It was a bad idea from the start.

Arthur said everything would be fine. Merlin called him an idiot. Arthur told him he was free to wait the battle out in their tent. Merlin called him a – a clotpole?

"Is that an actual word?" a young knight asked Sir Leon.

"No, not at all."

Not but about twenty minutes later, they were entering a dark cave where a powerful warlock was suspected to be hiding out. Three knights followed Arthur – and Merlin – and the torches were nothing but fanciful at this point, because they could have tracked the two based on the back-and-forth between them.

"Do you have any idea what you're walking in to?" Merlin asked dryly.

"Not a clue," replied Arthur, without hesitation. "That's why you're here."

"I don't want to be here! This is a terrible idea."

"Sorry, Merlin, where do you want to be?"

"Well, I'd very much like to be back at the castle, in bed, with you, drinking tea and having a l—"

"I would like to go home now too," chimed in the young knight. They didn't hear him. Arthur's ears worked solely for Merlin – on occasion.

The fight itself didn't last long. The moment Arthur stepped into the main portion of the cave, his sword drawn and ready, he was tossed back against the cave wall. Merlin stepped up, entirely defenseless, to protect him, and received the same treatment. While the young knight distracted the warlock with a particularly high-pitched scream, Leon was able to slash a killing blow across his body.

Arthur and Merlin were both out cold. Leon observed them lying in a collapsed pile, Merlin half on top of Arthur, for a brief moment before saying, "Small knight! You carry Merlin. I'll carry Arthur."

Arthur woke up with a pounding headache. Groaning, he raised a hand to touch his skull, feeling it throb at the slightest bit of pressure. His whole body ached horribly. What had happened? What had happened…?

"Merlin," Arthur groaned. "Tell my father I'm staying in today. I have a horrific headache."

The response he received was a groan from beside him. Arthur tilted his head to see Merlin laying on a pile of blankets at his side, curled into an awkward position. A lantern burned faintly between them, so they had to have been there for a while. It cast a weak golden glow across Merlin's pale face. He was stripped down to an undershirt from the waist-up.

Arthur felt his face grow hot, and not because of his proximity to the lantern. He turned to face the other way.

They were in a tent, not a palace. Arthur couldn't remember for the life of him how they got here. Was this one of Merlin's tricks? Arthur was almost sure of it; part of him wanted to kick Merlin awake and make him trudge back to the castle with the tent, while another part of him wanted to take advantage of what must be a secluded area to perhaps… evaluate Merlin on a more personal level.

Fuck. He must have hit his head hard.

He rubbed his hands over his face, wincing at how much it hurt. He hated having these thoughts about Merlin. Merlin, who was a servant and unattainable in just about every single way he could imagine. Who had the audacity to be laying next to him in a secluded wood with a thin shirt on while curled up in a pile of blankets while a lantern cast a romantic glow over his face.

Stupid Merlin.

The moment it was acceptably light outside to get up, Arthur did so. He was immeasurably thankful for morning. He couldn't imagine being able to spend too much longer trapped in a tent with Merlin when he looked like that – sleeping, peaceful, not saying anything annoying, with the perfect lighting and the adorably awkward sleeping position.

Fuck he had a problem.

Sir Leon was already awake when Arthur stepped out of his tent. He perked up when he saw him. "My prince!" he said. "Are you feeling any better?"

Arthur squinted. "Feeling any better? From what?"

Sir Leon chuckled. "Ah, right. It must be difficult to damage that hard head of yours."

Arthur was thoroughly confused, but he was too distraught internally to bother voicing any questions. Part of him wanted to crawl back in his tent and let his body recover from whatever beating he had taken, preferably with Merlin in his arms.

He sat down at the edge of the fire Sir Leon was dutifully tending. "We should probably wake the others and head back for the palace," Sir Leon said.

"That would be wonderful," Arthur agreed.

Sir Leon was looking at Arthur's tent when he said in a faint voice, "When we arrive, it would probably be in your best interest to seek out Gaius."

No, was Arthur's immediate thought. Merlin hung around Gaius. Going to Gaius meant seeing Merlin more, seeing Merlin outside of Merlin's duties to him, seeing Merlin on his personal time like some overtime punishment for Arthur.

Sir Leon must have seen Arthur's expression. "I know you think you're fine," said Sir Leon, "but everyone else can see that you're not. Perhaps you should seek out Gaius, see if he can do anything for you."

Was it really that obvious? Arthur thought, turning to glance at his and Merlin's tent. Was his pining so annoying obvious to everyone that they recommend he seek treatment from the court physician? Then again, maybe Gaius did have an anti-love spell that could cure Arthur of this unbearable heartache yearning for something he could never have. But then he'd have to explain it to Gaius, who, in turn, would use Merlin to help. No.

Arthur's thoughts were cut off when he heard the tent flap pull back and Merlin stumbled out, now dressed in his jacket. Arthur was a bit disappointed that Merlin's arms and collarbones the base of his neck were now away from sight, and then reprimanded himself for thinking that way. Merlin was his servant.

Oh, god, Merlin was his servant. If Arthur did confess his burden, Merlin may feel obligated to return it as part of his duties. Arthur didn't want Merlin to say he loved him out of obligation as his servant. He wanted him to stand with Arthur as his equal. He wanted him at his side by the throne, using his sharp tongue against other diplomats.

And then Arthur was reminded this whole train of thought was useless, because he could never tell Merlin anyway. Merlin was untouchable, unattainable, the one thing the prince wanted and couldn't have.

"Morning, Leon," Merlin grumbled. His voice was rough with sleep and Arthur wanted nothing more than to die, right then and there. This was torture.

Merlin didn't come to the fire. He began to disassemble the tent, and one of Sir Leon's younger knights rushed over to help him. Arthur felt something angry burn in his gut at the sight. Jealousy? He was a prince, he shouldn't get jealous. But he was.

Arthur turned away to gaze into the fire and tried not to hear the small talk going on between Merlin and the knight.

As they rode, Arthur stayed close to Sir Leon. Merlin gave him an odd look as his horse fell into pace beside the younger knight's, and the final knight just behind them. Arthur tried not to meet his gaze and keep his eyes firmly ahead. He tried very hard not to listen to Merlin and the younger knight's conversation, and how they seemed to be bonding over the fact they both had a particular dislike for one of the older knights.

"Are you all right?" asked Sir Leon, in a voice that was far too kind.

"Fine," Arthur said curtly.

Sir Leon looked perturbed with his answer. "Are you sure?" he asked. "We can stop if you need to. I'm sure Merlin could be of assistance—"

"I said I'm fine!" Arthur snapped.

Sir Leon frowned deeply at that, but they continued riding nonetheless.

A part of Arthur wished Merlin and the younger knight had ridden closer to them. A part of Arthur got lost in the fantasy that Merlin heard his outburst, and Merlin took control and ordered the parade to stop. Merlin would grab Arthur's reins and force him down, perhaps lead him over to the woods away from the party. He would inquire as to what was bothering Arthur, and Arthur, between the stress and fatigue and pain, would confess everything, and Merlin would kiss his head first and then his lips and—

He ran into a tree branch.

It did not help the headache.

When they arrived back at the palace, Merlin came over to him and took his reins. It did not get any closer to his fantasy than that. Merlin told him, softly, "Go see Gaius. Your head is all bruised." Then a faint smile crossed his face and he added, "You look worse than I do after getting fruit pelted at me."

Things that did not help Arthur feel better included Merlin's soft, caring expression directed at him, the faintly amused yet beautiful smile that crossed his face and lit his eyes up with a mischievous glow, and the mental image of Merlin bent over with his hands trapped.

Arthur was feeling hopelessly lovesick and helpless, so he did end up knocking on Gaius's door.

Gaius opened it and, upon seeing the prince, gave him a confused look. "What are you doing knocking?" he asked. He glanced around the hall. "And where has Merlin gone off to?"

Arthur said, "I was under the impression knocking was polite."

Gaius scoffed and moved out of the way of the entrance. "How many times do I have to tell you, Arthur," he said, closing the door, "you do not need to knock here."

Once would have been nice. Arthur just sat down on one of Gaius's stools.

"That's quite the bruise," said Gaius, walking over to him. "Did things not go as planned?"

"No," said Arthur. "Not at all."

Gaius reached over and began shuffling through one of his books on the table. "Well, how was the journey other than that?" he asked.

Horrible, Arthur wanted to say. Your Merlin is going to be the death of me. Instead, he simply said, "Merlin."

Gaius chuckled.

Arthur found himself asking, "Does Merlin ever talk to you about me?"

Gaius paused and looked up from his book. "What are you asking about?" he said, peering at Arthur. "Of course he talks about you. It would be quite odd if he didn't."

Arthur found himself sulking as he contemplated that answer. Yes, Merlin would talk about him. He worked for him all day. What else would he talk to Gaius about? That was a stupid question. He needed a better one to gauge how Merlin felt.

Gaius moved over and began to brush his hair back to inspect his head. "Have you been feeling sick at all?" he asked.

Lovesick, yes, Arthur thought. He said, "No."

"What about dizzy?" Gaius inquired. "Have you been having any memory problems? Issues balancing?"

Arthur wasn't listening anymore. He asked, "Do you think Merlin likes me?"

Gaius stared at him blankly. "Considering he's your husband, I would hope so."

Arthur blanched. "Merlin and I are married?"

Gaius said, "So I'll take it that's a yes on the memory problems."

Arthur felt impossibly giddy at that. He had worried for nothing. Everything was okay. Everything was perfectly, impossibly, amazingly okay.

Things were not as okay when Merlin found out.

"YOU FORGOT I'M YOUR HUSBAND? YOU CLOTPOLE!"

"Is that—?" a maid began to ask.

"No," said Sir Leon.