Arthur is a hunter. It's who he is, it's what he does. It sharpens his skills, helps him prove his strength, and when he manages to capture something worthy, pleases his father. Sometimes Merlin wonders if this intense need to please his father comes from growing up without a mother. Perhaps if he'd had the love a mother can give, he wouldn't be so desperate to prove himself worthy.
But it's late to speculate on such things. Late in a dark, cold cave where Arthur followed his prey--something he'd only seen flashes of in the bushes. He'd led the way underground, holding a torch, full of his contagious optimism. Something about him said that he would not be defeated. It was Merlin's job to make sure that was true. Perhaps it had spoiled him into complacency and general recklessness.
That is difficult to ascertain.
What is certain, however, is that the cave was not prepared for the entry of several young boastful men. Merlin was the first to enter the cave, in spite of Arthur's objections. Arthur followed as closely as he could, but it was within a few feet of the opening that the earth began to shake and the dark, slick walls ran to dust and mud as it started to collapse.
Arthur ordered everyone out, but it was too late for Merlin. He was beyond the threshold to be saved. Everyone knew this. If they didn't, they should. But there was Arthur, shield over his head to block the blows of rubble, sword out to batter his way through the crumbling entry until he was through to the other side. No other man was as daring (or as foolhardy) to do such a thing, so the rocks and boulders piled up behind him, cutting him off with Merlin in a quiet, dark tomb.
Merlin had sustained a blow to his head and a boulder had snapped his ankle. Arthur heard the cries of pain and crawled towards it in the darkness, groping until he found the rough warmth of Merlin's wools.
"All right there, Merlin?" Arthur asked. He could see nothing, but he pulled off his gloves to touch Arthur's face and chest, searching for injuries by feel.
Though dazed by the blow to his head, Merlin was already thinking of ways to get them out of this bind. It was dark, they needed light. Fire would be dangerous in an enclosed space, but creating a magical glow would surely give his secret sorcery away to Arthur. "Yeah."
Arthur's warm fingers found the knot on the back of Merlin's head where the rock had hit him. Merlin hissed through his teeth as Arthur tested it. he heard a light smacking sound and then Arthur concluded, "You're bleeding."
Head wounds were serious. Merlin knew that much from Gaius, and he knew that he could lose a lot of blood before it was all over. He needed to do something and needed to do it now. "Look, Arthur, I need to... I need to tell you something."
Arthur had gathered Merlin up in his arms and he felt so warm, so comfortable. Merlin wondered how close he was to dying. He felt so cold and he trembled, feeling frail and small so close to the bulk of the prince.
"It's all right, Merlin. I know. It's okay."
Merlin was dizzy, not sure if he was heady with what Arthur said or if it was the injury. "You do?" he asked, hoping against hope that Arthur meant what he thought he did.
"I see you every day, Merlin. Day in and day out. How could I not notice that you weren't like other men?" Arthur's hand smoothed his hair down, comforting as he stroked the back of his neck.
"I'm so glad that you know. I thought... I mean... our destinies are entwined. I wasn't sure how I'd keep it from you."
"You don't have to. I know. I've known for a long time."
Merlin felt like he might cry with relief. He'd always hoped that he could tell Arthur that he was a sorcerer, but he knew that the way that Arthur was raised, he'd see it as a moral failing of some sort. He was so driven by right and wrong and the need to please his father, Merlin wasn't sure where he'd stack up to next to Uther. Relaxing in Aurthur's arms, he closed his eyes, thinking about where he'd last seen rocks and how he could start moving them. He'd just need to move the bigger boulders till there was a chink in the wall. Then Arthur could do the rest and take the credit for it.
Arthur's lips on his broke his concentration.
He froze. Merlin had never given or received a kiss before, not from anyone. He was so busy with destiny and magic and all of his secrets, he'd never really thought about what one might feel like. It was soft and tender, just the barest touch of skin, almost ticklish, but it stirred something quite different in him.
It was the first time Arthur had seemed shy about anything. The kiss had been hesitant, curious and more gentle than anything he'd ever witnessed from Arthur. "You really believe that?" Arthur asked, "That our destinies are entwined?"
Yes, but this isn't what I meant, Merlin thought, but then, it was such a fragile moment that he couldn't say that out loud. Realization washed over him at what Arthur thought he was going to confess. He bit his bottom lip at the frustration that Arthur didn't know all of him, not in the way that he'd hoped he would. "Yes," Merlin answered, his voice thick with his confusion and regret.
This time when Arthur kissed him, he parted his lips very slightly and tested their boundaries. Merlin parted his lips to welcome him in, wanting so badly to have some comfort after the disappointment. Arthur cupped his hand under Merlin's throat, stroking him gently. Merlin lost himself in the sensation, bringing a hand up to feel the slight stubble on Arthur's cheek. His kiss grew hungrier, more consuming, and he pulled Merlin closer.
His head hurt and his ankle ached, but somewhere between the confusion, pain, and sublime bliss of the closeness and strong hands tenderly stroking him, he saw his frustration for what it was. Here was Arthur, the future king, leaving himself completely vulnerable to Merlin. Obviously, Arthur had felt this way for a while. He'd come to his village to defend his people. He'd drunk the potion so that he would die instead of merlin. He had taken risks for Merlin's sake that no man, let alone a prince, would ever take for a servant. As upsetting as it was that Arthur didn't see his magic, it must be equally as frustrating for Merlin not to see how much Arthur loved him.
It was taken for granted that a servant would die to defend his prince, but it just didn't work the other way around. Not without Arthur's will, and he'd just ignored it.
Merlin wrapped his arms tightly around Arthur, clinging to him just as desperately as he was being clung to. He was desperate for Arthur to know everything about him, to know about his magic, but he also knew that this wasn't the time for it. Not now, not while Arthur was so vulnerable. Right now, he knew that what Arthur needed was to know that he was loved back and just as deeply. The only way that Merlin could think to do that was to keep his secret to himself--to not put Arthur through the confusion and indecision of whether to tell his father, or to continue to betray Uther by keeping it as a secret.
"I shouldn't be... I should get you out of here, you're injured," said Arthur. Merlin was suddenly aware of the chill of the place as Arthur drew back.
"You don't have to stop..." said Merlin. He was glad of the dark to hide his blush.
Arthur chuckled. "There's plenty of time for that. Or there will be if you don't bleed to death in a cave. I don't suppose you, in your infinite wisdom, happened to bring some flint."
He hadn't, but it was too dark for Arthur to see that. So he said, "Oh yes, I have. Do you think it's safe?"
"I need light if I'm going to move these boulders."
Merlin nodded, though he realized late that Arthur wouldn't be able to see that. He felt around for the torch he'd had that had gone out when the rocks fell. As he clicked two rocks together, he whispered an enchantment to set the torch ablaze.
Once Arthur could see what he was doing, he was gingerly pulling rocks away, setting them aside carefully until he'd reached his men on the other side, doing the same thing. They cheered that Arthur had survived, afraid that he might've been crushed.
That night, there was a celebration for Arthur's bravery and strength. His father toasted his heroism once again, but only Merlin knew who he really was.