"What does it feel like?" Arthur asks.
Merlin takes a moment to answer. "It changes," he replies, "from day to day. Sometimes it feels like there's a fire within me, in the exact center of my body, growing and racing with the magnitude of a thousand stars contained in the space of an atom. It's like there's something in my gut that wants to burst out of me and I want to be torn apart, not because I want to be broken but because I want to be everywhere at once.
"But it's not always like that," Merlin continues. "Sometimes," he says, "it's calm. It's like a candle left to burn in the middle a room at night. It's steady and constant, ever glowing and ever bright. It provides light and guidance when I feel lost. It's quiet but never for a moment do I forget it's there."
"Magic sounds wonderful," Arthur whispers. Merlin smiles.
"I wasn't talking about magic," he says. Arthur looks confused.
"You weren't?"
"No," Merlin says softly, looking adoringly across the bed sheets. "I was talking about being in love."
"Oh," Arthur exhales softly, shifting closer so that Merlin can feel his breath on his lips.
"But they're very similar, magic and love," Merlin says. "If you feel can feel love then you can feel magic, too."
"I do," Arthur replies. "With all my heart."
"Good," Merlin murmurs.
"I like it," Arthur says. "It's magnificent."
"Magic is?"
"No," Arthur mutters, "Being in love."