Taste Me In Unequaled Thoughts

by kayura sanada

Sequel to See Me In Faded Memories. Merthur. Merlin and Arthur acclimate to the changes between them. Uther, however, has had enough.

1. Part I

Taste Me In Unequaled Thoughts

Part I

---

Uther was out to get him.

Arthur had warned him, that last morning before they returned to Camelot, Gwaine a new, interesting presence by their side (the man traveled literally from tavern to tavern! Who lived like that?), that Uther had sent out Arthur's own men to get to Merlin. He couldn't believe it. Only their loyalty to Arthur stayed their hands. Not in time to save one of them, but in time to save the rest, and to spare Arthur's heart more pain.

And somewhere during Merlin and Arthur returning to Camelot and Merlin being put on bed rest with the excuse of having been injured "by certain parties," Arthur had said in his clipped report to Uther, who had grimaced in a way that showed off more anger than shame, everyone in Camelot became aware of a change in relationship between Merlin and Arthur.

Suddenly everyone was asking him to bring up their problems to the prince, "since he had his ear." Merlin didn't, of course; Arthur was busy enough. But what he could do to help, he did, running around grabbing medicine for one woman's ailing niece and helping another man find lodging in the now-abandoned smithy. Forrest had, rather unsurprisingly, been put to death. Merlin was only thankful that only half the reason had been because of the man's magic, and the other half had been because he'd consorted to kill Arthur and Uther.

But while his popularity had inexplicably shot up in the town, it had plummeted in the castle. The guards looked on him with such suspicion that it was obvious they knew, though Arthur assured him they had no evidence, and he'd worked to dispel the 'rumors' of Merlin's magic. Merlin had nodded and smiled and, a couple of days later, told Arthur that he'd been right, that the guards were leaving him alone. It had been a gross lie, but it had made Arthur feel slightly better, and there wasn't anything the prince could do, anyway.

It had only been a matter of time, after all, Merlin reasoned. And apparently their fights the first couple of weeks had been, in Uther's eyes, Arthur's attempt to break free from Merlin's hold. Perhaps that was why Uther had sent Arthur's knights out – to help. But it had failed, and now Merlin supposedly had Arthur under his control again, and Uther meant to save his son. It was well enough, Merlin supposed. At least Uther wanted to protect Arthur. But it meant the king had no more reason to hide Merlin's secret. Not now that he was actively trying to get rid of him.

And he was. It wasn't just with Gaius anymore, though Gaius kept Merlin appraised now of every time the king went to him. Sometimes it was rants, other times dire warnings to not be in league with Merlin. And sometimes, rarely, it was plans. Uther would consider how best to get rid of Merlin. He had promised his son to not hurt Merlin, apparently, but Uther had found loopholes to that plan. He could have others kill Merlin, or hint at a reward if someone did it. He could send Merlin into dangerous situations, or simply send out a bounty for Merlin's head and wait for Arthur to go on another patrol. He could have Merlin taken somewhere far away, into another kingdom – but that would have to be a controlled situation, Gaius repeated, because if it didn't work, then Uther wanted a way to get his hands back on Merlin. Just in case Arthur still showed signs of being enchanted.

Merlin didn't go anywhere anymore without Gwaine next to him.

It wasn't a chore, however. Gwaine was labeled a servant, but it was for convenience's sake only. Arthur called him a spy. Merlin had no idea what Uther called him. Possibly 'aggravation,' 'meddler,' or something far less politic. In any case, Gwaine was with him whenever he stepped out of the castle, whenever he had to run to grab herbs for Gaius, whenever a group of guards glared at him a little too hard. And Gwaine did it all with a grin, one that, when Merlin pointed out how nearly bloodthirsty it was, Gwaine himself labeled 'shit-eating.' Merlin didn't know if that was Gwaine insulting himself or insulting those he had to deal with, but it was just the right level of rude and daredevil that seemed to suit the look, and Merlin had adopted the phrase without qualm.

Gwaine had a million stories, each and every one revolving around his exploits in one bar or another. But listening to him ramble on about them made their enterprises together companionable instead of oppressing. During one moment, after having scared off three guards far bulkier than he, Gwaine admitted to being of noble birth.

"You could be a knight, then!" Merlin said, and Gwaine rolled his eyes.

"As if I could be knight to that brat of a man your country calls king," Gwaine said, nodding in the general direction of the throne room. Even though the hall was completely desolate after Gwaine's show of force, Merlin still cast a fearful gaze about the place, just in case someone came slithering out to point at them and yell, 'treason!'

When it didn't happen, Merlin turned back to Gwaine. "But wouldn't you like to be a knight? You'd be under Arthur's command. You don't seem to mind him."

"The princess is different than most nobles, yeah. Maybe that's because of you." And Gwaine waggled his eyebrows. Merlin blushed horribly, as he always did when Gwaine made those kinds of jokes, and Gwaine burst out laughing, as usual. Merlin didn't have the heart to tell him that, though he and Arthur had spoken of his magic a bit more – a tiny bit more; Arthur had been kept busy by Uther, and Arthur continually said he wanted the time to hear everything properly. Whatever that meant. But though they'd apparently gotten the absolute worst of it behind them, still Arthur had not invited Merlin into his bed again. Merlin feared he never would.

Gwaine finally stopped mocking Merlin and shrugged. "But in the end, even if I were under Arthur's command, I'd still be under Uther's first and foremost, wouldn't I? Those knights had to walk a thin line to keep themselves from getting killed, all because they had to follow Arthur and Uther both. No, thanks."

Merlin couldn't argue with that.

"So where are you headed?" Gwaine asked, and they both fell into easy step with each other down the corridors, long used to sharing space with one another by now.

"I have to get Arthur's sword and armor for the practice field."

Gwaine groaned. Not because he had to practice, even though he did. Not because it was a study in frustration, as Arthur grilled his men to the bone in aggravation because even though Merlin said it was getting better, it was obvious every time Arthur saw his men near Merlin that at least half of them still looked on him with suspicion and disdain.

It was because, to get Arthur's weapon and armor, he had to go into the armory. And if there were any guards in there – any at all – Merlin inevitably found himself dodging falling weapons or suddenly precarious piles of armor. A couple of guards, at the beginning, hadn't been afraid to get into his face, warning him, shoving him around until he'd had a pike pushing into his lower back. Gwaine had come to his rescue, of course, but the danger of the room hadn't diminished even a bit since.

Gwaine snarled off the two knights waiting to meet with Merlin in the room, obviously loitering before going out to the practice field. Merlin dodged carefully before they could 'accidentally' bump into him on their way out.

The room only had one other – Kay. The man watched Merlin closely, but not with nearly the amount of hate and unease the others possessed. Merlin felt safe enough to walk forward, and took a single step of space between himself and Gwaine before proceeding to Arthur's stash.

Kay's armor clinked slightly as he pulled it tight and tied it off. Kay's squire was sick, and the man had chosen to do his own work. Merlin hesitated. Bit his lip. Then he walked over to Kay. "Here. Let me."

Gwaine sighed.

Kay gave him another look, but he nodded and held out his hands. Merlin checked the man's vambrace, tightening it when he found it loose, then moved up from Kay's forearm to his elbow, checking the couter. It was slightly odd, finding the arm beneath a bit fuller and bulkier than he was used to – Arthur was all muscle, but somehow it remained whipcord lean no matter how much Arthur worked out.

He fetched Kay's pauldron from where it sat on the bench beside him and tugged it onto his shoulder. Then came the breastplate, and both Merlin and Kay were painfully tense throughout the process of leaning in and pulling the breastplate around Kay's neck. Merlin didn't breathe again until the plate was in place and he could lean away again to tie it tight.

"About Arthur."

Merlin stilled. None of the knights had spoken to him since he'd returned, if not to mumble threats or warnings. And now, the first one to speak to him without violence was the one Arthur had talked down from trying to hurt him and drag him off, and the topic, of all topics, he'd chosen to discuss was Arthur.

Merlin leaned away, smoothing the ties so that they couldn't be cut, testing the metal links to ensure they would hold. Every move was instinct, as natural as breathing; he never let Arthur enter a battlefield with poorly prepared equipment. "What about him?" he asked, keeping his voice low. He could see Gwaine, out of the corner of his eye, watching them like a hawk.

"We accepted you because your loyalty to Arthur was never before in question," Kay said. Merlin blinked, not entirely sure that he should be flattered or concerned about the inherent 'but.' "And now we find that your loyalty perhaps should have been questioned from the start."

Merlin gave him a wide-eyed stare, not sure how he should respond and caught between making a tactical retreat and trying to reason with the man. But if this one, the one Arthur himself had spoken to, couldn't understand, then what hope could Merlin, the supposed sorcerer (and wasn't it just a kick that he was actively pretending he wasn't a sorcerer when he was), have to convince the man that he would sooner cut his own throat than harm Arthur?

Then Kay slapped him on the shoulder. Merlin's knees buckled. "Don't worry," Kay said. Merlin froze again. "Right now, they're wondering if they were wrong about you, the way I did. They will see your loyalty again. Have no doubt."

Merlin nodded dumbly. Kay seemed to accept Merlin's wordless response, because the man grabbed his sword, twisted his arm back and forth. "Thank you for your help," Kay said, lifting his arm to indicate the armor, and then walked forward to exit to the field. He turned back. "You might want to hurry up, though, or you'll make Arthur late."

Merlin jumped. "Oh!" He twisted on his foot to race back toward Arthur's armor. "Crap!"

He heard Gwaine join Kay in chuckling as he snatched up gauntlet and vambrace and pauldron. Traitor.

---

Arthur was beautiful when he fought.

Merlin would never tell the man this, because not only was he ridiculously vain enough, but he didn't need another reason to show off his immensely impressive fighting skills. And let it never be said that Merlin fed that ridiculous ego or contributed in any small way to the suffering of Arthur's men.

Besides, Arthur liked battle enough without being told he looked absolutely magnificent with his sword cleaving through enemy forces.

The field's grass had been trampled so much in the past weeks Merlin wondered at its resilience to grow. He himself sat safely on the bench, not allowed to leave the practice field while Gwaine battled against Arthur. The fight between the two of them was the highlight of the entire session, and Merlin watched with the rest of them as Arthur dodged a strong downward swipe and danced around Gwaine's side, sweeping his sword out from his side. Gwaine had to hop away.

They stared each other down for a time, giving Merlin a chance to take in the sweat that beaded on Arthur's upper lip and the back of his neck. Merlin trailed one drop with his gaze as it fell to his chainmail. Merlin would hate the amount of clothing on Arthur if it didn't make him look like some sort of druid god of war.

He caught Jence and another new knight – Pern, he remembered – glaring at him. For some reason, it made him drop his gaze from Arthur and back to the ground. While Kay had given him some hope, there really wasn't much else to take solace in. He still faced accosting – or worse – wherever he went in the castle; the other servants had caught on to the guards' distrust – as if that was hard – and had started avoiding him. It was painful enough, since several of them he'd considered friends, but it also meant that he was out of the loop gossip-wise, which could only harm Arthur.

Honestly, he was starting to feel like he was failing his destiny, like he'd started failing destiny the moment he'd slipped into bed with Arthur. Now, he was putting a wall between Arthur and his men, was giving him nothing but trouble in his own castle by way of tensions with his father and the guards, and now he couldn't even remain apprised of any situations cropping up in Camelot.

And worse, in the worst way possible, everyone knew about his magic.

Well, maybe not everyone. Just the guards, he thought. He touched Arthur's shield, sitting beside him as Arthur forwent the thing for speed. Gwaine nearly got a hit on him, but Arthur did an impressive duck and roll that got him behind Gwaine, and Gwaine had to outright retreat for a second to keep Arthur from getting a 'killing' blow.

The servants didn't seem to quite know why the guards were after Merlin, but they seemed to have come to the agreement that something Very Bad had happened while Arthur and Merlin had been gone. Which wasn't exactly incorrect, even though they had no idea what that something had been. Neither did Merlin, really. He didn't remember anything of the journey. A part of him was still amazed that Arthur had actually gone out to save him. The other part hoped.

Finally Arthur managed to chase Gwaine down, going for odd attacks from side to side, pushing against Gwaine's unnatural strength and taking him through speed, finally getting him on his back and putting his sword to Gwaine's neck. Both men were panting loudly, chests heaving. And both had identical maniacal grins on their faces; Gwaine's in challenge, Arthur's in hard-won victory.

Finally, Arthur pulled his sword away and helped Gwaine up. "Now," Arthur said, turning from Gwaine in a snubbing dismissal, the only thing he could do to keep his men from revolting against Arthur training with a commoner, leaving Gwaine to shake himself off and move toward Merlin, "let's see if you lot can do half so well."

Each man scowled at the even bigger snub. Merlin had to cover his mouth to keep from snickering too loudly. He didn't need any more reason for the knights to hate him.

Gwaine was sweaty and smelly and slightly gross, dirt sticking on his clothes, but he collapsed onto the bench beside Merlin, that grin still going strong, and he clapped Merlin on the back a little harder than was comfortable. "Ah, Merlin! You got yourself a strong one, don't you?" Thence came the newest round of blushing and laughing, until Gwaine shook his head and stood. "Come on, let's get you out of here before those guys learn how to attack with their glares alone."

Merlin almost didn't hear him; he was too busy catching a glimpse of Arthur kicking one of his men into the dirt despite the workout he'd just had with Gwaine, and his hair was momentarily haloed by the sun. Like a god of victory, he looked down as his knight stumbled to his feet to try again; like a warrior angel, he pulled his lips back into a snarl – Arthur may have caught this particular knight leaning over Merlin in a threatening pose the afternoon before – and struck hard against the man's shoulder, making him drop his sword, before he shoved the man straight back onto the ground.

"Or you can stay here and ogle your man," Gwaine said, and Merlin jumped. He turned to see that grin of his had been replaced by a smirk. Merlin blushed again.

"But Arthur's shield," he said, a pathetic excuse that just made Gwaine shake his head at him.

"I think it can survive on its own for an hour or two while you get some much-deserved rest."

Rest? Merlin scoffed. He never got rest. When he wasn't running everywhere for Arthur, as usual, he was helping Gaius out, since the poor old man was more often than not being held up by Uther's rants and demands for help planning Merlin's exile-slash-death. If he wasn't doing that, then he was dodging glares and shoves and trying to glean information from people no longer willing to speak with him. And if there wasn't that, then there were the small, short snatches of conversations with Gwen that amounted to, 'how could you not tell me?' and 'I'm happy for you, Merlin, really, I am; you and Arthur are good for each other,' and, 'I'm sorry I thought you were – well, I heard what happened with the blacksmith, and I'm so sorry I didn't stay,' and variations of this theme.

She didn't hate him, but it was obviously hard for her to be near him or Arthur at the moment. It was more than Merlin had hoped for, though it shouldn't have been a surprise. Gwen was a saint. And Merlin was sure Arthur had spoken with her; not just because Arthur never would allow something like this to go unanswered, but because one day he'd found Gwen, hiding in Morgana's room, looking out the window with tears sparkling in the sunlight, a frown on her lips. But when he'd asked Arthur about it, he'd said only, "It's my fault," and he didn't speak on it any further.

But Gwaine had mentioned the magical word rest, and even if there was no way he would actually get any, the siren song of the possibility finally lured Merlin from the practice field.

It took them five steps inside the castle before they were stopped by a harried looking servant rushing past, then another, saying, "stop! The other way!" and Merlin remembered they were receiving guests. Merlin sighed and turned to go to Arthur's chambers. Gwaine frowned at him, but Merlin just waved his hand and gave the man a smile only a little more tired than usual. "A servant's work is never done."

He needed to make sure Arthur's clothes were pressed and ready, his boots shined, his bath drawn up. The very idea of it made his nerves sing; he wanted to use magic to hurry the process, but was more afraid than ever of what would happen if someone actually saw him using the magic he was accused of having. He was under no illusions that the only reason he lived was because Uther thought he might keep Arthur under his spell even after death. Any hint of news otherwise, and Merlin was as good as dead.

He felt like he'd been playing along the edge of a cliff, walking along the line between rock and air, and had just found that the footing he'd thought was stable was actually loose rocks breaking apart beneath his feet.

---

It was even busier when the guests came, and the only times Merlin saw Arthur were in the morning when he took his breakfast up and woke him, in the evenings when he prepared Arthur for bed, and during the banquets and festivals, during which Merlin was kept either so busy helping the other servants he nearly tripped over his feet – twice – or so bored standing behind Arthur he nearly fell asleep where he stood.

When it was all over, Gaius gave him a pity's day off and reported a slight ailment making the rounds in the city as an excuse to get out of Uther's constant plans and rants. Uther was a horrible man in some ways, but he truly did love his people. He left Gaius alone to take care of them, and Gaius, now with the time to get done the things he needed to get done, let Merlin catch a few winks of rest in between his usual duties.

It had been a few days after the guests finally left that Arthur called Merlin into his room with the tone of voice that said they were going to be left alone, by god, or Arthur would have someone's head. A ball of weight settled in Merlin's gut as he stepped into Arthur's bedroom.

It was midday, and Arthur, for once, apparently had absolutely nothing on his plate. It was nearly unheard of. But instead of calling for an impromptu hunt or something else, he instead locked his door behind Merlin and ushered him to the table. The ball in Merlin's gut grew until it caught in his chest, big enough to make it difficult to breathe. Arthur pointed to a seat already pulled out, and as Merlin sat, the prince moved to the windows and closed them, until even the few slivers of light that slipped through were muted. The desk Arthur worked at was as empty as it ever got, which was to say that a few papers still sat to be looked through.

Finally, Arthur seemed to decide they were safe enough, and he sat in the chair across from Merlin. The ball inside him was now so large he couldn't swallow. "We won't be disturbed for the rest of the day," Arthur said, and the idea of having the whole day – that Arthur had specifically called out so much time just for this – made the ball turn acidic. It ate away at his stomach.

"Oh." He wondered if he should try to find some excuse to leave.

Arthur frowned and put both hands on the table, palms down, as he would when conducting some battle strategy. "You're not going anywhere. I have questions." Merlin's eyes were like a deer's when it catches sight of the crossbow aimed at it. "And not like that, Merlin." Arthur sighed and rubbed his temple. "I'm not going to string you up and bleed the answers from you."

Merlin only calmed slightly at that, because he honestly hadn't thought Arthur would. But the idea of the possibility gave a new tension to his shoulders.

Arthur sighed again and leaned forward. "You told me a few things I've never been told before about magic." Arthur's face scrunched a bit, as if admitting he had less information than Merlin was nearly a capital crime. "You said you were born with it. That you didn't choose it?"

Merlin nodded slowly, as if Arthur was moving him into a trap. "My mother said I was making objects move before I could crawl."

Arthur choked out a short laugh. "That early?"

Merlin nodded again, this time even slower. "She said I made my toys move. Made my bed float. I would make my toys fly to their homes instead of putting them away myself." Arthur actually chuckled at that one, and his eyes widened as if he couldn't believe the sound had come out. It made Merlin grin. "She said I was a horrible troublemaker, that I always made her worry that..." His voice dropped. "That I'd be caught."

Arthur stopped chuckling then.

"She's the one who taught me to always keep it hidden. Keep it secret. I had to. The other villagers started knowing something was up – they would watch me out of the corner of their eyes. And then there was Will–"

"Another sorcerer," Arthur said, and Merlin flinched. Arthur waited a beat. "It was you."

Merlin ducked his head down, that acidic ball destroying his insides.

"That's what you were trying to tell me." Merlin flinched again, and he heard something in Arthur's next exhalation that said he was getting pissed. "Why did you let him lie to me?"

Merlin shivered. "Because I needed to stay by your side. I needed to make sure you were safe. I... I wanted to tell you. I thought I had to, but..."

"Had to is not wanted to, Merlin."

He didn't look up from the grains in the wooden table. "I know," he said, slumping in misery. "Will took it on himself for my sake. Maybe he already knew – Will was dumb, and brass, but he always knew me. We grew up together; he was my only friend. The only one who'd found out about my magic. So maybe he knew I couldn't... I wanted to stay with you. So he took it out of my hands. Protected me."

"Protected you from me."

Merlin flinched again, and slumped so far in his seat he nearly slid underneath the table. "From you leaving me behind."

Arthur was silent then, and Merlin chanced a peek over the rim of the table to see how he was taking this. Arthur looked like he was chewing on something fatty and trying to force himself to swallow. "Back up and explain how Will 'found out.'"

Merlin cleared his throat, but the ball of weight didn't go away. So he said, "Will saw me playing in the woods. It's – I would do it sometimes, when I thought no one was around. My mother would yell at me if she caught me, tell me to keep it bottled up, but... I couldn't. So I would go outside sometimes, make the leaves on the ground swirl, or lift up logs and rocks. I would go to the river and make the water dance. Will caught me." He looked down. "He freaked, at first, went on and on about how I was actually a monster come to eat him." Arthur snorted, a bit, but Merlin shivered. Because right now, that's how everyone in the castle was treating him. "But I... I showed him my magic, and he became less afraid. Or maybe it helped that I was crying." Merlin shrugged.

"You're such a girl, Merlin," Arthur said, but it was little more than a whisper.

"He forgave me," Merlin said, and the words felt odd on his tongue. He didn't know why until Arthur spoke.

"'Forgave you'? For being who you are?"

Merlin shivered. "I'm trying to get forgiveness from you," he whispered.

Arthur scraped back his chair, stormed over to Merlin's side of the table. "Get up," he said suddenly. Merlin blinked up at him. "Up," he said again, and Merlin did as bade. Arthur's hands snatched his arms, and like chains, they dragged him over toward Arthur's bed. Merlin's eyes nearly popped out of their skull. "That isn't working," Arthur said. Merlin had no earthly idea what he could be talking about. Arthur pushed Merlin down until he was sitting on the edge of the bed, nearly swallowed by the downy comfiness that was princely sleeping arrangements. Arthur leaned above him and captured Merlin's lips with his. It was not a slow, teasing kiss, nor a steady one of promise, but a quick, almost angry mess, in which Arthur seemed to be trying to remind him of some sort of brand, or ownership. Then Arthur stood back up. "I said it before, didn't I? Back when I first dragged you from that tomb. I don't care about your magic, Merlin. Well, perhaps I did," he said, and his tone turned slightly chagrined. "But the lies. That's what I hated. How you lied to me."

Merlin just looked up at him, not fully comprehending. "I'm so..." He stopped, remembering Arthur didn't want to hear anymore apologies from him. This time, it was Arthur who flinched.

Arthur put his hand up, almost like he was warding off any more words from Merlin. "Let's start over. I won't say I'm not... yet completely amenable," he said, apparently searching for words, "to your magic. I have my own problems there to work through. And I don't feel like walking down that old path of accusations. You lied to me. You wanted to protect me and yourself." Arthur's lips pulled a bit at that one, and it was obvious he was putting in a strong effort to stop himself from following that statement's path into the old argument phase. "You risked your life for me. For all intents and purposes, you've given your life to me. Your magic is mine, you said." Arthur paused then, and stared at Merlin until finally he nodded, silently agreeing. Yes, his magic was Arthur's. "But it's a part of you. You were born with it." Another nod. "In other words, it is you."

This time when Merlin nodded, he could at least see where Arthur was going.

"Even when we were fighting – when I was fighting," he said, because there was never a time when Arthur didn't own up to his failings, even when the self-recrimination was undeserved, "you still acted in my best interest, not in yours. So do not doubt that I recognize this, and that I know I've been in the wrong."

Merlin frowned. "But you're right. I lied to you. I kept it a secret, even when..." Merlin's voice bubbled out, "even when we..." He blushed and ducked his head. "I should've said something."

The silence between them could strip the air from the room. It lasted so long Merlin thought he might try to find a way to use his magic to slip through the stones of the floor and escape to the room beneath.

Arthur finally sat on the bed beside him, sighing loudly enough to make the walls shake. "We've both made mistakes," he said. The words made Merlin look up. Despite the tension, he couldn't help the calm that came over him at Arthur's nearness. "Right now, we need to move forward. We can't go back and change the past. We don't even know if doing so would make it better. If you'd told me before we got together, would I have accepted it? If you'd rejected me until I'd found out, would my bitterness at the rejection color my reaction to your magic?"

Merlin blinked. He hadn't thought about either of those. He'd merely known things had gone horribly wrong here, between them like this. But Arthur, the strategist that he could be, obviously had. He'd followed those trails down to their conclusions, as far as he could see. And he was right; perhaps, no matter what, they would have arrived at this point – tense, changed, pulled apart by Merlin's magic. "Can... can we be salvaged?" Merlin asked, his voice barely a breath, his entire body frozen.

But Arthur cut straight through it. "So long as we're alive, we have hope."

Merlin caught the look in Arthur's eyes then, the softened plains of clear blue sky, and found himself attempting a smile. As long as they were alive, they had a chance to make it right. "I swear," he said, "I will never betray you, Arthur. I would rather take my own life."

Arthur curled one hand against Merlin's cheek. "I know."

They sat in silence again, for a time. It stretched, not like a rubber band now, but like a well-stretched muscle, the pain of it nearly pleasurable. Merlin bounced once where he sat. Rolled his shoulders. It was an effort not to just lean on Arthur and sleep. Or just lean back and sleep. Arthur had the nicest bed in the world.

"If you've had it all your life," Arthur said, his voice little more than a murmur, as if Arthur felt the exact same strum of silence within, "why did you come to Camelot?"

Merlin shrugged. "Ealdor wasn't a haven for me anymore. It was dangerous. People were suspicious of me, and my mother wanted to protect me." Arthur made an almost strangled sound, and Merlin grinned. "Yeah, I know. Protect me by sending me to Camelot? But Camelot had Gaius. My mother knew him from way back when, and she thought he might be able to help me. Give me a place to stay, give me a purpose. Maybe help me with my magic. I don't know if that was part of her plan, but... Gaius..." Merlin hesitated, not knowing if he should be giving away such secrets. Then, "Gaius helped."

Arthur cleared his throat. "When the Witchfinder came..." Arthur trailed off all over again, and one of his hands came and squeezed tight around Merlin's wrist. "My father told me Gaius had magic. Practiced it once, but didn't anymore." Arthur turned to him, and Merlin feared Arthur would ask him to divulge Gaius' secrets, and even for Arthur Merlin didn't know if he could betray Gaius like that, but the look on Arthur's face didn't quite match. "He almost found you," Arthur said.

Merlin was stuck on Gaius, so it took him a minute to realize Arthur was talking about Aredian. "Yeah," he said. The hand around his wrist tightened until Merlin winced. Even then, it released him only slightly, those fingers iron bands around him. "I'd messed up. It was all my fault. I was playing again – I shouldn't have, I know better–"

"You...! You were almost killed!"

The rage in Arthur made Merlin tense again. Arthur stood, shoved a hand through his hair, and started to pace. "You idiot, Merlin! What were you thinking?!"

Merlin could not believe he was being reamed out over this after so long. "Gaius already lectured me."

"Apparently not well enough!"

"Well, he certainly didn't throw me in the stocks," Merlin said, and Arthur rounded on him.

"I've half of a mind to! Dammit, Merlin! In Camelot, no less! Do you even have a brain in that ridiculous head of yours?"

Merlin didn't know whether to be insulted or pleased. "Are you... defending me?"

Arthur looked like he just might wrap his hands around Merlin's throat. "You brought the Witchfinder to Camelot just so you could play rainmaker in the woods?"

"It was smoke," Merlin said, and for a moment he actually thought Arthur would grab his neckerchief and choke him. "It was stupid, I know! I haven't done it since. I almost got Gaius killed."

He hated how his voice wobbled, but at least it got Arthur calm again. He stopped pacing and returned to Merlin. "You need to be more careful! Playing with smoke, using magic in the streets!"

"Why?" Merlin asked. "Uther knows now. His guards know now. If the people find out, so what? The worst has already happened."

"Not yet," Arthur said, and his tone made it clear that the worst – Merlin's death, he realized – would not be allowed to happen. He scrubbed his face. "Gods. Go on." He waved a hand. "This can't be the worst of it. You came to Camelot, decided somehow that your 'fate' was to protect me."

"There's a prophecy." Arthur cast him a dubious look from above the tips of his fingers. "I know; I thought it was ridiculous, too, at first. But..." He took a deep breath. "The druids seem to believe it. They... they call me Emrys."

Arthur made a startled noise.

"And they call you the Once and Future King." Another startled noise. Merlin cocked an eyebrow and sat back, nearly falling into the plush pillows. "You've heard it before."

Arthur's hands dropped. "The woman." Arthur waved a hand around. "The goddess. Nemau..."

"Nemausicae," Merlin supplied helpfully. It earned him a half-hearted glare.

"Nemausicae," Arthur said. "She called you that, and me... she kept calling me 'king.' The Once and Future King."

Merlin smiled. Arthur almost seemed entranced by it. "That's because that's who you are. I've said it before. You're to be the greatest king who's ever lived."

Arthur stared at Merlin for a long time then. Merlin couldn't tell if his eyes were widening or his mouth firming or, just maybe, Arthur was moving his balance to the balls of his feet as if making to run. It took him a while to calm his features, and when he did, he finally sat down. "And when you heard that, you thought you should protect me?"

Thankfully, Arthur already seemed to have dismissed the idea, but Merlin was still quick to say, "actually, I thought someone had made a mistake. You were too much of a prat."

Arthur chuckled. It sent a shiver through him. Merlin wondered if it would be better or worse if he tried to touch him. He didn't know if Arthur wanted to maintain a sort of distance from him in order to swallow all the information Merlin was giving him. They hadn't gone far enough back into their relationship for him to feel comfortable breaking the distance without some sign from Arthur that it would be all right to do so. "And now?" Arthur asked.

"You're still a prat," Merlin said, not even having to contemplate the answer. "Sometimes too much of one." Arthur gave him that look that said if he were anyone else, he'd be walking on thin ice. "Sometimes way too much of one."

That look disappeared at the twitch of a lip. "Shut up, Merlin."

Merlin positively beamed. "Yes, sire."

Arthur started pacing again, but the steps were slow. He covered his mouth with one hand. "So you heard the prophecy, and my father admitted you as my servant."

"I was wholly against it at the time," Merlin said. "I still thought you were a prat. I thought that way until you accepted my story about Valiant."

This time when Arthur gave him a look, it was almost the same one he made just before kissing Merlin. It made everything in him heat up. "Why did you come to me?"

Merlin finally gave up and lay back on the plush blankets and soft bed. Sitting up had been starting to hurt his back, anyway. "I don't know. Instinct? I just thought you should know. It was your life, after all."

So comfortable! He'd never spent a night in Arthur's bed, since they'd had to keep anything they did together secret. Did they still have to do that? Weak as he'd been when he'd first been healed by the goddess, he still couldn't help but hear Arthur call Merlin his consort. Consort. Spouse in all but deed. It was insane. Arthur had practically declared war on which the very foundations his country had been founded – tradition. Expectation. Marriage. Offspring. Arthur had allowed something – affection, Merlin hoped – to cloud his judgment when it came to Merlin. He wanted to fight against it; to tell Arthur he needed to go and take it back. But he could never make himself. He thought he should, for Arthur's sake. For Camelot's sake. But he couldn't.

He bit his lip. Maybe he should bring it up? He couldn't leave; it wasn't just that he didn't want to, it was that he couldn't. If it hadn't been for Gwaine, Arthur might have met his end in a tavern, of all places, chasing after a cure for Merlin.

"What are you thinking?"

The question was asked like Merlin might have been considering just how to torture Arthur. He'd heard it once or twice before, when Merlin had a couple scathing retorts in mind and was deciding whether the next few hours in the stocks would be worth it. Now, he just sighed. "Uther would never accept me as your shadow lover now, let alone your consort."

Arthur sighed, and Merlin watched from his position on the bed as Arthur scrubbed his face up and down with one hand. "He doesn't have to accept it. It is what it is. I can't get married to you, not officially. We're two men. But as far as it goes – and as I'm the prince, it can go to the furthest reaches of this kingdom – we are wed."

Something warm, fluffy, and constricting gathered in his chest. "But we can't be. We knew it from the start – it was just–"

"We knew nothing, Merlin. I never would have taken you to my bed if I'd been thinking short term."

Merlin's gut sank through the bed. His heart leaped over the castle turrets. "What?"

"Why do you think I was so angry? So betrayed? Why do you think I let you get away with far more than anyone else?"

"Because I'm a great manservant?" he asked, his mouth nearly working on autopilot as the rest of him looked over those months together and realized Arthur had never mentioned, not once, a time limit. In fact, every time Merlin had brought it up, Arthur had ordered him to shut up. The revelation blew all thought from his mind.

Arthur snorted at his rejoinder. "Hardly." If Merlin hadn't been on cloud nine, he might have taken some offense to that. "But it brings with it issues, Merlin." Arthur scrubbed his face again. One patch of hair stuck up from his forehead. Merlin's fingers itched to pull it down. "I hadn't thought it through. Not completely. My head was on how to protect you from the implications of you having magic–"

"Ridiculous implications," Merlin said, managed a smile at the insanity of the entire thing.

Arthur was not so impressed. He glared at him. "But it means everyone is going to have their eyes on you. Jence can't hold down a secret to save his life. Just as the guards may have learned of the chance of you having magic from him, they and the rest of Camelot have most assuredly learned of your relationship with me by now."

Merlin made a small sound in the back of his throat. "Ah! That explains it."

"Explains what?" The dark tone in Arthur's voice could not be mistaken. It sent a shiver running up Merlin's spine, and a small smile played on his lips. Arthur really was getting defensive. He wondered what had changed during the journey to the holy altar to make Arthur go from international prick to overprotective lover. Husband.

"The villagers. They've been after me ever since we got back, trying to get me to talk to you about their problems."

Arthur hissed. "Why haven't you spoken to me about this?"

"Uh, because you've been busy?" Arthur made another familiar noise, this time of exasperation. "What?" One glare, and Merlin said, "oh, you meant about them bothering me."

"Really, Merlin? How in the world have you managed to get dressed every morning on your own?"

"It's more than you can do, sire," he said, and got to watch Arthur scowl. Merlin grinned cheekily. "It really wasn't that big a deal. I thought they'd all just bombarded me because I'm your servant, and you've shown, if nothing else, a willingness to keep me around. I figured they were just trying to get your ear through me."

Arthur sighed. "And?"

Merlin frowned over to him. Arthur made his way to his desk and sat in the chair, but he turned to sit sideways and ignored the few papers on his desk. "What have they asked of you?"

"Of me? Nothing, really. It isn't really anything big, or I would have brought it to you, I swear. Most of it's just been little things. 'I need a place to stay,' 'my niece's sick,' 'my daughter's looking for work.' The usual. I just send them where I can."

Arthur's face contorted slightly. "You do what?"

Merlin waved a hand. "The woman with a sick niece, I went to Gaius and we managed to figure out what she needed. The man who needed a place to rest was easily put up in the smithy. The daughter needing work found a small job at the tailor's. None of it was anything big; I could handle it myself while you dealt with bigger issues."

The look Arthur gave him then was one he'd never seen before. It made the constriction that had been ruining the warm fuzzy ball in his chest disappear. "Merlin, you do know that what you did – it's what the prince's consort would do." At Merlin's furrowed brows, Arthur said, his voice quiet, "you helped my people. Gave of your own time. Worked to make them happy. It is what a consort would do."

Merlin blushed. "It wasn't anything," he said. "It's not anything new, really. I've helped people before, for Gaius or whatever. And it wasn't that much time or anything."

But that look didn't dissipate, not even a little bit, and Merlin felt the warmth grow until it curled his toes. "But if the villagers know, Merlin, it means others do, too. If my father hasn't heard the rumor, then it won't be long before he does. And if our enemies learn..." Something dark chased over that gorgeous face. "If they learn, then you'll become a target. An easy one, because you will not be protected. Because I can't protect you yet."

Merlin smiled. "Don't worry, Arthur. I'm not nearly as defenseless as I seem."

"You're not invincible, either." Arthur's words were a lash, but they seemed to cut himself more than Merlin. He took a deep breath to recover. "That's why it's imperative I find out more about you. Your past. What you can do. How I can protect you – how you can protect yourself. And the first order of business there is to stop doing stupid, reckless things like running out after a blacksmith on your own in the middle of the day!"

Merlin, with every ounce of magnanimity, decided to leave out the reminder of having gone to Arthur to keep from doing precisely that.

"You say your magic acts on its own to protect you. Is that all the time?"

It took Merlin a minute to keep up with the change of topic. He yawned. "I don't know. I don't think so. If it did, it would have protected me from the poison, right? Or, well, maybe, since the poison had been enhanced magically."

"It had?"

Merlin waved away the question before it could pull them off-topic again. "I don't know. All my life-threatening encounters have been since meeting you." He grinned over at Arthur, but the prince did not share his amusement. "I don't regret it, you know. Meeting you. Not for a second."

And finally Arthur crumpled. It was like seeing a bunch of strings cut all at once; the weight just fell, all in that one instant. "Merlin." Arthur got up, every line of his body edged with something Merlin couldn't name, and said again, "Merlin. You idiot."

He had no idea why what he'd said made him deserve that insult, but any chance of reciprocating was lost when Arthur leaned over him on the bed, planting one forearm on either side of Merlin's head. Merlin's mouth went stone dry in the time it took for him to blink. He wondered if Arthur was going to kiss him. He'd done that, a few times, since they'd returned to Camelot. That and nothing else. But Merlin wouldn't mind even that much. It was more than they'd had when they'd been fighting.

Arthur smirked, catching Merlin's gaze on his mouth. The man truly was an insufferable clotpole. "I know the guards, the knights, are all giving you a hard time. I know you're trying to keep the worst from me in order to make me feel batter – which has the opposite effect, by the way; you should know very well I can't plan effectively when a man's withholding information. Thankfully, Gwaine has no problem telling me how badly I'm failing." Merlin's mouth opened and closed like a fish's. "I know my men have been threatening you. Gwaine, however, does not recognize them by name, so I have to beat every last one of them, because I don't know who's been foolish enough to do so. You want to make sure the innocent ones don't get punished, right?"

Merlin thought he was being herded like a recalcitrant sheep, but still he nodded. "What's going on?"

"You just said yourself. You don't know if your magic will protect you. And both of us know very well you're bollocks at protecting yourself, Merlin. So it looks like I'm going to have to do it for you."

Merlin scowled. "Hey. I'm not a damsel in distress. I don't need helping."

But Arthur just grinned outright. "You are most certainly a damsel in distress, Merlin. My damsel in distress."

Merlin scowled and bucked up, deliberately riding his breeches against Arthur's, rubbing their clothed cocks together as best he could. Arthur's eyes narrowed. "Does that feel like a damsel to you?"

Arthur leaned further down onto his arms, encasing Merlin beneath him, and rutted slowly against Merlin, this time keeping their pelvises matched together. "Names, Merlin. Now."

Merlin squirmed under the glare. It made the friction worse. His eyes nearly crossed. "Um, but Kay said they'll turn around. You know? They just need to get used to me again. They lost their trust in me–"

"I don't care. To lose their trust in you would mean to lose their trust in me. They see how much I trust you. If they don't have the same trust, it means they think I've taken leave of my senses. They don't believe I'm in my right mind. If I don't have their trust on the battlefield, it could mean their deaths. My death. The death of innocents." Arthur's words made a disturbing amount of sense. Merlin wondered when Arthur had become so wise. "So. Names."

And Merlin gave them to Arthur. There were several – more than Arthur had thought, obviously, as his brows drew closer and closer together, his lips firmed more and more, until he nearly looked like a duck, those full lips jutting out against one another. Merlin needed to kiss them more than he needed to breathe. But as soon as he leaned up to do just that, Arthur bolted up from the bed.

The rush of air was downright frigid. Merlin sat up and wrapped his arms around himself to ward off the chill.

"So many," Arthur said. And it was. Over three quarters of Arthur's men had gotten into Merlin's space, glared at him, pushed him, knocked weapons over just as he was walking past them. Smashed or broken something while looking pointedly at Merlin's neck. "This is not something I can merely beat out of them."

Merlin nearly rolled his eyes. The turn of phrase alone.

Arthur started that annoying pacing thing, and Merlin just gave up and sat back. Let him walk himself into the ground if he had to. It wasn't anything that could be taken care of, really. It was as Kay said. Merlin would simply have to show Arthur's knights that Merlin would sooner die than harm Arthur in any way. He didn't know how to do that, or if it was even possible. He couldn't show off his magic, couldn't show how he'd been protecting Arthur with it all this time. That would be tantamount to suicide. And he didn't have any other skills.

As for the servants – there wasn't a thing he could do there, either. They were suspicious of him only because the guards and knights were. If the knights started trusting Merlin again, then the rest of the staff would, too. It, too, couldn't be forced.

The people... well, none of them actually knew anything. Not yet.

"What can you do to protect yourself?" Arthur asked. "Without placing yourself in mortal danger," he added. Merlin glared.

"I don't know," he said. "I never had to try before."

Arthur stopped pacing for a moment and gave Merlin one long, hard, eyebrow-lifted stare. Merlin had the decency to blush. He conceded the silent point. "All right, fine," he said. "I just never tried it before."

Arthur sighed. Loudly.

"It's not like it would work, anyway." When Arthur cocked an eyebrow, he said, "if I used magic to try to protect myself, people would just get scared. Any use of magic, any at all, would be considered evil. That's just how people think now."

Arthur closed his eyes, scrunched his face, but didn't argue. "I can't trust the knights to protect you," Arthur said, "and Gwaine can't be everywhere, taking care of everything. He'll need help."

Merlin bit his lip. "Well..."

Arthur seared him with a look. "What?"

"Well, we know of someone who you would consider for a knighthood, don't we?"

Arthur blinked. Gaped. Grinned like a feral cat. "Well, Merlin! Sometimes a good idea really does rattle around in that brain of yours." He frowned. "Now how to contact him?"

"Leave that to me," Merlin said with a grin. The look Arthur sent him did not hold much confidence, and Merlin swatted at Arthur before he even realized he was doing it. He froze for an instant; they hadn't done anything like that in weeks. Since Arthur had found out. But when Arthur caught his hesitation, he didn't turn away or frown, but instead grabbed Merlin's hand and yanked him back into a seated position. "The villagers love me right now, remember? Or at least, they very definitely want to suck up to me. So I ask them to send along a message to Lancelot. They'll fall all over themselves trying to do it for me."

Arthur grinned. "Tell them their prince asks it of them, as well."

Merlin nodded, thrilled that Arthur was trusting him with such a thing. It may have been small, but it was more than Merlin had allowed himself to hope for these last few weeks.

Then he realized that, if Arthur's name was put on the query, any kickback that occurred thanks to Merlin being on the king's shit list would keep both him and Arthur's people from any danger. The thought had Merlin looking up at Arthur like he had just risen from the east. "You will be a great king," he said, and Arthur shivered.

He stalked back over to Merlin, cupped his face in both hands and dragged Merlin into a kiss. Merlin's breath caught in Arthur's mouth, and he froze for a half second before melting into the heat, his heart nearly bursting. His hands trailed up to Arthur's neck, to the hair at the nape, and he folded into Arthur's body above his. He hadn't been kissed so fiercely in weeks. Over a month. Since that day. He pulled Arthur closer, until they both fell over the side of the bed, lips still pressed together. The world dwindled to heat and light, starbursts that echoed in his magic, just under his skin. He couldn't be more in love.

Arthur dipped his tongue into Merlin's mouth, then again, further, deeper, devouring him. Merlin shook as Arthur leaned back up, those hands still holding Merlin's cheeks in place. "When you look at me like that," he said, his voice nearly a groan, and he plunged straight back down. Merlin flailed, his body squirming underneath, not knowing what to do with such intensity. He tried to match speed, but he was lost before he'd begun. Arthur just pulled him into his heat, finally moving one hand down to Merlin's back, lifting him until they fit together like puzzle pieces. And then he slipped his tongue around Merlin's and sucked. Merlin's eyes crossed.

Finally Arthur let go, and those blue eyes glittered down on Merlin like a king's jewels. "You look at me as if I'm a god. You can't know what that's like."

Merlin smiled. "Sexy?"

Arthur groaned and kissed him again.

There were no more questions that evening.

---

Merlin blinked open his eyes. They stuck a bit, and he rubbed them to clear the gunk away. It took only a slight turn of his head to see Arthur sitting at his desk, finishing up what looked to be the last piece of paper there – though no doubt a new pile awaited him as soon as he opened his doors. Merlin yawned.

"Good morning, idiot." Arthur didn't even turn his head. "Thanks for falling asleep in the middle of that, by the way. It's good for the self-esteem."

"Your self-esteem could use a few hits," Merlin said, yawning again. He was actually pretty amazed he'd managed to sleep after those kisses – which had lasted a very long, very nicely long amount of time. But then again, could anyone blame him? The bed was like a cloud. "Maybe you should get a less comfortable bed if you want to sit people down on them."

Arthur did give him a look this time, and Merlin wondered if he should be concerned about the hunter's stare he received. "I'll keep that in mind for next time."

Merlin blushed at the implication, even as his mind skittered to a halt. "You mean... there'll be a next time?"

Arthur opened his mouth for a retort, then paused when he realized Merlin was being serious. "Of course," he said, and stopped again when he saw the wide-eyed, almost teary look on Merlin's face. But instead of calling him a girl, as usual, he dropped his quill and strode over to Merlin. He knelt by the side of the bed, and as Merlin scrambled to sit up, grabbed his hand. "I know what my reticence has seemed like. I know I made you think I hold no more regard for you. But rest assured that I've learned my lesson there. You told me once that your feelings hadn't changed, even if mine had. Merlin, my feelings for you never changed."

Merlin's mind blanked, then whirred at high speed. "But... you said the reason you started hating me was because of the lies."

Arthur frowned. "I never said any such thing."

"I said I thought you hated me because I didn't try to break free from the tomb. You said the lies were the reason." Merlin looked down at the blankets. They were stuffed with fluffy fleece, and Merlin felt a small sweep of envy, because comfy. And thank goodness his mind refused to dwell on his own words. Dwelling would be bad.

Arthur tugged on Merlin's fingers until Merlin's entire body was half-pulled to the edge of the bed. "Merlin, look at me."

Merlin did. Arthur was scowling. "I never finished that sentence, Merlin, because I knew what it would mean! I was angry, stupidly angry, and I took it out on you, and I let the phrase go when I shouldn't have. I should have corrected you then." Arthur's lips thinned. "I have many things to answer for."

"Arthur." Merlin shifted on the bed, somehow only then realizing he'd been lying on top of the blankets the night before, and now found his feet encased beneath. Which meant Arthur had actually tucked him in. It took some serious shifting, and a bit of scrabbling, and Merlin nearly fell off the bed once, but he managed to get himself extricated and sitting up.

Arthur stood just as Merlin got himself situated. He had a look on his face that said he didn't want to be disturbed. Merlin looked around. It was dark out, he noticed, and the curtains had once more been opened, letting in the moonlight as Arthur worked, two candles flickering idly on either side of his desk. Even though Arthur had most likely worked his butt off to make sure they could have the time that day to discuss everything, Arthur had still let Merlin lie in. Merlin sighed. "Your eyesight's going to go bad, you keep doing that."

"My eyesight is just fine," Arthur said. "Perhaps yours is just weak."

Merlin rolled his eyes. A horrible idea entered his head, and he shifted, hunched down, played with the seam of the blanket. "Merlin, stop wrecking my bed."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "I can just make it again."

"I don't want you anywhere near a needle and thread," Arthur said, staring at the paper on his desk with a slight glare.

"I wouldn't have to be near them," he said, the joke nearly horrifying him as it came out.

Arthur looked up at it, mouth slightly agape, blue eyes widening, narrowing, widening. And Arthur said, "what?"

What had he been thinking? Merlin shivered. It had just popped out. He couldn't believe it. Arthur still had only started to accept the idea of magic as anything other than evil, let alone Merlin having such capabilities. He opened his mouth to apologize, then hesitated, not sure how the apology would be received.

"Merlin, explain."

Merlin shrugged and stood, wondering if Arthur ever got his dinner. His own stomach rumbled slightly at the thought of food. "Something like that is pretty simple, actually. Maybe because I did it so often as a kid? Cleaning up with my magic, I mean." He ignored the way his lips fumbled on the word magic. If he could sound natural speaking of it, maybe Arthur would learn to, as well.

"Hold on." Arthur held up a hand. "Have you been using magic to do your chores?"

Merlin didn't need to look to know Arthur was glaring warningly at him, but he did, anyway, because it was a kick to learn Arthur worried more about Merlin being caught than about Merlin being able to use magic. He shrugged and hid his smile. "Maybe you shouldn't give me so many chores."

"Merlin! Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

He didn't even bother trodding down that old path. "Gaius has already warned me."

"Apparently Gaius isn't strict enough!"

"What would you have me do, Arthur? Magic is in my blood. It's who I am. It would be like – like trying to take the prince out of you. No matter what, where you go, what you do, you are always, first and foremost, a prince. Every part of you screams it. What about me? How am I supposed to take away something that's a piece of me?"

Arthur's mouth snapped shut. Merlin could see the war going on inside him – the one that said he couldn't allow Merlin to continue, and the one that said he could never not be a prince, and that, if Merlin's magic was the same, then he understood. Merlin waited only a few moments. "I've tried to be as careful as possible. I let my guard down when I'm with Gaius or in my room, and I don't have time to worry about it when I'm protecting you. But despite how many times I've used magic around you, you haven't noticed once. People don't look for magic with me. When they see me, all they see is a bumbling servant." And Merlin gave Arthur his best goofy grin.

It made Arthur narrow his eyes. Merlin remembered the real reason Arthur had been angry – the lies, the falseness of his relationship with the Merlin he'd thought he'd known – and quickly dropped the grin. "Here," he said, and carefully moved to cover the windows once more. Arthur's brows pulled low, but by the time Merlin closed the second and third windows, the looked changed to one of dawning comprehension. Merlin watched it, watched as Arthur shifted from surprise to wide-eyed, breath-stopping panic, before finally narrowing to something assessing, almost menacing. When Merlin stopped, hesitated before Arthur, Arthur nodded.

He took a deep breath. Then a deeper one, because the first got caught in his chest. He held out his hand, and it shook. "Leoht."

The orb glowed in the room as it grew above his hand, bathing the room in light blue luminescence. Arthur's eyes widened almost comically. Merlin felt so much fear it was like a lance through him; his entire body shivered, and he gasped. Arthur leaned forward, almost as if entranced, and slowly, so slowly Merlin thought Arthur's muscles should take offense, he stood. "I've seen this before," Arthur said. Merlin almost pulled away as Arthur came forward; his heart beat like a bird's, jamming his throat. Arthur reached out, almost surprised at the lack of heat. His fingers stopped just before touching the orb. "When I went after the morteus flower, when you were dying."

The morteus flower – when he'd been unconscious, dying of poison. Gaius had told Merlin that he'd conjured a ball of light, and Merlin thought he remembered Arthur's reticence on what had happened. Gaius had said Arthur had received magical help. It hadn't taken Merlin and Gaius long to figure out Merlin's magic had probably reached Arthur somehow, but it was something else again to have the theory verified. Merlin dropped his hand, and his gaze, not knowing what to say.

"You were dying," Arthur said again. "And still you saved me."

Merlin looked up all over again at the tone of Arthur's voice. He didn't seem afraid, or even angry, as Merlin had half expected. Instead he looked... it was almost fear, but not quite. Merlin didn't know what it was. Awe, almost, but weighted. Like Arthur had found himself at the head of an army and just then realized that every man's sword would aim wherever he pointed, and that every man would kill, and die, without a blink, without thought. The weight of regard, Merlin realized finally.

Still, despite how Arthur looked at the knowledge of what Merlin could – would – had – done for him, still Merlin said, quietly, reverently, "anything for you, Arthur." He smiled, trying to lighten the mood a bit. "It's in my blood, it seems. I did it while I was unconscious," he explained at Arthur's blank look.

Arthur rubbed a hand down his face. "You were unconscious."

Merlin nodded. "Apparently I was mumbling as the illness got worse. And then I did that. Without specific incantation, too. Gaius was impressed."

Arthur seemed impressed, too. Or maybe disturbed. "Did anyone else hear you?"

Merlin shook his head. "Gaius didn't say anything about it, and he would have, if it had been an issue."

Arthur didn't seem as ready to accept that as Merlin, but he let it slide. "What else can you do? You said you were already lifting things and moving them when you were a child. You played with the leaves? Manipulated water?"

"I didn't manipulate it, per se. Just made it move. It's not the same as, say, freezing it or burning it into steam." Merlin flushed a bit. "Though, I think I could do that, too." Arthur's impressed/disturbed stare returned. Merlin shrugged. "I don't know. Whenever I need it, it works for me. Whatever I need. If I practice a spell, I become even better at it."

"You practice spells?" Arthur asked.

"No, I leave your life up to chance." He gave Arthur a look, but the prince merely glared at it. Joking was out, then. Merlin sighed. "What do you want, Arthur? It's better that I learn how to control it, isn't it? And I only use it for you. Always. If I can't protect you, then what use is my magic?"

Arthur shivered. Outright shivered, and that near-terrified look came back. Merlin didn't understand why Arthur looked that way. He had a contingent of knights who followed his every beck and call. Every single person in Camelot looked to him for guidance, safety, protection; even, come winter, sustenance. The whole of the kingdom looked to him as the next leader, the one who would one day rule over them all. Everyone's hopes and dreams had always, in some way or another, rested on Arthur's shoulders. Why did knowing Merlin's did, too, awaken in him this concern?

But he knew better than to ask. Arthur would just lie and say he felt no such thing. The man truly was, in every way, a complete and total prat.

Arthur waved toward his bed as he turned away, looking like he needed to test his blade out on something or else he would go mad. "Get some rest," he said, as if Merlin hadn't just woken up a few moments ago. "I need to see to some things, and it's too late to fetch Gwaine. I'll lock the door behind me. You should be safe." Arthur turned to Merlin. "Do not leave this room. Do you understand me?"

It wouldn't be the first time Merlin nearly pulled an all-nighter in Arthur's room, but it was certainly the first time he'd been ordered to rest, and definitely the first time Arthur hadn't been inside. "Do you think I'll be attacked by the guards or something?" Though Merlin didn't half doubt it.

"Do you think I'm taking the chance?" Arthur said, his gaze already far off, on something else.

"What are these 'other things' you have to take care of? You didn't forget about something. You would have triple-checked everything before starting this whole thing."

Arthur gave Merlin a sideways glance. "Don't worry about it, Merlin. I just need to check on a few things."

Did Merlin want to know which things? "Something I said brought this up?"

Arthur didn't even bother answering that one, which meant he thought it so obvious it didn't require answering. Merlin went through a mental checklist of everything he'd spoken of – having magic, it working whenever he needed it, needing to train his magic, using it for Arthur. He couldn't think of a single thing that Arthur could have touched on to need to go do something.

He hung around beside the bedpost as Arthur grabbed his sword and moved to the door. Then Arthur stopped, stood still for a moment, and turned right back around, nearly storming up to Merlin. "Here." And Arthur pulled out his dagger, the one he always kept at his side. Just in case. "Do not use your magic if something goes wrong, not unless you absolutely have to. My number one rule remains the same: do not die. But do try to not be a complete idiot about protecting yourself."

Arthur's words may have been a bit nonsensical, but Merlin understood all the same. He clutched Arthur's dagger to his chest. "I'll be careful, Arthur."

Arthur snorted as if he couldn't help but not believe a single word of that, but he nodded and turned to go all the same. "Just... keep the dagger close. Even when you sleep, keep it under your pillow." Arthur eyed his bed. "And try not to hog the entire bed. I will want to get some sleep sometime tonight."

Merlin's brain fried at the idea of sleeping with Arthur. By the time he managed to get the vision of Arthur's naked chest spooned against his own out of his mind, Arthur had already left, locking the door behind him.

---

Merlin was immediately aware of the warmth that pressed around him, pulling him from the dark edges of sleep. The blankets shuffed quietly as Arthur snuggled underneath. Merlin didn't move. He half expected Arthur to kick him out, or tell him to busy himself with chores, but instead Arthur just pulled him close, one hand over his heart in that habit he'd picked up on that last ride back to Camelot, and sighed as if releasing himself of a great burden. Merlin listened, ready for Arthur to comment on Merlin's heartbeat, or breathing, to say he knew Merlin was awake, or maybe just skip that part and ask Merlin a question. But he didn't. He just snuggled closer – Arthur snuggled – and settled, his breath already half-slowed in slumber. Each breath puffed hotly against Merlin's neck.

And suddenly he had a problem.

Merlin wasn't the randiest guy in town. That title would most likely have to go to Gwaine, who had already shared four more stories of women he'd picked up, even though most of his time in Camelot was spent watching after Merlin. So no, Merlin certainly wasn't the type to think constantly on sex. But that was not to say that he didn't have his moments of sitting in his room above Gaius and biting his lip to stay quiet while he took things in hand. At first, when he'd initially come to Camelot, his visions had been of Morgana, and a couple of times before her death, Freya. But over time, it had been Arthur. Once, Lancelot. But over and over again, Arthur, until he was in every one. And then when Arthur had turned from him, he'd been unable to take care of the problem – every time he tried, the vision of Arthur, his eyes full of betrayal and anger, left Merlin half-flaccid and too hurt to continue.

And now that was all coming back to bite him in the ass.

It took about two seconds to go from drowsy and limp to awake and hard as a rock. Arthur's breath slowly evened out as Merlin kept himself stone still, each of those breaths curling the hairs on the nape of his neck and basically leaving him wanting to dry hump air. His heart skittered wildly as he took each breath, trying for slow and steady and getting more stuttered and desperate.

He knew it was too early for them to go back to their old selves sexually. There was a level of trust to getting naked between them that they hadn't quite returned to. Or at least, Merlin hadn't thought they'd yet returned to it. Yet here Arthur was, hugging Merlin to him as he slept. It was something Arthur hadn't done before Merlin had given away his secret, let alone...

It crashed together as Arthur stiffened behind him. Merlin felt that breath on his neck speed up. Arthur's fist clenched, and suddenly flattened out over Merlin's chest. A few moments of tension later, during which Merlin wondered if Arthur had woken up, Arthur relaxed again. His breaths evened out once more.

Arthur was having nightmares.

For a full ten minutes, the guilt swamped him. Arthur's hand over his heart was to hear it beat. If Arthur had been having nightmares – presumably about the time when Merlin's magic had encased him in time, preventing even his heart from beating – then that meant Merlin was in his bed not as a guest, per se, but as a ward against those dreams.

But then something warm slithered guiltily under the cracks of his shame, and he blinked into the night as it nested inside him. Happiness. Guilty pleasure, that Arthur's nightmares were for Merlin's safety. It was a thought he'd never considered getting the chance to have. Another piece of proof that maybe, just maybe, he'd been wrong, and that Arthur really did care about him. Even with his magic.

Merlin curled his own fingers through Arthur's, until their hands lay entwined over his heart. "I love you," he whispered.

And he finally relaxed into sleep.

---

The next day was strange; while he still got the normal amount of glares and snide remarks, everyone seemed to back off a little bit. Apparently sleeping with Arthur through the night and both of them coming out of the experience alive was worth a few brownie points. Of course, a few men gave him a look that said they knew his sex with Arthur was actually a druidic ritual for evil love enchantments. Or, well, something to that effect. Gwaine scared them off, so that was worth something. And maybe that was another reason Arthur brought Gwaine to every practice – so his men could see how strong he was, and they would back down rather than start something.

Or maybe, Merlin mused, he was giving Arthur way too much credit.

Either way, he didn't get the same level of harassment as usual, and that made him much happier when he was forced to attend the usual judicial meeting Uther held every few days for his people. Arthur, of course, sat by Uther's side, and Merlin stood by Arthur's, despite the twitching it gave Uther. Arthur listened attentively to everything each of his people said, and when it came time to decide what to do, Arthur made sure his father was fair in all dealings. Every time Arthur spoke, asking for clarification on one man's issue with another man's fencing, calming his father to reason when Uther heard of 'spiritual crystals' hanging over a woman's crib, his heart nearly burst. He couldn't believe he didn't have the love inside him stamped all over his forehead; how could anyone doubt how he felt? Arthur caught his eye when it was all nearly over, and they stared for a moment at one another. Merlin smiled at him, and Arthur... was that a blush? No, but nearly; Arthur turned back around before it could grow.

Uther caught the look, however, and called a halt to the procession of injuries. The people slowly filed out, used to Uther's odd moods, Merlin supposed. He instantly felt guilty when Uther said, "Arthur. A word," and glared around with a snarled, "alone."

People made themselves scarce. Merlin knew Arthur was about to listen to another lecture on Merlin's evil and felt... angry? No. Defensive? No. But like he wanted to shield Arthur from it. If he could, he would stand in front of Arthur and demand Uther take it out on him. But that would mean facing the pyre, and even if Merlin was suicidal (which he was not, thank you), he'd made a promise to Arthur, and a promise to Arthur was a vow he had to keep.

He left the room before Uther could find an excuse to throw him in the dungeons or something, but when he left, he realized that Gwaine might not have known about the sudden end to the meeting, which he always studiously avoided. And sure enough, Gwaine was not present. Merlin warred with himself. On one hand, the very idea of being frightened to walk along the halls chafed at him like mad. On the other, he knew very well it was a sound fear. While he hadn't been outright mauled all day, that wasn't exactly a winning study of love and warmth from those in the castle.

Of course, if he showed fear, wouldn't that be an instigator? Wouldn't that be fueling the fire? Or would walking around like nothing was wrong make the guards angry?

Well, he couldn't stay by the door without seeming like an eavesdropper, so he made an executive decision to go to Gaius', or maybe Arthur's room, and wait in there where it was primarily safe.

He'd managed about two halls before someone shouted his name.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when Kay sidled up next to him.

"Merlin." Kay frowned down at him. Merlin shifted from foot to foot. He didn't think Kay was going to attack him, not after that lovely speech all those days ago, but his nervousness spiked nonetheless. There was no longer anyone beside him to glare the knights into submission. "What are you doing alone?"

He pointed back toward the throne room, wondering if he'd seen Kay within or not. "They adjourned early, so..."

Kay's frown deepened. It nearly left grooves in his cheeks. "You shouldn't be out here without Gwaine or someone else trustworthy by your side."

Merlin shifted again. "I know. I'm on my way to Arthur's room."

"Then I will escort you."

Merlin blinked. "O-Okay."

Kay shook his head. He looked like he was about to say something, but he apparently chose silence and simply motioned Merlin forward. Merlin followed Kay, but Kay just frowned at him until finally Merlin slipped in front of him. Then they continued.

It was an awkward, silent march toward Arthur's rooms, but while a few guards and knights turned their gazes on Merlin and Kay, none of them stepped forward. He saw several odd glances being turned in Kay's direction, however, and Merlin frowned at it. "Are they going to give you a hard time because of this?" he asked, only a few hallways between them and the sanctity of Arthur's bedroom.

"More likely they'll stop giving you such a hard time."

Merlin slipped back into silence, brow furrowed, until the made it to the door of Arthur's chambers. It was odd how calm Merlin felt as soon as the room was before him. He touched the frame of the door. "I won't say I'm not still suspicious," Kay said, drawing Merlin's attention back to him. Merlin shifted from foot to foot all over again, not sure if he should be wary or not. "I probably always will be. But I remember the day you first entered the castle, and the days following. I know, no matter what you are or are not, you are Arthur's servant first and foremost."

Merlin nearly crumbled at the feel of warmth. The man's gaze was steady. He didn't look away. "I know you have no reason to believe me," Merlin said, "but I would die for Arthur. I would never do anything to take away who he is."

It was as close to an admission as he dared. His heart nearly beat out of his chest. But Kay only nodded and opened Arthur's door. "Get inside," he said gruffly. "I'll be sure to let the prince know where you are."

Merlin beamed at him, hoping the man could understand somehow the measure of Merlin's gratitude. "Thank you."

Kay just ushered him in and closed the door behind him. Even though it wasn't locked, Merlin knew no one would dare enter the prince's chamber without permission. Only Merlin had the audacity to do that.

It was sad what a relief that was.

He went to the bed, even though he'd made it earlier, when he'd first gotten Arthur up. (And it was also sad that he woke up before Arthur, sad and telling, because Merlin loved his sleep.) He caressed the coverlets, even though they were completely unwrinkled already. Then he ran a hand through his hair.

Arthur had somehow spoken sense into Kay, whatever 'sense' even meant when this sort of situation was applied. Merlin, supposed sorcerer, was defended by his prince and called out to not be a sorcerer, even though both he and Arthur knew damn well he was.

Well, to be fair, though Arthur had heavily implied he wasn't magic, he'd never actively denied it, either. But Arthur wouldn't see the difference, and neither would his knights. Merlin could, but then again, Merlin was a liar through and through. The thought made him shiver. He didn't like that truth about himself.

But... it was hope. Hope that, maybe, over time, Arthur's men might not hate him so thoroughly. Merlin's heart beat at the thought. Of course, they couldn't know about his magic. If they did, the suspicion would turn to outright violence. And it hurt, a bit, to know that. But their opinions weren't the ones he cared so much about. He could survive their hatred. It was Arthur's that would crush him.

And it was amazing, spectacular, miraculous, because the anger seemed to have blown over. Arthur accepted him again.

He picked up a pillow and hugged it, pretending in his mind that he was just fluffing it, because it was girly and ridiculous but he just felt like if he didn't hold something to his chest, it just might break apart and fly to the heavens. Arthur accepted him.

That's what it meant, right, to listen to Merlin ramble on about his magic and yell at him only because Merlin had been stupid and reckless and not because... because he was who he was?

He hugged the pillow closer. It almost hurt, this feeling of hope inside of him.

That would be when he heard something, an almost slithering noise, from behind him, and turned in time to see something crawling like a millipede across the floor. He yelped and backed away; the thing reared up, and on instinct, Merlin used his magic to fling it away. It slapped against the wall, splatted a bit, and fell back to the floor. Merlin held out his hand. "Behéh in wapul!"

Pain lanced through him. He gasped.

Merlin's magic encased the creature before it could charge him again, and, finally trapped, Merlin could see it. He'd been wrong to call it a millipede; it seemed to only have a single pair of feet. The rest, he couldn't quite say. The size of a large rat, it was long, serpentine save for the two legs, with a head that looked insanely like an arrow.

Merlin looked around. The setting didn't change. He was still in Arthur's room. His throat bobbed. This attack hadn't been meant for him.

Arthur. Where was Arthur?

He spun around, intending to rush down to the throne room, threats to his safety be damned, but he stopped. Not because he was afraid, but because Arthur might have managed to squeeze himself free from Uther. And if he had, then he could be anywhere. Maybe Kay hadn't gotten to him yet. Or maybe he was on his way up at that very moment, and Merlin might leave him alone in the bedroom with weird creatures trying to attack him. First and foremost, he needed to make sure the place was safe.

Steadily feeding the cage a bit of his magic to ensure the creature's frantic hops didn't actually break through the barrier, he quickly scanned the room, then did a walk-through, stepping around, trying to incite any more creatures into jumping up and attacking him. When that didn't happen, he ducked down onto his hands and knees and started putting his hand under the bed, the cabinets; he opened closet doors and rooted around inside. Opened cabinet doors. Tossed way Arthur's food and drink, just in case; he could go and get more later. The creature slammed bodily into the magic barrier over and over again; Merlin could feel each pound as a sort of reverberation against his magic.

The door opened as Merlin ripped the covers off the bed, and he heard Arthur say, "Merlin, what exactly are you doing?" before he whipped around.

"Arthur! Don't come in; I haven't cleared the room yet."

But Arthur's eyes had already caught on the creature suspended in Merlin's sphere of magic, and he slammed the door closed behind him. "Merlin! What are you thinking?!" And he raced heedlessly through the room to pull the blinds closed. Merlin shadowed him, hands up, ready to grab at any creature that might launch itself at his king. Arthur whirled on him. He caught Merlin's body still prepared for attack, and something strange contorted his expression. Merlin dropped his arms, horrified. Arthur still thought...

But then the look faded and Arthur grabbed his shoulders. "Stop performing magic in the open, you idiot!" he hissed, and looked over to the other windows, still letting in the afternoon light. He let go and hurried to them. "What's going on?"

"I don't know. I came to your room because the court adjourned early and Gwaine wasn't there," he said, and Arthur nodded, his lips thin. He had to have been told where Merlin was by Kay; normally Arthur stormed about the castle after dealing with his father, or he started another training session with his knights to let off steam. The last thing he did was coop himself up in his room; it looked like a kind of defeat. "And that thing launched itself at me – Arthur, it was obviously meant for you, I wasn't meant to come back into this room for hours yet–"

"And if I hadn't argued with my father, I would be up here dealing with those," he said, gesturing to the ridiculous pile of papers that had managed to warp onto his desk in the few hours they'd been away. It looked to be nearly three inches thick. Arthur would have been at it until dinnertime. Something ticked in Arthur's jaw. "You're all right?" And he looked Merlin up and down.

"Yes," Merlin said, amazed once again that Arthur was showing concern for him. The look earlier deadened the happiness. The suspicion wasn't completely gone. But Arthur had dismissed it, and that, Merlin told himself firmly, was still a good sign. "I'm used to surprise attacks after being around you for so long."

Merlin tried a smile at that, but Arthur's lips just thinned a little more. He gestured for Merlin to take off his shirt. "You're usually fumbling like an idiot, Merlin; I'm often amazed you don't trip and impale yourself on a sword."

Merlin actually grabbed the hem of his shirt as Arthur stepped forward, but it was in an effort to keep it on. He didn't want to bare himself to Arthur when Arthur still wasn't ready to accept Merlin as his lover again. When Arthur still thought, even for an instant, that Merlin might have been about to attack him. "I'm not that bad! And it didn't even touch me. It didn't get close enough. I'm fine."

"I'll be the judge of that." And Arthur's hands curled over Merlin's, yanking up while Merlin pushed down. Of course Arthur was stronger than him physically, and Merlin's heart sped up as Arthur forced him to bare his midriff. Arthur huffed. "Stop being an idiot, Merlin. You and I both know I've seen it all."

Merlin blushed, mortified. "But not like this," he said without thinking. He wished he could clamp his lips shut as Arthur hesitated, clearly understanding.

But then Arthur said, "don't be ridiculous; I've seen you shirtless before, you idiot, when you've needed it." And he forced Merlin's shirt off despite him, mostly because Merlin's resistance was nearly making the stitching rip, and Merlin didn't want to deal with losing a shirt or stitching it up all night. Not when he potentially had a new enemy to search for.

And thus the shirt came off, Merlin forced to oblige Arthur's whims as the shirt yanked on his arms. He shivered as Arthur looked him up and down, made him turned around. The hand on his shoulder nearly burned.

"Now your pants," Arthur said, and he squawked.

"No!" He backed up, nearly bumping into the stupid creature. It thumped angrily against its cage. "I'm fine, Arthur! It really didn't touch me. I swear. I caught it before it could. Blasted it away, actually," he said, and gestured toward the wall, where a small dot of green blood – or bright mucus? – painted the wall.

Arthur's gaze was assessing, almost dark, before he said, "fine." He hesitated. "Do you have any way of finding out where it came from? Who sent it here?"

"It might not have been sent. It's small. People might have mistaken it for a mouse." But Merlin chewed his lip, because he didn't think that was the case. And by the look on Arthur's face, he didn't, either. "I don't know," he said finally. I've never... but I can try."

He moved toward the thing, still encased in his little bubble. Arthur hurried over to the other two windows and closed them, as well. Then he marched over to his door and locked it. Merlin hadn't thought to do it; he was used to having to be openly clandestine. He was proud of himself for not instinctively trying to hide the creature or distract Arthur out of the room, as he would have just over a month ago. It was like every part of him had wanted Arthur to know, and the disguise he constantly maintained just dropped away.

Either that or he'd become complacent, knowing Uther already knew. And he hoped that wasn't the case.

He'd never used his magic to try to trace something back to its source before. And he'd certainly never used it to trace a magic user. He wondered if there were repercussions for that. He wondered if the magic user would trace him back, too. But Arthur had asked him to use his magic, and it was a wondrous, glorious feeling, having Arthur know about his magic, accept it, make plans involving it. To trust Merlin with a responsibility. To be willing to see Merlin's magic in action and not send him straight to the pyre.

His hands trembled. His magic roared around him, practically bouncing as he willed it, with everything he was, to work, because like never before, he wanted to make something happen. He wanted to show Arthur what his magic could do for him. What it could be. That it was merely an ability, and could be used for any purpose. And he desperately wanted to show Arthur just how much Merlin wanted to use it for him.

He wasn't sure if there was a way to track magic through a creature. But was it normal for such a thing to show up in his room? Was it normal for it to try to attack over and over, without rest, even though it was trapped? He didn't know enough about the creature to be sure, but he was willing to bet the answer was no. So he focused on that and let his magic flow. "Ábeþece drýcræft!"

His magic surged, wrapping around its own sphere and pulsing before moving inward and encasing the creature, and the pain rose again, curling out from his chest to the rest of his body. Merlin bit his lip. The bubble encasing the creature alone was enough to make his magic pulse, then the creature made it pulse again, finding more magic, but he pushed harder, further, wrapping around the thing once more before sinking into its scales, then slipping through it. And finally his magic pulsed again, not with the recognition of his own magic or the recognition of a magical creature, but to something different. Something alien. Merlin's breath stuttered. "Áspyre!"

And his magic trailed out past the wall of Arthur's room and down to the street below. Merlin thought his heart would burst.

He gasped. "It worked," he said, and dared to turn to Arthur. He was staring at Merlin like he was an alien, yet even as Merlin shrank into himself, he noticed it wasn't condemning. Arthur didn't look like he wanted to pull out his sword and stab it through Merlin's neck.

No. Instead, he almost looked like he thought Merlin might be some sort of celestial being. Merlin took a deep breath. "Arthur," he said, and it seemed almost like the prince was snapped from some sort of trance.

"Merlin. Your eyes." And as Merlin just blinked, Arthur stepped into his space and brushed Merlin's bangs from his face, cupped his cheek. "They're golden."

It took Merlin a split second to realize Arthur wasn't waxing poetic. "Oh. Yes, apparently my eyes, um, do that when I perform magic."

Merlin could almost hear Arthur's heart rate increase. "Even more trouble," he said, yet his voice was breathy.

"Arthur," he said again, cutting off wherever Arthur might have been heading with the increasingly odd conversation. "This... is hard. And it goes down." He looked again from the creature to the wall, where the feel of his magic tugged downward. He shivered. "We have to hurry to find it."

He didn't tell Arthur the rest – that using his magic seemed to be painful. He didn't understand it. He would need to speak to Gaius.

Arthur ran a hand through his hair. "Merlin, your eyes are lit like the sun. If you leave this room..." He covered his mouth with one hand, thinking. "If you peek out, can you give me the general direction? It's the best we can do."

Merlin gave Arthur a scandalized look. "And send you out against someone who wants you dead with no protection? No. I can go. I can keep my head down."

"No," Arthur said. "If that's what's necessary, then we'll let it go."

Merlin's jaw dropped.

"Don't you understand yet, Merlin? If you go out there, if one of the knights sees you, you'll be thrown on the pyre before we can so much as take another step!" Arthur moved to the window Merlin had sent a quick look to and pulled back a sliver of the curtain. The ray of light beamed across the floor. "Now look out. And if you can't do more, then that's fine. We can search for the sorcerer through conventional means."

Merlin gave Arthur a look, despite the pain that made his limbs ache. The look plainly said what he thought about the success rate of 'conventional means.'

But Arthur was adamant, and short of going behind his back – which Merlin couldn't do and expect to retain the trust that was still recovering between them – he couldn't go against Arthur's wishes. He wondered if he could hold the creature in its bubble long enough for them to try again later, that night. Probably not; the pain was getting too distracting as it was. But maybe he could follow the trail of magic without actually leaving the room? It was their best shot.

Merlin crept toward the window, but he pinched his eyes shut and struggled to follow the thread of magic. It was easy at first; it traveled up the wall of the castle, following the path the creature had taken, then slithered across the grass beside the castle walls. But then it got messy; the path snaked outside of Camelot, dimming the further away it got, and Merlin heaved in a breath as he struggled to follow the line. Then it thickened, just a bit – no longer following the creature, but the one who enchanted it – and the line of magic turned, heading straight back for Camelot, and slid through the entrance to the lower town. That's where Merlin started shaking, started losing the trail for bits and pieces at a time; while the lines traveled, it curved, shifted, and there were so many other feet. Once, the feel nearly got pulled into another direction, as the line of the person he followed got crossed with someone else with magic. But he managed to catch it. His knees buckled.

Arthur's hand gripped his arm, keeping him from smashing to the floor. Merlin clutched the hand on his and followed the trail along the ground, through groups that got thicker and thicker as the trail led closer and closer to the merchants' square. He nearly lost it completely as it turned toward what Merlin thought was the tailor's, then the jeweler's. He thought he might be getting close. Nearly. Almost.

"Merlin!"

He lost it.

Merlin fell to the floor, dragging Arthur down with him. He gasped and shivered and groaned slightly as every one of his muscles pulled as if torn. When Merlin reached for the thread again, he found himself trailing it down the wall of Camelot again. He gasped in a breath, ready to follow the trail again, but found himself being dragged into Arthur's chest. "Enough! Stop! I demand you stop now, Merlin. Stop."

It was the broken sound of Arthur's voice that got Merlin to let go of his magic. When he did, he nearly collapsed into Arthur's arms. He struggled; the pain was still there, an ache that pulled on everything, nearly making his flesh like hot coals, because he'd at least kept the presence of mind to keep the creature in its makeshift cell. "Arthur, I – kill it. It's cursed to attack you or die trying. I can't..."

Arthur scowled, but he moved Merlin to the bed, leaned him against the side of it, and rose. One fluid movement later and his sword was in his hand. It passed through Merlin's shield like butter, accepted as part of Arthur, as an extension of Arthur's own arm, and Merlin would allow Arthur anything. And so it passed through, cut the creature in half with one clean strike, and shone as Merlin finally let the shield fall. The creature fell with a wet plop. It did not rise.

Then Arthur was back at Merlin's side, sword on the ground beside him, feeling Merlin's face, his chest – and those fingers paused long enough to feel Merlin's slightly unsteady heartbeat – before Arthur pulled up the sleeve on Merlin's right arm. Merlin huffed. "It's not that," he said, but Arthur glared him into silence.

"Is this normal?" he demanded. "Is this what your magic costs you?"

Merlin shook his head. "I don't know what this is," he said. "It's never happened before."

And that alarmed Arthur enough that he motioned for Merlin to get up. Merlin cocked a brow. "The jeweler's," he said. "Leading over to the potter's. It was probably a woman, unless the man was pretending to shop for a woman. I know the first shop – a tailor's, specializing in dresses and sashes. Gwen always looks at the clothes in there." He smiled a bit wanly at Arthur. "I've tried to find out which dress she liked best so I could tell you."

Arthur's face flashed a million pictures. Merlin didn't bother trying to read them all. Not just then.

"Then it was the jeweler's. Pretty obvious there. And then the potter. It was most likely a woman. But I couldn't get a read on it in time." Merlin frowned. "I'm sorry, Arthur. I might have been able to get more if I didn't..." And then he trailed off, because he wasn't quite sure just what it was he didn't do or need or have.

Arthur's gaze traveled from the dead creature to Merlin and back. Merlin could see the war in him. "I'm fine enough," he said, and managed to somehow earn his glare with that small sentence alone. He chose to ignore it. "It's not life-threatening. I just won't use my magic. I'll be okay."

Arthur looked at war with himself. Merlin realized that he might have returned to 'helpless' in Arthur's eyes, wondered if Arthur was thinking back on when they'd been attacked by bandits and Merlin's head had nearly been cleaved from his shoulders. Without his magic, he was back to being the foolishly loyal manservant without a piss of fighting ability to protect him. And leaving his helpless lover in a dangerous situation scratched against everything Arthur was.

Merlin pushed lightly against Arthur's chest. "Go, idiot. I'll be right here when you get back."

Arthur sighed. "Will you be all right?" He tried to sound sarcastic, flippant, but it was ruined when he cupped Merlin's cheek like he was spun glass.

Merlin rolled his eyes. "I've managed to survive being your manservant for two years, Arthur. I think I can handle sitting in your room for an hour or two."

Arthur didn't seem happy with the thought of so much time passing, but he finally chuffed at Merlin's smirk and shoved him, very lightly, on his shoulder. "Are you complaining about serving your prince, Merlin?"

"Oh, never, sire," he said, smirk widening into an all-out grin. It managed to pull a smaller version from Arthur, and Merlin's heart soared once more at it, as always. "Who wouldn't want to clean your smelly boots?"

"Exactly. There are those who would pay to have your job."

"More the fool they," Merlin said, and earned himself another soft push.

Then Arthur stood up, his body tense as he accepted the burden of an incoming battle. Yet his hands, when they took Merlin's weight and helped him to his feet, were gentle. "Get in bed," he said, even though Merlin had managed a perfectly serviceable night of rest just a few hours before.

But Merlin couldn't say he wasn't tired, and the excuse to not move for a little while was welcome, as well. He still huffed and glared, but Arthur didn't seem to buy it for a minute, and just stared until Merlin finally crawled over the plush mattress and curled underneath the covers. Arthur actually tucked him in before grabbing his sword and turning to the door. "Arthur."

His king turned to him immediately. Another flush of warmth purred through him at the action. "Be careful."

Arthur lifted his head in acknowledgment. "Get some rest," he ordered once more, even though Merlin had obviously already capitulated. "I'll see if I can find Gwaine and send him up to look in on you. Just in case."

Just in case what? Another creature got into the room? In case the person who sent it came to finish the job the creature hadn't been able to finish?

Okay, so maybe Arthur had a point.

Merlin snuggled under the covers, amazed that he was once again being invited to sleep in Arthur's bed. His spine tingled at the thought of it, and the pain slowly ebbed.

The pain. He frowned at the reminder. Why did using his magic hurt? Had he misused it somehow when he'd protected himself, leaving his body, for all intents and purposes, dead for what Arthur had told him was several days? Had it messed him up? Messed his magic up?

The idea of not being magic anymore cut through him just a little less than the thought of no longer being able to protect Arthur.

He tossed and turned, trying to get to sleep, trying to will himself to stillness so his body could stop thrumming aching jolts of pain through his body. But the nagging thought remained, a virus in the back of his mind, until finally he heard Gwaine's voice through the door, snarling at whoever was outside the room.

Merlin bolted up. Every muscle twinged as if he'd been battered black and blue by Arthur out on the field, or perhaps like he'd fallen off a horse and barely avoided getting stomped on by it. His head swam. He shook it, which only made it worse, and finally he just ignored it and strode over to the door. When it swung open, it was to the sight of Gwaine looming over a knight twice his girth in muscle mass and the knight looking ready to pull out his sword. Gwaine didn't look far behind him.

Merlin burst through it all with the practice of someone used to such nonsense. He dealt with Arthur, after all, and if he walked in when Arthur was in a bad enough mood, the prince was liable to throw things at him without even looking up from his desk.

"Gwaine, I need to go see Gaius."

It might not have been the smartest thing to say. Merlin had been alone in the room; there was no reason for him to need to see the physician unless he was in pain. And while Gwaine's brows furrowed at the news, the knights' brows rose. Merlin ignored that, too. He didn't have the inclination at the moment to worry about whether he had to watch his neck in the next few minutes. Gwaine could handle it. "Why?" Gwaine asked, then stopped and glared at the knight. He grabbed Merlin's arm and pulled him out of the room.

Merlin thought about the corpse of the strange creature, still lying on the floor. He thought about Arthur, racing after someone he didn't know, someone with magic who might be waiting for someone to come after him for what he'd just done to the prince.

He needed to find out why using his magic hurt him.

Thankfully, Gwaine didn't ask anything as he pulled Merlin away, didn't say anything as they made their way past knights and servants both, the knights either glaring or ignoring him, the servants casting wide-eyed or narrow glances his way, until finally they made it to Gaius'. Merlin hesitated outside the door, ensuring that the king wasn't inside before heading in.

He half expected the room to be empty, but there amongst the beakers and ground herbs was Gaius, looking from fire to valencia, finally dipping a small pinch into the mixture above the fire before turning to the door. He stopped measuring and hurried to Merlin's side. "Merlin!" The old man grabbed him into a hug. Merlin blinked for a moment before returning it, not certain why he was getting hugged in the first place. "I don't know what you did, but the guards are no longer whispering of your death. Something about helping Kay?"

Merlin frowned. "No, Kay helped me. He walked me back to Arthur's room when Gwaine wasn't there."

But Gaius just waved Merlin's words aside. "Well, whatever it was, I'm glad for it." He placed a hand on Merlin's shoulder and pulled him forward. "Now. Tell me what troubles you."

"What makes you think something troubles me?" Gaius just lifted his brow. Merlin sighed. "Arthur got attacked. Some weird rat-reptile thing." That eyebrow went just a little bit higher. Gwaine, still practically glued to Merlin's side, made an aggrieved sound, like not being there for the fight was a personal insult. The sound reminded Merlin of Gwaine's presence, and he sent the man a look. "Um..."

Gwaine scowled. "You are not sending me from the room."

Merlin shifted from foot to foot. "It's just..." He'd already brought up magic, and though Gwaine had apparently shown no problem with Arthur going to a secluded altar to use magic to heal Merlin, the idea of outing himself... he grimaced. "I'm sorry, Gwaine. Could you please give us a few minutes?"

Gwaine sighed. Snarled. Grumbled. And finally said, "fine, then. Keep your secrets, Merlin." He pointed a finger at him. "But only this once, and because it's for you and Arthur. Got it? And next time there's a fight, Arthur owes me an enemy."

Merlin didn't bother to correct Gwaine's assumption that it was Arthur who'd fought the battle. "Thank you, Gwaine." He put every ounce of sincerity, of gratitude, into the three words. Gwaine still looked troubled when he left.

"Well? It was obviously a magical creature. Did you get a good look at it?"

"Well, I was the one who got attacked, really, but it was in Arthur's room and it was meant for him." Gaius made Merlin sit down at the bench, nearly right in front of the beaker, which was starting to bubble. Merlin recognized it as a remedy for headaches and turned the heat down before it could boil over. Gaius forced Merlin to take off his shirt, and the old physician poked and prodded him until finally Merlin said, "I wasn't hurt, Gaius. It didn't even touch me. But when I flung it away – when I used my magic, it hurt."

"Of course it did," Gaius said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Merlin frowned.

"It's never hurt before."

Gaius stopped checking him over and leaned back. "Merlin." Merlin knew that tone; that was the 'good grief, and he manages to breathe all on his own' tone. "Your magic saved your life by pulling you – and it – away from the natural world. From time itself. It will take time for it to acclimate to the world again, to be one with the earth and sea and sky. Until then, attempting to force its use will only harm you. Do you understand?"

Merlin thought he did. His magic worked because it melded with the world, with its elements and its properties. It wasn't quite one with the world again.

He frowned. "But Arthur's in danger now."

Gaius huffed a little sigh, but he didn't seem surprised or even upset by Merlin's words. "Be that as it may, Merlin, we don't know what the repercussions might be if you continue to use your magic when it's not ready." The old man gave Merlin a severe look. "I know very well you will do whatever you must. I simply ask that you only use it when absolutely necessary."

Merlin nodded. He could agree to that. For now, Arthur's chores would all simply need to be done the hard way. That was fine; he'd gotten used to that these last few weeks, while every eye was on him and every hand rested on a sword.

His hand reached back to touch the dagger at the back of his shirt, the dagger he'd neglected to even think of. He hadn't thought to use it when he'd been attacked; he'd worked on instinct and used his magic. Would he do so again? Probably; it wasn't like he knew how to even use a dagger. But if he couldn't use his magic – if he had to go without it – then he would have to learn.

Merlin nodded. "All right." He would focus on using his magic only when someone's life was in danger. Arthur, of course. He might try the dagger to protect himself, but he knew it wouldn't be enough to protect Arthur. "I have to get back to Arthur's room before he returns, or else he'll panic."

Gaius' eyebrow lifted again, and this time Merlin blushed. He looked down. "It's not – it's just..."

Gaius sighed. "Merlin." And Gaius placed one hand on Merlin's shoulder. "I knew long ago your affections for the prince." Merlin flushed so hard he thought the red must have traveled to his feet. "And while I will not say I am not concerned, I will say I am proud." That made no sense, and Merlin finally looked up again. "You love so strongly, my boy, sometimes I fear for your heart. But you and Arthur share something. Something more than love, or even destiny. You are perfect compliments to each other. Where he is weak, you are strong; where you stumble, he sustains. I half feared you two would dance around each other all your lives; never leaving the other's side, yet never admitting what it was you plainly felt."

Merlin imagined, for an instant, what such a world would look like. It would be a happy one, he decided, if a bit empty. Arthur, he imagined, would be with Gwenivere – like he should be, a part of him thought, even as something hollow chewed at him at the thought. But himself? No one. He couldn't imagine anyone. He'd written off his chance for happiness, for escape, when he'd chosen Freya's killer over Freya. Nothing could ever be more important than Arthur. To him, there was nothing – no one – else.

Merlin pulled Gaius into a hug. "Thank you, Gaius." They shared a smile as he pulled away, and then he left, looking pointedly at the beaker before going. Gaius huffed.

Gwaine turned to him, one brow of his own raised, his entire body practically vibrating with the desire to ask. Merlin couldn't stop grinning. "Good grief, Merlin, you look like a woman expecting."

Merlin flushed. Of course Gwaine laughed.

"I take it something other than an attack was spoken of?"

Merlin cleared his throat. "A little," he said, and Gwaine sighed.

"And about the attack?"

Merlin shook his head. "Gaius will try to figure out what the thing was, I'm sure, but that's not my main concern."

No, his main concern was who had sent it into Arthur's room. He wished he'd been able to find the culprit, to at least be able to point Arthur in the right direction. He could be anywhere, everywhere, searching out a nameless, faceless person. In the marketplace crowd, the chance of Arthur tracking the person down was next to nothing. Even asking which women had gone to each individual shop Merlin had pointed out wouldn't do much of anything. There would be so many. Even trying to narrow it would leave too many. Unless the woman – if it even was a woman! – stood out, Arthur wouldn't catch her. And going out alone into such a populated place, where he could easily be attacked before he might even notice the person's presence...

Merlin took a deep breath. The urge to chase after Arthur was strong. Only knowing he would get as lost looking for his prince as Arthur would looking for the sorcerer kept him from going.

He traced his hand lightly along the wall as Gwaine led him back up to Arthur's room. The rough feel of the stone, the soft texture of the tapestries. Each step past a window churned the fresh air of grass and sunlight, beating out the dusty smell of an enclosed space. Merlin stopped by one and looked outside. The marketplace was just as hectic as he'd feared. Yet still, after a few moments, he managed to make out what he thought was Arthur's head; so maybe he wouldn't be so lost, after all. Perhaps he would always find his prince. The thought nearly sent him back, sent him outside, and despite the futility of it, he searched for the sorcerer.

Gwaine cleared his throat, and Merlin started moving again. A moment later, a small group of guards passed them. They glared at Merlin; he recognized each of them as ones who had threatened him several times before. Merlin sent Gwaine a grateful smile. If they'd seen him spacing out, they certainly would have tried to press some sort of advantage.

When they made it back to Arthur's room, finally, Merlin went straight over to the carcass and began to clean up while Gwaine guarded the entrance. He took the dirty water from the mopping he'd done (he still hadn't taken the time to toss it out; and Arthur said his laziness was a bad thing) and used it to clean up the blood-mucus from the wall and floor, finally dumping the creature's two body parts – and spilled viscera, blegh – into the bucket, as well. He couldn't toss the thing out of the window now. He would just have to wait for Arthur to come back before taking it down, disposing of it, and cleaning the bucket out.

He stood from finishing just moments before the door opened, and Merlin turned to greet Arthur as he strode inside. Gwaine came in with him, already asking what had happened and if Arthur thought there would be any more fighting soon.

"Almost certainly," Arthur said, skipping the question of what had happened. Arthur looked Merlin up and down. Merlin could see the restraint he used, and wondered if Arthur was ready to make him strip to check him over again. "Merlin."

Merlin pointed toward the bucket. "I cleaned it up as best I could, but I need to get rid of that. It's starting to stink up the place. Though I guess Gaius should see it first?"

Gwaine moved forward before Arthur could do more than turn his head slightly. "I'm on it." Gwaine looked inside. "What the heck is that thing, anyway?"

Merlin shrugged. "I don't know."

"Well, we'll see if your Gaius can figure it out," Gwaine said, and carried the bucket to the door and out. Merlin turned to Arthur.

"Are you still in pain?" Arthur asked. "I take it from Gwaine's words that you went to see Gaius."

Merlin nodded. "I know you said you wanted me to stay here, but I needed to know what was wrong."

"And?" Arthur didn't seem angry about it, so that was good, at least. Arthur put his sword down, and Merlin came up to check Arthur the way Arthur had just checked him. He seemed unharmed. He also seemed slightly tense; as Merlin had expected, Arthur hadn't been able to find the sorcerer.

"He says my magic needs to recover from... freezing me in time."

Arthur paused for a moment. His face contorted into an image of near-pain at the memories the words resurfaced. "How long?"

Merlin shook his head. "I don't know. I don't think it's ever been a problem before." When Arthur looked up at that, Merlin clarified with a simple, "it's never happened before."

Arthur looked nearly alarmed. Merlin shuffled on his feet. Arthur had never actually been told that Merlin was supposed to be one of the – if not the – most powerful sorcerers of all time. Maybe hearing a hint of that now might scare him off, might turn him back to being leery of Merlin's powers.

"You mean to say that there may be consequences we don't know about?" Arthur asked, and Merlin was left stunned. Again, Arthur chose to worry, not about Merlin's abilities, but about Merlin himself. Merlin shivered at the jolt of happiness that burst inside of him.

"Probably not? I think it'll heal. There's no reason for it not to." And if it didn't, Merlin would just learn to deal with it. He would continue using his magic in any case, because he needed to protect Arthur. That was what mattered most. So Merlin pasted on a smile and looked toward the door. "Do you want me to get you some food? I don't know if you ate this morning, but I haven't."

Arthur moved straight to the door and pulled it open, leaning his head outside. "You! Guard. Get a servant to bring two meals here."

Merlin didn't argue, since Arthur had at least demanded two meals. He would be eating, then, as well. Merlin waited until the door was closed before continuing. "Whoever the sorcerer was, they'll try again, Arthur."

"I know." Yet Arthur looked completely unconcerned as he moved to the desk and the mountain of paperwork. To be fair, Arthur always looked unconcerned when it came to threats on his life. Possibly because he got so many of them. "I wasn't able to find anyone," he said as he sat, even though it was clear Merlin already knew that. "But the tailor mentioned someone calling herself a traveler. She said the woman wanted to know what had been going on in the kingdom while she'd been away. They'd gossiped."

Merlin nodded. "Did she say what about?"

Arthur settled into his chair and glared down at the pile. "The country. The drought and famine. How I was nearly poisoned. The tournaments. The dragon." Arthur's gaze turned to Merlin. "You."

Merlin blinked. "Me?"

"Yes, Merlin! You. Everyone knows now that I named you my consort, don't they?"

Merlin blushed all over again, but he nodded. "Oh, yeah."

Arthur rolled his eyes and huffed. "Honestly, Merlin! Sometimes I just don't know what to do with you." Arthur rubbed his temple and sat back in his chair. "I got a description from the tailor, but it's not that helpful. The woman was wearing a cloak. Blond hair. Pretty. Tall. Save the tall part, he could be speaking of Sophia, for gods' sakes."

Sophia, Merlin thought, ready to laugh at Arthur's words. Then he paled. That sounded like a certain sorceress he knew.

Arthur caught the look and sat forward. "You know who it is."

Merlin licked his lips. "I have an idea."

Arthur scowled and stood. "Who? From where? Tell me everything."

Merlin shook his head. "Think, Arthur. You know her, too. You fought her."

Arthur blinked. Paled. He nearly fell back into his chair. "Morgause."