Arthur was feeling elated. He was cold, though he would never admit it, and the slanting rain was stinging his eyes, but these were minor inconveniences compared to the sheer happiness that seemed to be burning within him. He felt so powerful, so alive. He was King, he and his knights had won a victory that day over a small yet particularly ruthless group of bandits, Morgana had not been seen or heard of for months, ever since her failed attempt to torture Gaius for information that could be used against Camelot. Life was good.
His knights had fallen silent behind him and the only sounds now were the unceasing rain beating against their armor and their horses' footfalls, muted by layers of wet leaves. The light was failing and they would need to stop and make camp soon. They would be back in Camelot before night fell tomorrow. That thought heated Arthur up some more, and he glanced over his right shoulder at Merlin, who was riding almost abreast of himself.
Merlin seemed to be lost in thought. His hood only partially covered his head and his face was wet and cold and beautiful.
A horse whinnied behind them, and Arthur abruptly returned his eyes to the path in front of him. He was constantly reminding himself not to stare at Merlin, but it was becoming increasingly difficult.
It had been a few weeks now since that first night spent with Merlin in his chambers – the night he had dared to caress his manservant, the night he had realized his feelings were reciprocated, the night filled with so many slow, passionate pleasures – he swallowed and shifted in his saddle. There had been many wonderful nights with Merlin since they had discovered each other's love, and each other's bodies, but the days had become more difficult to navigate.
He wondered how much his knights knew, how much they guessed. He and Merlin had been close for years now, but some change in their behavior must have been noticed by Leon or Gwaine, at the very least. He knew that Leon always watched him closely; he had always been protective of him, ever since the first time Arthur had swung a sword. Gwaine, on the other hand, despite being his sworn knight, seemed to be overprotective and watchful only where Merlin was concerned. Sometimes Arthur thought that Gwaine's loyalty lied with Merlin first, before his King, but he couldn't bring himself to find fault with that. Merlin was safer with a friend like Gwaine, and Arthur was grateful for it. He himself had no lack of sworn knights who would defend him to their last breath.
Did his knights suspect their King was enamored of his manservant? There had been a change in the way that Merlin smiled at him sometimes now, Arthur knew. His looks were just so full of unguarded love sometimes, that it literally took Arthur's breath away for a few moments. Arthur himself had stopped playfully punching Merlin, had stopped poking fun at him and teasing him as he used to, had stopped loudly complaining about his utter uselessness… although those things had largely been in jest, he couldn't bring himself to pretend now, not anymore.
Had Leon noticed that way Merlin had smiled at him when his fingers brushed against Arthur's this morning at the campfire, when he had handed him his cup? That mischievous smile and cocked eyebrow that Arthur had come to associate with his buttons being unfastened and his trousers untied? Had he noticed the way Arthur had stared into Merlin's face and blushed?
Had Gwaine noticed the way Arthur had touched Merlin's cheek after the battle, so unguardedly grateful for the stroke of luck that had caused one of the bandits to trip over a tree root as he headed, sword bloody and drawn, towards Merlin, who was half-hidden, unarmed, behind a tree? Arthur had thought they were concealed by the tree, but had turned to find Gwaine in the act of turning away from them, kneeling to retrieve a large throwing knife. Did Gwaine guess at what was between them?
Four days ago they had fallen asleep together, had slept more soundly than usual, and Merlin had run into Gwaine on his way back to Gaius's chambers in the very-early morning. Gwaine had been on his way back from the bedchamber of a certain red-haired, freckled young lady (it was a well-known secret that he met with the youngest daughter of one of the more pompous council-members, and Arthur privately thought that he was overdue for some trouble on that account), so when he met Merlin, both of them with unfastened boots, half-open shirts and jackets on their arms, it was clear which suspicion would first come to mind. It had been just around the corner from Arthur's bedchamber. Merlin had reported that Gwaine was taken aback for a moment, and had then let out a small bark of a laugh and slapped Merlin lightly on the shoulder before continuing on his way.
Arthur glanced at Merlin again. He wasn't ashamed. He loved Merlin and was proud of the impressive young man he had become over the past few years. His loyal, brave Merlin. It was a pity that such a love could not be publicly accepted for what it was, but for now that did not affect their happiness.
Although another few minutes of this weather might turn Merlin into an icicle, and that would definitely affect their happiness.
"Gwaine has stopped complaining, so something is clearly terribly wrong. We should find someplace dry, make camp for the night." Arthur announced.
"Dry?" Gwaine's response came instantly. "I vaguely seem to remember the meaning of that word. Perce, help me out here?"
"Dry, dry, dry…" Percival, playing along. "No, mate, sorry. Can't remember. Something to do with warm, maybe."
"Warm," Gwaine's voice was dreamy now. "I could use a warm apple pie right now. Warm apple cider…"
"Warm anything, really." Merlin contributed to the conversation, and Arthur could feel him grinning, awoken from his reverie and all perked up again.
"Thank you, Gwaine and Percival," Arthur said drily, "for volunteering to ride ahead and select a campsite for us."
"I'm almost sorry we killed those bandits and deprived them of this miserable weather." Gwaine grumbled as he spurred his horse.
Arthur smiled to himself.
He heard a rustle of leaves to his left at the exact same time that his horse gave way underneath him, neighing loudly, and the world turned suddenly upside down.