Author's Note

SORRY THIS IS SO LATE! Life got in the way.

Also I think this might be the point in our relationship in which I confess to you that English isn't my first language — please feel very welcome to correct me on spelling or grammar mistakes! You would only be doing me a favour :)

About that: if there's anyone out there who would like to beta this, that would be amazing! I can offer you eternal gratitude and give you credit and such. I now have no one to talk to about possible plot developments or bits of dialog that I'm fighting with, so if you want to be that person: PM me! :) We'll see if we can work together. I'll warn you in advance: I'm a mess.

Chapter IV

The sensations of what had happened between Arthur and him haunted him vividly and feverishly as Merlin tried to find his way through the pitch black forest. Stumbling over surfacing roots and fighting with low hanging branches, he made it to the rickety cabin he had converted into his home. He collapsed onto his musty bed, panting and dizzy with too many feelings.

While he was with Arthur, the responsibility of having to look after him had somehow kept Merlin in check. Alright, except during the touching and kissing part. Things had got a bit out of hand there. But still. It was like he tucked away all the too–intense emotions for later so he could deal with the situation at hand in a rational manner.

It worked like a charm. Except that as soon as Arthur was safe and the responsibility of his life was temporarily lifted from Merlin's shoulders, those tucked away emotions came crashing over him all at once. Hijacking his entire system, taking his breath away and almost making him lose his grip on reality.

Fortunately, Merlin — being extraordinary wise for his seventeen years — had enough self–knowledge to know how to deal with these episodes. The best remedy, he'd discovered, was to give in to it and let it all wash over him. And so he did.

The throat constricting fear of being too late when he found Arthur in the alleyway and the blinding anger at his assailant were fierce but quickly washed away again. However, what continued to take control of Merlin's being was the lust and tenderness he'd felt in those brief moments with Arthur. They were almost terrifying in their intensity. Simply the memory of these sensations caused a tightening, tingling heat to form in Merlin's stomach. It almost felt as though the vulnerable connection they had momentarily allowed, had connected them to something much bigger, much more profound than simply their teenage attraction. It hadn't felt like it was just their bodies screaming 'YES!' at each other. Merlin had experienced it as though the entire universe had erupted into a celebration of the rightness of their moment.

He couldn't make sense of it. He wasn't even sure if he liked the prince. I mean, he was gorgeous, obviously. But the majority of what came out of Arthur's mouth made Merlin want to push him out of a window. Why on earth would the universe be cheering that on?

Pulling him out of his thoughts, and supporting him through the waves of emotions still washing over him, came his faithful companion: a brown–greyishly furred and brightly green eyed puss by the name of Freya. She announced her presence by promptly leaping onto Merlin's stomach and settling herself down as if she owned that spot, purring contently. Merlin's hand came down to lazily scratch her over the head, eliciting slightly louder purrs.

It wasn't until several moments later that Merlin realised that Freya's increase of volume wasn't entirely, or perhaps at all caused by his casual petting. He startlingly recognised her meowing as a warning: someone was coming.

Okay, so Arthur was gay. He couldn't really say it was a surprise — his lack of interest in girls had always been silently professing it — but nearly getting off with two blokes in one night did put the whole being–gay–thing in a different perspective. He'd gone from not even consciously admitting to himself that he was attracted to men, to not only accepting it but acting on it as well. Twice. First with that daring stranger and then with Merlin.

Merlin.

Who he had just been dreaming about for the passed five hours. Merlin, impossibly insolent and honest, who just appeared and disappeared whenever it suited him. Who seemed to watch over him, like some kind of clumsy, sharp tongued, guardian angel. Oh, he certainly looked like an angel, Arthur sighed to himself. With his pale skin and impossible lips and those eyes, so blue and so open. The way he'd looked at Arthur in that first moment of tenderness, Arthur's thumb following the full curve of his lip, made him catch his breath whenever he remembered. There had been something so delicate and vulnerable, a hopefulness as fragile and translucent as the wings of a dragonfly.

In a world where everything seemed to revolve around strength and restriction, where the closest thing to tenderness he'd ever known was the firm clasp of his father's hand on his shoulder, he'd nearly forgotten what it was like to be open. Unguarded.

Merlin seemed to stand for all that was opposite. He was untamed, unfazed and uninhibited. Free in a way that Arthur had only ever had a glimpse of when he was a child. And all of that with an intention so honest and a hopeful that Arthur feared would only bring him disappointment and hurt. Seeing as the boy grew up in Ealdor, he must've already encountered this. But yet he was determent in his fragility. It frightened and fascinated Arthur in equal measures, but most of all made him crave to see him again.

The next time Arthur saw him wasn't really how he'd imaged though...

Yes — Merlin was standing once again in his chambers, which was exiting and annoyingly forward of him but that alone wouldn't have put him in such a cranky mood. It was the man he'd brought with him, whom he was advocating so shamelessly.

The horribly good looking man. Judging by how close they were standing and how casually Merlin had put his hand on the man's back to urge him towards Arthur while introducing him, they were rather close. The way Merlin was professing a seemingly endless stream of phrase about him didn't help either. How dare he tell Arthur who he should take as a knight? After hearing all about his 'superb fighting skills' and 'purer than gold character' he simply couldn't stand it.

'Enough!' He spoke in his best authoritative voice. 'Please, what was your name again?' He sought the man's eyes.

'It's Lancelot, sire.' the man spoke with such dignity and kindheartedness it was nearly ridiculous.

'Right. Yes. Lancelot, if you wouldn't mind, I would very much like to speak to Merlin alone for a few moments.' His forced politeness didn't go unnoticed.

The man nodded. 'Of course, sire,' and he made his way out the door. Merlin looked at Arthur hesitantly, expectantly.

'Merlin,' he sighed, trying not to let his irritation sound through too heavily. 'What were you thinking?'

'I'm simply trying to help you. Lancelot would make such a great knight!'

'You know very well that only those who are of noble blood can have the honour of becoming a knight! Why are you even offering your help? Do I seem so incompetent to you, Merlin?'

'Gods! It's not all about you, your royal arrogance!'

'— You can't say things like that to me!'

'Lancelot was born to be a knight! He is made for this! Just as you were made to be king, he was made for this!'

'I have never met anyone as sappy as you, Merlin.'

'Just listen to me: you will never meet anyone as worthy of being a knight as Lancelot. It's like whoever wrote the knight's code had him in mind when writing it! He's the personification of honour and nobility!'

'Would you just stop! Stop it! All this raving on about your boyfriend — it's not going to change anything: Lancelot can't become a knight, not now, not ever. There are rules.'

'Well, the rules are stupid!'

'You're such a child! What did you expect? That you could just come in here and persuade me to completely disregard policies that have been followed for generations?'

'— I expected you to recognise talent when it's standing right in front of you!'

Their eyes met, assessing, finding an equal stubbornness.

'How did you even get in here?' Arthur knew the answer but he wanted to see the caught look in Merlin's eyes.

'I — ehm...'

'Just, please, don't let anyone see anything.' Arthur conceded somewhat bitterly.

'I'm not an idiot!'

'— could've fooled me.'

'And anyway, you didn't seem that bothered by my magic that night, when I was saving your drunk arse!'

'Again with the language!'

'Heaven knows what would've happened if I hadn't intervened!'

'Oh please, I wasn't actually in danger!'

Arthur regretted his words the second they left his mouth. The puzzled look on Merlin's face was almost comical.

'What do you mean?'

'Ehm...'

Merlin watched with increasing confusion how bright pink spots of embarrassment appeared high on Arthur's cheeks. His eyes darted about the room and his hands suddenly wouldn't leave the hem of his tunic alone.

'Arthur? What do you mean: "I wasn't in danger!"?' Merlin asked slowly.

He didn't answer.

'You were crying out, I heard you. That man had you overpowered — you do remember, right?'

Still no reply.

'You weren't hurt, whatever was going on couldn't have been that bad.' Merlin cast another quizzical look towards Arthur. 'Are you just being too proud to admit that I saved you?'

'Merlin —' Sounded Arthur's strangled, pleading voice.

'Well then what?' Merlin was becoming impatient. 'Tell me, Arthur! What was happening? You were standing in the alley, with that dark haired man. Something was going on.' Merlin was gesturing wildly to illustrate his story, trying to get through to Arthur.

All Arthur could manage was to nervously fidget with his rings, while a hot flush crept it's way up from under his collar.

'Come on Arthur! Tell me what happened!'

Their eyes met, Arthur's mortification was written all over his face. Merlin stared at him for a few long moments. Then the penny dropped and he looked away.

'You were crying out,' He said softly, mostly to himself. 'And he was pushing you up against the wall.' Merlin replayed the whole scenario within his new found context. 'Afterwards you weren't hurt anywhere, but you were...' He looked at Arthur again, eyes wide.

Suddenly breathless he asked: 'That man was your lover?'

'No!' Arthur finally blurted out. 'He was just a stranger!'

'A stranger!' Merlin's voice went from disbelieving to disgusted. 'Is that what you do? Get off with strangers in alleyways? Classy!'

'No! I never — well I did then, but it was an exception!' Arthur thought he couldn't possibly feel worse.

'And then I interrupted you two. I knocked him out! And you were still —' Merlin looked at him, mind reeling. 'You were still — and I was there ... That's why you... And I...'

Arthur was wrong: the hurt in Merlin's eyes made him feel ten times worse.

'Merlin, please, let me explain.'

'Alright!' Merlin yelled, clearly upset. 'Explain away!'

'I was frustrated! — couldn't even sleep because of it — and then there was that man — he just grabbed me! I didn't — it wasn't planned or anything — and I couldn't think any more —' Arthur pleaded.

'And when you didn't find relief with him, you tried to find it with me.' Merlin finished bitterly. 'Really Arthur, I'm pretty sure I understand.'

He turned towards the door but Arthur was quicker: he grabbed Merlin's arm and forced himself to overcome his guilt and look Merlin in the eye.

'You're not like that stranger to me, Merlin.' His voice was low and serious. He tried to find more words, words that could express how Merlin puzzled him, how he was on his mind constantly, how he had yearned to meet him again, but he found nothing. And it wasn't enough.

'Yeah? Well maybe I aught to be.' he shrugged Arthur's hand off of him and made his way out the door. Lancelot was there, waiting patiently, still hopeful of becoming a knight. That faded quickly once he saw the look on Merlin's face. He rushed towards Merlin, concerned, his own disappointment forgotten in favour of comforting his friend. Arthur witnessed from the doorway how Lancelot put his hand on Merlin's shoulder, he loathed it. He wanted that to be his hand.

'What — ?' Lancelot began to ask.

'— Let's just go,' Merlin pulled them into an alcove. A bright flash followed and Arthur knew they were gone.

Author's Note

YES! Lancelot makes an entry! I love Lancelot. Who doesn't love Lancelot? NO ONE! That's who! Accept maybe jealous Arthur.

So. Yes. I hope you liked reading this :) feel free to share any thoughts or feelings with me. I love it when you do that thing that makes me read the words you write.

I feel like there was something else I was going to say, but I forgot...