Seven years after the encounter between Merlin and Arthur, the warlock goes to find his prince as the bells in the tower signal midnight. He slips into the dark chamber of his sire, much like he did seven years before; however, this time, he has no expectations. Arthur must have heard the door squeak, and yet he does not turn around. It has been six months since Gwen left him and he is still a broken man, much like Uther was after the betrayal of Morgana. It occurs to Merlin that Arthur is sitting in the same seat in front of the looking glass when he came to find the prince all those years ago, hoping to tell him of his feelings. He has no such expectations tonight. Merlin walks up to Arthur and puts his hand on his shoulder, half-expecting it to be shaken away. He has endured this time and time again after the departure of Gwen, endless tantrums and displays of anger; yet nothing has persuaded Merlin to leave when others would not have stayed for love or money. Sometimes Merlin hates his own stubbornness, or weakness, depending on how one looks at it.

The hand, however, is allowed to remain and Arthur sighs before continuing to staring at nothing for a long time, until the fire in the grate starts burning low and Merlin leaves Arthur to replenish it. The warlock is stirring the flames with a poker when the prince finally finds his power of speech.

"I am sorry," he whispers.

"Sorry for what?" questions Merlin, his attention still on the fire and the myriad of duties he has yet to perform before he can crawl into bed.

"For torturing you like this for all these years." The azure eyes of Arthur find the dark eyes of the warlock and the prince continues. "You were the unwilling victim of my distorted sense of justice."

"If this is your way of apologising, it must be a first. Shall I seek out a scribe to capture the moment and commit it to paper?" Merlin retreats into the banter which is such a common occurrence between them. The warlock calls the prince a brat or a clotpole, while Arthur insists that Merlin must be the most incompetent servant to ever live.

Arthur, however, is having none of it. He arises from his chair and points to a seat by the fire, commanding the other man to assume it. Merlin does so, but not without hesitation. The prince begins walking back and forth in the room, trying to give voice to his thoughts. "A part of me loved Gwen and will always love her. But I married her because of what she represented, not because of her own personality. Of course, I recognised her innate ablities as queen, understood that she could relate to my subjects better then I ever could. Her down-to-earth approach to life brought me down from the clouds on many occasions."

"You two made a good team," consents Merlin because he believes that is what Arthur wishes to hear.

"But what about you and me?" returns Arthur, stopping to regard his manservant pointedly.

"There never was a you and me," Merlin responds, the bitterness evident in his voice and Arthur flinches at the tone.

"You are not the young boy I once knew."

"Neither are you," quips Merlin and arises from the chair. He no longer wishes to hear what Arthur wants to say and has decided on a hasty exit.

He is stopped when Arthur walks to him and grabs him by the shoulders and gazes into his eyes. "My God, what have I done to you?"

"You killed me." Merlin can no longer endure those prying eyes and extracts himself from the embrace, making a beeline for the door.

"I am sorry," Arthur speaks the words once more, the words Merlin would once have given everything to hear.

In his anger, Merlin turns and grabs a vase from a desk, throwing it in the direction of the king, who barely manages to escape the vassalage. It ends up shattered against one of the walls, much like the heart of Merlin all those years ago. "Sorry is not goddamn it good enough!" he screams, finally venting his anger. "There is nothing you can say that will repair the damage you did. Nothing!"

Merlin turns and his hand is on the doorknob when Arthur speaks, stopping him dead in his tracks.

"I love you."

Slowly, the warlock turns again to face the king and regards him with an inscrutable gaze. He is waiting for what Arthur will do next. The King approches the warlock hesitantly, but then reaches out to cup the face of the other man in his hands. "You must understand, Merlin, how I was raised. My father taught me early to hide my feelings, to sacrifice my own wellbeing for that of the greater good. And I never questioned that, until I met you."

"Therefore, it was at the heart of the matter that I should marry a suitable woman, something which was ingrained in me since birth. The feelings I had for you caught me ultimately by surprise, I had given up on ever feeling anything along the likes of what the poets spoke of until you came along. Annoying, stupide, clotpole, amazing you. But you see, even though I wondered whether you might feel the same, I did not dare act on the matter, until that the fighting the Dorocha, and even then I questioned your true motives."

"You wondered whether I had actually fallen for you or the crown on your head?"

"The little voice in my head told me to distrust you. It was therefore easy at first to use Gwen as a buffer. However, I came to find and recognise her abilities, which made me encourage her advances. Before I knew it, I had gone so far, I had finish the matter. It was a question of honour. I had to fulfill the promises I had made, both to Gwen and Albion. By marrying her, I could kill two birds with one stone. I honestly thought you would forget about me..."

"...you thought wrong, Arthur. You are not the kind of person one forgets."

A smile creased the edges of Arthur´s mouth. "Is that a compliment?"

"I cannot do this," Merlin replies as he turns to leave. "I no longer feel anything for you."

Arthur grabs his wrist and forces the warlock to face him once more. "Look me in the eyes and tell me that. And you will never hear words of love from me again."

Merlin opens his mouth but the words will not come. Soon, his lips are being assailed by those of his king. Merlin tries to fight back, his hands finding their way to Arthur´s tunic and preparing to push him away, but instead his fingers become curled into the fabric as he becomes lost in the kiss. Finally, when the need to breathe becomes a necessity, the two men part.

"I cannot go through this again," Merlin states with surprising force.

"And I can?" returns Arthur, smiling down at his warlock, but Merlin does not smile back.

"If we do this, Arthur, this has to be it. We stand side by side, never to be parted again." The voice of Merlin is not only resolute, but absolute.

"Have we ever truly been without each other?" Arthur runs his fingers through the dark locks of Merlin. "My pride blinded me from seeing the truth for so long until Gwen left and I saw things with horrifying clarity. You and I are not two separate people but two halves of the same soul."

"Soulmates?"

"Yes. Can you live with that?"

"Yes, I think I can," responds Merlin. "And you promise me never to leave me again?"

"Of course, you clotpole," replies Arthur, smiling fondly once more down at Merlin, that special smile reserved for the warlock alone.

And this time, Merlin has no problems smiling back.