There's a tight feeling of dread in Arthur's chest as he looks out at the camp that's bustling—preparing for a battle that Arthur has a feeling is going to be especially bloody. Morgana stopped caring about how many people die in her quest for revenge long ago.
His manservant begins to fasten him into his armor and, as he often does, he begins to wonder what would become of Camelot if he were to die today. He doesn't doubt Guinevere's rule—he knows she is a wonderful Queen—but would the battles against Morgana ever cease? Would peace ever come to his kingdom?
The tent flap pulls aside and Merlin walks in. The sorcerer wears light-weight armor and a grim expression. He dismisses the boy, waving him off before replying to his King's inquisitive look with "I'll do it myself."
It was many years since Merlin had been Arthur's manservant, many years since he had been the one to help Arthur don his armor before a battle. For moment, he wishes for the days of old when his crown wasn't quite so heavy and Merlin was with him almost constantly.
Merlin is silent as he deftly buckles all the various straps. Arthur watches him and can't help but stare at the sorcerer's blue eyes. Today they lack their usual merriment, today they don't dance the way they normally do, the way they're supposed to. Merlin is worried.
As he goes to buckle the cape around Arthur's shoulders, Merlin whispers, "Everything is going to be fine." Somehow, Arthur doesn't believe him. Merlin starts to fastidiously smooth the cloak over his shoulders and Arthur grabs his hands to stop the fitful movement.
"Why do you stay with me?" he asks, not for the first time. He has heard many answers, ranging from destiny to friendship, and yet none of those answers are the whole truth. He wants the whole truth today. Just this once, he wants the whole truth of why Merlin is the one that never leaves.
The other man is now avoiding his eyes—determined to stare over his shoulder at the wall of the tent.
"Merlin," he prompts, squeezing the hands he has yet to let go of.
Finally, Merlin meets his gaze and his eyes are sad. "By now, do you not know already?"
He knew. "Tell me. Say it. Just this once."
For a moment, Merlin's face is shocked, but the shock settles quickly. After all these years, there was no way Arthur hadn't known anyway. It's the single secret that everyone knew, and nobody voiced.
Merlin leans forward and whispers in his King's ear. Arthur closes his eyes as the sorcerer pulls away from him. He holds onto his hands for a moment longer before letting them go. Just before Merlin exits the tent, Arthur says quietly,
"I've always loved you, Merlin. If I die today, I wanted you to know that."
Merlin doesn't look at him, but stays stopped there at the tent flap for a few seconds before continuing out.
Arthur is certain he was crying.
A/N ~I don't know the exact time frame of this, like exactly how many years this is after the canon. You can decide if Arthur died in this battle yourself.
This story came from the image of Merlin shooing Arthur's manservant out of the tent and offering to fix his armor himself. Writing in present tense isn't something I normally do, and it was rather difficult for me. So, if you spot any mistakes, tell me.