost made him cum right away.

“What do you need, Merlin?” he asked softly, his hand finding the dark hair.

“You know...” Shame colored Merlin's cheeks as he bit his lip.

And yes, Arthur did know. The second he looked into those eyes, his suspicions were confirmed. He had hoped they were, once again, perfectly made for each other. “Umm... you want me to take care of everything, don’t you?”

Merlin realized, with how Arthur phrased it, that yes—he wanted Arthur to take charge so he could finally let go. Finally let himself be in the care of someone else, no weight on his shoulders. He nodded as Arthur stroked his hair gently.

“Three taps if you can’t take it anymore. Will you do that for me?”

“Yes,” Merlin breathed, sounding delighted.

“Good boy. You can touch yourself if you want.” The gentle touch in Merlin’s hair turned into a firm grip that guided his head back toward Arthur’s dick. It invaded his mouth and throat until he almost forgot how to breathe. He struggled for seconds, but then, his body remembered how badly he wanted to lose himself into Arthur’s control. After that, the king felt he could go further; he started to buck his hips, leading Merlin’s head by his hair. When the rhythm was steady, Arthur holding his head in place, it gave Merlin the confidence to lift his ass in the air and to allow space to stroke himself. He moaned against Arthur’s shaft, and the blonde was in heaven.

Until a knock disturbed them. George. He had come to wake the King. Arthur looked at Merlin’s horrified expression, himself trying to not panic, but Merlin didn't move from his position, as if waiting for a command. That just eased something into the king’s soul, he could just be pleased from it.

“Don’t you dare take that mouth away.” Arthur said quickly as he lowered the heavy duvet back over Merlin. He bent one knee beneath the covers, breaking the line of Merlin’s hidden body as the warlock flattened himself against the mattress, trying to trust Arthur.

The door opened. “Already awake, my lord?” George made his way inside, the odor of sausage and fresh bread invading the room. “I brought your breakfast. May I help you get dressed for the day?”

Merlin tried to stay perfectly still, his mouth still fully engulfing Arthur's erection as he did his best to remember how to breathe.

“That won’t be necessary. You can put my breakfast on the table. You are free for the rest of the morning.” Arthur sounded too casual for what was happening—perhaps a royal habit, seeming perfectly composed regardless of what was really going on. 

“Are you sure, my lord?”

“It’s an order.” Ah, that was more impatient.

“Of course.” George bowed and headed toward the door. “Let me know if you need anything, Your Majesty.”

Arthur groaned as Merlin's tongue moved slightly. George stopped. “Are you alright, sire?”

The King forced a smile. “Yes. In fact, from now on, I would like you to bring two breakfasts in the morning, no questions asked. Your discretion is one of the things I appreciate most.”

George bowed. “That won’t be an issue. Good day, my lord.”

As soon as the door closed, Arthur pushed the duvet aside. “Are you alright?” Merlin blinked, his mouth still hovering over the cock, breathing hard. “You just want it that much, don’t you, Merlin?”

Merlin almost withdrew to argue, but he resigned himself. What could he say? He was desperate for this; he had been for years. He resumed his position, ass up, touching himself shamelessly, showing everything to Arthur who resumed control. The waves of his hips quickened, fucking into Merlin’s mouth carelessly as he grew impatient for his release. Even with the sounds of choking and the spit drooling from his mouth, Merlin didn’t complain once. He even came hard when Arthur kept him impaled on his dick, holding him still for seconds as he released himself deep down his throat, ordering him to swallow everything. After a few moments, he gripped the warlock's hair to pull him back, freeing him from his now fulfilled erection.

“What the hell, Arthur! What if he had seen us?” Yes, Merlin was trying to care, to be the voice of reason—to not let himself freefall, even if he craved to bury himself deep into that mad desire. 

“What about it?” The freefall was already happening for Arthur.

“You know why it would be wrong; you’re not that dense.”

Arthur shifted their position so he was now on top of Merlin, pinning his hands above his head. “He didn’t see us, because you were good and stayed exactly where I told you.” He nibbled Merlin’s ear and whispered, cocky, “You can be so obedient when you want to be.”

“You’re an ass.” Merlin couldn’t help but smile, hopeless.

They kissed delicately, playfully, and agonizingly lovingly for minutes until Merlin asked, trying to hide his hope, “Two breakfasts?”

“So we can eat together in the morning,” Arthur replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Merlin frowned, so the King continued. “If I can have you in my bed, I will certainly not let you go—at least not before breakfast.” He didn’t give Merlin time to answer and sealed the promise with a kiss. “Now, come and sit with me while I so generously share my meal with you, and you can tell me all about your encounter with that half-young-druid, half-grey-haired-old-fucker of a man you met last night.”

Powerless against these feelings, all Merlin could do was abandon himself to laughter, trying to silence the part of him that whispered he was undeserving.

***********

Merlin told everything to Arthur, and again, it was such a relief to simply speak without fear, choosing how to act together without the weight of lies. Still, Arthur was furious, his heart pounding in his ears as his fist clenched. “He wants you to join them?” He looked incredulous, pacing around the chamber.

“You know I won’t.” Merlin stood up, seeking proximity as he placed his hand on the King's shoulder to stop him.

Arthur turned, eyes wild, now gripping Merlin’s hip to pull him closer as he said through gritted teeth, “You sure as hell won’t. Even if you wanted to, I would make sure you couldn't.”

Merlin shook his head, then took Arthur’s face between his hands. “Hey, you royal dumbass, did you hear what I said?” He searched Arthur's eyes until they met his. “I won’t. I don’t want to, I never wanted to in all those years together, and I won’t ever want to. So don’t think about possibilities that don’t exist—it just makes you angry for nothing.”

Arthur softened. “I know. You are right to remind me. I just fear you would feel freer in another kingdom, one that has accepted magic for longer. One that could offer you the prestige your powers deserve right now.”

Merlin leaned in to kiss the King deeply before saying; “Learn to trust me. I will always choose you, and be happy about it. I don't care about anything else.”

Arthur kissed back, then nodded in agreement. “Now, what do we do?” Merlin added, letting go of Arthur.

“Would it be too obvious for you to act like you wanted to join them?” Arthur asked, still unwilling to let go of the small of Merlin’s back.

It was becoming very difficult for the warlock to concentrate. “Of course. Even Daegan expected my answer; he would see right through the game.”

“Why did he expect it?” His grip tightened, which made Merlin tilt further into Arthur’s body.

Merlin was now buried in the crook of Arthur’s neck, smelling the saltiness of their morning and the scent of fresh pine soap. He didn't move, only whispering: “Arthur… my devotion to you is a known fact. It’s even a prophecy.”

Flashes of all the times Merlin had stayed loyal and confident in him raced through Arthur’s mind. He thought back to their first meeting, all the awkwardness of them just hugging, when in fact, he just didn't want to start something he didn't want to stop. He couldn't get these memories out of his mind.* He kissed the warlock’s hair. “But when we met, you probably hated me. You always insult or question my orders.”

Merlin encircled the King’s neck now, backing up slightly to look him in the eye. “I can have an opinion of my own. A prophecy is not an order; it’s natural, based on who we are and not the other way around. I hated that prophecy in the beginning, but when I got to really know you, I understood why we were meant to be.”

“But you did change me, by challenging… everything.” Arthur’s smirk was one of disbelief, marveling at how this one man—this servant, this warlock—had made him who he was.

“I just pointed to what was already there. And you fought to reach it, to respect your heart, so bravely.”

Arthur’s hands rested around Merlin’s waist, pulling him even closer. “You saw so much, before I even could.”  He now realised even more how much he needed Merlin’s love.* Love still wasn’t the word he used in his own mind, but it was close enough.

Merlin chuckled; he just loved this man so much. So much that it made him doubt himself, wondering when Arthur would say he made a huge mistake, and then all of it would end. They would go back to avoiding each other's touch, hiding behind their different ranks, only finding closeness through banter. For now, Merlin allowed himself to enjoy whatever this was, just a little bit.

**********

After kissing for too many minutes, they both remembered who they were and what they actually needed to do that day. They concluded that, in the best-case scenario, King Lot wanting Emrys as his court sorcerer did not mean war. In the worst case, it did. Lot could be searching for power everywhere, and the way Daegan had avoided answering about Jakar did not help.

At the very least, they expected King Lot to learn or understand who Emrys was very soon—either by Daegan telling him, or simply by witnessing how Arthur and Merlin acted around each other. Merlin, with no clear title, and Arthur, being so openly and overly concerned with him, had surely already given too much away.

They agreed to try and learn more: Merlin would keep an eye on Daegan, and Arthur would stay close to King Lot. But then, for the sake of Camelot and to prevent a fallout, they concluded that the knights needed to know about Merlin’s magic. If anything was going to happen, the knights needed to be prepared, not blindsided by the warlock's power. They needed to be a team, to have the advantage of knowing—contrary to what King Lot and Daegan must have thought. 

“Gwaine already knows,” Merlin said, deciding it was better to be completely honest.

“What? How?”

“He figured it out. He told me a few weeks ago.”

Once again, Arthur questioned himself. How could he have been so blind all those years? He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course he did.”

“If it’s any consolation… I tried so hard to hide it from you that maybe it was easier for him to see, since my only focus was on you.”

“It doesn’t help, but I understand.”

“Yes, of course.” Guilt was written all over the warlock's face and posture.

Arthur moved closer, gently taking Merlin’s wrist to rub the smooth skin with his thumb. “I do understand. At least, I’m trying to.”

Merlin nodded, swallowing his guilt. “Okay.”

**********

The King of Camelot and the King of Essetir were both wearing masks. The only difference was that Arthur was certain of the other king's dishonesty. However, their shared love of hunting forced them into a competition as they chased prey through the forest. Trusted knights of both Kingdoms followed a few feet behind—Gwaine being closest to Arthur, and an older Knight of Essetir with a prominent nose trailing King Lot.

Surprisingly, what made it entertaining was the presence of Lysandra, King Lot’s daughter. She was fast, and even tactical. Something in her reminded Arthur of Morgana, before everything—simply a woman being talented at something ladies were not normally interested in. In the end, the real competition wasn't between King Lot and King Pendragon; it was with her.

“Slacking, King Arthur?” She sat high on her horse, her tone cheeky after catching the last prey, beating Arthur to it.

“Definitely not.”

She smiled before galloping further away on her horse, leaving the two Kings alone on their steeds.

“My daughter is quite a hunter.” King Lot stated. 

“She is. You must be proud.”

“Yes.” At first, his tone almost seemed warm with pride. Then he had the audacity to say: “I love watching what I created act in accordance with who I am.”

Arthur frowned for a second, then put on his mask again with a polite smile. What a narcissistic ass. And Arthur Pendragon knew all about narcissistic fathers—the feeling of never being enough, where everything but the father was the problem. He realized he might have a chance to get the upper hand just by understanding the man's character. “I get it,” he lied.

“Do you?” Anyone who had witnessed him would have thought King Lot was having fun, like a battle of words. Arthur knew better.

“As my father said, it is inspiring to see hard work paying off, even more so if it is a child you molded.” He intended to sound proud, as if he carried the weight of that saying in his heart.

King Lot stayed silent, only humming in approbation. Arthur continued, choosing his words carefully. “King Lot, as you must know, I made magic legal in Camelot not long ago.”

“Of course.”

“I would appreciate your opinion on the possibility of choosing a court sorcerer. You seem to have someone you trust. How did you find that confidence in him?”

King Lot seemed to consider the question, the two of them trotting on their horses like two acquaintances taking a calm moment during the hunt.

“It was actually quite bold, which I didn't dislike. He came to me and asked if he could be my court sorcerer. Of course, I thought it was crazy to ask such a thing when I didn't know him at all. But then, he told me to give him two weeks. If he disappointed me, I had the free will to put his head with my other ones.”

Arthur wished the rumors were false, and that he had hallucinated the words that now confirmed them. “Other heads?”

“Let’s not pretend you haven't heard about my methods, King Arthur. If you do, then I would think you take me for a fool.”

Arthur wondered how King Lot managed to keep such a kind voice while talking about hideous things. It was as if it were nothing, as if it weren’t wrong, dehumanizing every aspect of his reign.

“Of course.” The younger man had caught onto another curious element of what the other King had shared; he couldn’t help but ask. “Didn’t you fear he would betray you during those two weeks? With his magic, he could have done great damage to your reign.”

“Yes, but he handed me cold iron cuffs to put on him. Only to be used for those two weeks.”

“I apologize, my lord, but I am not familiar with that.”

“The one who puts them on a magic user controls them, King Arthur.” He was now smiling, showing his full, crooked teeth. “Wouldn’t you like to put them on your dear Merlin?”

Arthur couldn’t control the clench in his jaw or the surprise in his eyes after such raw words scorched the depths of him. He was too late to deny anything as the King of Essetir galloped faster, his knights following close behind. “I’ll try to find my daughter now. Enjoy the reflection!”

Yes, King Arthur felt overpowered in this battle of minds, and he was haunted by the image of Merlin—on his knees, cuffed, and himself totally confident that his warlock would never, ever leave his side. The thought scraped against something deep in his mind, and he tried to shake off the madness starting to evolve,* as he spurred his horse to go after them.