Disclaimer: Merlin is not mine. It's owned by BBC. The title is derived from Imagine Dragons' "All Eyes."

Summary: The three instances in which Merlin's soul burns in his eyes.

They Burn So Bright

Part Three

The evening had been tense, as Arthur's council members all sat hissing at one another, glaring up at Arthur and Merlin as the druids dined with them. It had taken a very long time, back when he'd first called the druids forward, to get used to their name for Merlin. They called him such throughout the dinner, Emrys, speaking of destiny and bold acts and sacrifice, and then calling Arthur by their special title for him – the Once and Future King. Longer, at least, and fancier. Yet the name for Merlin seemed special, somehow. A specific name, not just a title.

They spoke quietly amongst themselves, making it plain that neither the council members nor the knights were welcome in the conversation. Arthur had barely kept himself from standing tall in the middle of the banquet hall and announcing that the next man to stare at Merlin like he was ensorcelling their king into ruining his kingdom were going to be exiled from the damned city. They had all been behind his changes just yesterday. And after all the work to get them there, they'd fallen back to suspicion and unease. Just as Arthur had feared.

"I'm sorry, Arthur," Merlin said now, as Arthur stomped into his rooms and threw the door closed the instant Merlin finished stepping inside. The fool stood with his big, wide eyes and his tiny frame and his hands twisted together, fingers curling back and forth around each other, and Arthur couldn't take it anymore. He rounded on him.

"Do not apologize for them!" His hand actually slashed the air. Likely, if he had magic, he would have just made the table beside him explode. "Do not speak as if you've done some grievous wrong by defending me. Yes, perhaps it was foolish. You know very well I'm perfectly capable of defending myself." Arthur ignored the look from Merlin that blatantly said he didn't have much faith in Arthur's abilities, in fact, and did he want another rendition of the number of times Merlin had to save him? Because no, he absolutely did not. "But the one thing you should never feel guilty for is protecting myself of my kingdom."

The rudely sardonic look slipped away, to be replaced with a vaguely lost expression. "Then what are you angry about?"

Arthur groaned and slammed a hand to his face. Sometimes he could just strangle the man. "Them," he answered. "What else? I'm furious with how they handled you, handled the druids, and are now likely attempting to handle me." He sucked in a sharp breath. "Of course, the people have already accepted the changes, and they've accepted you. Despite your simpleton antics."

"Or because of them?" Merlin said, because of course Merlin had to be contrary on even such a simple issue as this.

"Yes, Merlin," he said. He let his hand fall away to exacerbate the roll of his eyes. "Your country boy foolishness has won them over. That's it."

"Well, at least I'm not a prat. Unlike some people. Maybe your people prefer a little simplicity, sire."

Arthur stalked over to Merlin. The man was tall, and he'd only managed to grow even more. Arthur had complained on more than one occasion about Merlin being able to stand taller than him. Merlin, of course, made several comments about Arthur's ego weighing him down. It made it difficult to loom over the man now, but damned if he didn't manage it. Merlin, however, was anything but cowed. He actually smirked at Arthur. "I have it on good authority that my people love me."

Merlin's smirk softened a bit at the edges. "That they do." And Merlin twined his arms around Arthur's neck. He pressed his lips lightly to Arthur's. "Very much."

Arthur ducked his head into Merlin's neck to hide the grin. He burned the smile into Merlin's neck with a quick suck, just for good measure. "I was angry," Arthur said. "Righteously so."

"I'd prefer you be something else." But Merlin didn't go any farther, ready, perhaps, for Arthur to pull away and rant some more. But really, what was he to do? The druids were being guarded by their closest friends. If anything happened, he was certain Percival or Leon would bring a message to him. The council had been warned to keep to themselves. The people had turned in for the night, their gazes drifting as if they'd stepped into a new, unknown world. Nothing more would be done these next nights. All he could do was continue what he'd been doing. The agreements had been made, the scrolls signed. The people would just have to learn that Merlin and the druids were not sinister merely because they had magic.

So Arthur pushed Merlin's bangs from his face and pulled him into a kiss. Merlin grunted in surprise, even as those lips opened for him, even as that tongue met with his own. The heat tore through him, as it always did, the suddenness so complete he'd once wondered if Merlin were using his magic to hurry him up.

He led Merlin to his bed blindly, hands scrabbling at Merlin's shirt, even knowing it would get stuck on his neckerchief. Merlin's hands fumbled at his pants. When Arthur twisted them and pushed Merlin back until his knees buckled over the edge of the bed, Merlin's fingers dug into the cloth of his pants hard enough to make them rip. The idiot's grip forced them both to fall, Arthur giving up on Merlin's shirt to keep himself from landing fully on top of Merlin.

Merlin's eyes were nearly as round as his ears. That alone might have been annoying, but then the fool started laughing. He had to pull his arms out of his sleeves in order to get his hands free enough to get at the tie of his neckerchief and unknot it. Arthur grabbed the offending thing from Merlin's hands the instant he had it free and tossed it carelessly behind him.

"I have to clean that up later!" Merlin huffed.

"Not if you marry me," Arthur said, leaning down to attack that long line of pale neck now that it was available. Merlin groaned as he bit at his pulse.

"Wh-what?" Merlin's hands fumbled at Arthur's hips, but he didn't try to get them up.

"Marry me. There's no point in waiting any longer. Everyone knows you have magic. They know you'd even expose yourself for me. And anyone who's known me for any length of time knows my intentions with you."

Merlin moaned. "And what," he managed on a gasp, "is your intention?"

Arthur nipped his way up Merlin's jaw to his ridiculous ears and licked. Merlin nearly launched off the bed at the erogenous touch. "Marriage. Clearly. Do try to keep up, Merlin." He breathed the last into the man's ears and felt him tremble from head to toe. He leaned away long enough to pull Merlin's scratchy shirt off. He found Merlin's eyes on him when he finished, and those bright blue orbs sparked for a moment when Arthur placed his hand on Merlin's stomach. The muscles beneath his fingers jumped.

Merlin's breath caught in his chest. His eyes glimmered again, and Arthur felt himself being pulled down, oh so slowly, to Merlin's body. He let them be pressed together, cloth to skin, breath to breath, and sucked Merlin in for another kiss. And while the man was distracted, he curled his fingers down to those jutting hips and into the sides of his rear. Merlin lifted up to assist automatically. Arthur let the man fall back to the bed and put his hands to the task of unknotting the string of Merlin's pants.

Either the touch of Arthur's intent got Merlin motivated or he was simply sick of not feeling Arthur's skin, but in either case, those eyes flashed pure gold and those full lips pursed. "Ábiraþ cláþ," Merlin said, the sound like air through grassy reeds, and Arthur's clothing disappeared. The first time Merlin had used this spell, he had freaked over the loss of good clothing, only to find them shoved in the corner of the room. Now he didn't waste any time, merely pulled Merlin forward until they were both lying properly on the bed, and when he finished, he celebrated the victory with another press against Merlin's form, this time getting to feel Merlin's skin along his own, Merlin's nipples on his chest and dick against his hip. Merlin spread his legs and shifted until their dicks scraped against one another, and even through the dry friction he groaned and threw his head back, exposing that throat again. Arthur took full advantage, as any good warrior would.

By now, he knew every last place where a good lick would make Merlin whine and arch his back; he knew where a careful touch would make Merlin shiver and gasp. And like a symphony, he led Merlin forward. And Merlin, even writhing like a foal, gangly limbs crashing into the bed again and again, managed to get his legs around Arthur and pump up in a parody of a rhythm, forcing their cocks to rub together and retreat, heat and cold, heat and cold, until Arthur gave up and pulled back, moving Merlin's legs to his shoulders.

Merlin's hair was a wild spray of black against his white sheets, his eyes shining like candles. Arthur groaned and took that mouth again as he felt Merlin grope along the edge of the bed for the small stand. He twisted his mouth and nipped on that bottom lip and heard something clatter to the floor. If he weren't facing some sexual frustration, he would have laughed.

Merlin cursed and reached for another long second, Arthur not letting him go, before finally pulling his mouth free. "Arthur," he groaned.

"Mmm?" And Arthur spit into his hand. It wouldn't be perfect, but it would take the edge off. He slicked his dick, then spat again, this time wrapping his fingers around Merlin's. His was a bit longer than his, but thinner, and had a sensitivity to the underside while Arthur nearly jumped every time Merlin played with his head. Arthur used the knowledge now and skimmed his thumb over the bottom of Merlin's cock. The man moaned, arched up, and flopped back, even as one of those flailing limbs attempted to grab Arthur's and reciprocate. He staved the attempt off by grabbing his cock and wrapping it and Merlin's both together. Another groan, and that flailing limb gave up and lay clenched in a fist.

Arthur took it slow, because he wanted to see it, and it usually happened only when Arthur took Merlin. He needed to ensure he shattered Merlin. And so he went slow, playing at the tip of their cocks with his thumb, holding fast when he reached the base. Merlin made little noises, jutted his hips to try to get Arthur to move. And when it failed, he flopped back again and ramped up those noises. Gasps, grunts, whimpers, and finally, a long, low whine, peppered with pleas and far less intelligible ramblings. Only then did Arthur pick up the pace, only slightly, even as he sweat and his body thrummed with the need to push in and hammer away. And after going a bit faster, he slowed again, until Merlin arched helplessly and pleaded, "please, please, please," over and over again, but never forced his hand, never used his magic to take Arthur's power from him. And finally Arthur moved, his gaze strong on Merlin's face as that sparking candlelight burst into firelight, then glowed like the sun.

Merlin gave a wordless shout and came, and those eyes were liquid gold. Arthur felt the wash of magic all over his skin, in tingles and prickles, a power that once again left him without breath, that washed through him like a storm yet left him dry and clean and whole. More like a warm breeze than a tornado, it almost curled around him, as warm and welcoming as the sun itself.

He closed his eyes and let it wash over him, let it sweep him into his own orgasm. This was what he'd wanted. This was what had proven, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Merlin's magic was never to be feared. When it touched him like sunlight, moved through him like water, cleansed him like love, how could it be anything but? It never, not once, hurt him. If anything, it felt like a shield. It was Merlin at his most vulnerable, the very core of him. And the core of him wanted to protect Arthur. Wanted to be near him. Inside him. How could any part of it be evil?

Merlin's magic swept through the room and finally dissipated, and with it went the tension in Merlin's muscles. He flopped bonelessly back on the bed and gusted out a long sigh that ended on Arthur's name. Arthur moved around on the bed, grabbing the side of the sheet and scrubbing himself mostly clean, then curling the corner and doing the same for Merlin. Despite his obvious exhaustion, Merlin managed to grumble incoherently, then say, "Making a mess again."

Arthur tossed the corner aside and crawled overtop Merlin. "Then marry me."

Merlin cracked open one eye. "We have to wait. We had to before, right? Because of my magic. And now, with all the problems I made..."

"You saved my life. Granted, you were your usual foolish, reckless self while going about it." Merlin grumbled again, and that one eye narrowed. "But the only issue is with the council. Nothing to set a good example about magic than to be rescued by it the same day it's legalized." He nuzzled into Merlin's neck. "We can work through this. It will take time, but we'll always have people accusing you of enchanting me."

Merlin grunted as he lifted his arms and wrapped them around Arthur's shoulders. "You're the one who said we should wait."

Arthur bit the man, just a bit. They were both far too sated to start over again so soon. But the nibble did work to make Merlin jump and yelp, so it was still a success. "I know that. I'm king. I am allowed the prerogative to change my mind."

Merlin snorted. "Of course."

"Is that a yes? Or will you deny your king?"

"It's a 'we'll wait.' Just until this calms down a little. A month or two? And then we can marry, if you still insist."

Arthur reared up, pulling Merlin up a bit with him due to the hold he kept around him. "I will," he said, and held Merlin's face lightly between his palms.

Merlin grinned. "Then I'll be waiting, Your Highness." And Arthur pulled Merlin close, chastely kissed his lips, and huffed out an annoyed sound when Merlin soundlessly pulled the covers over the both of them in silent, imperial command. He did, however, pull back just in time to watch the embers of that golden fire burn in those wide eyes.