Disclaimer: I am not affiliated in any way with BBC, Julian Murphy, Johnny Caps, etc (sadly). I do not own the characters in Merlin, I am using them under the fair use and/or transformative works clause of copyright law and receive not profit or material privilege from my use of them.

"You couldn't have been just a tiny bit more subtle?" grumbles Arthur, as he unlocks the door to Merlin's cell. "And you're lucky my father was too busy raging at Morgana to remember I still have the master key to the cell doors," he adds as Merlin steps gratefully out into the corridor.

"What was I supposed to do? He was going to marry her to Cenred!" Merlin argues. He winces at the bruises all over him. The guards had not been gentle.

Arthur looks grim. "He's still going to marry them." They consider this statement in grey silence.

"Well off you go, you're free now. I have to say it will be a relief to have a proper servant finally," Arthur breaks the silence and makes a shooing motion at Merlin.

Merlin says gratefully, "Thanks, Arthur. I won't forget this."

As he walks away down the passageway leading out of the dungeons, Arthur calls after him, "I don't suppose there's any point in telling you not to visit Morgana tonight, is there?"

"Probably not," agrees Merlin cheerfully, "Although I could pretend I won't if it'll make you feel better."

Arthur shakes his head, then becomes serious. "And, Merlin - I hope to see you again someday."

Merlin gives him an incredulous, irrepressible grin. "What, you didn't think I was leaving Camelot, did you? Can't get rid of me that easily. I'm not going anywhere."

As Merlin disappears into the nighttime, Arthur mutters something that sounds a lot like, "Idiots."

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Morgana sits before her wide open window, looking out and anxiously running her hands over the soft, fawn-coloured fabric of her dress. God knows how she's going to get out of this...and Merlin, what is she going to do about Merlin? She can't let him be executed. Morgana thinks that she might die, too, one way or another, if she was forced to watch his head bounce from his shoulders and land in a bloody tumble at Uther's feet. She chews on the inside skin of her cheek, distressed and exhausted.

A creak at the door makes her turn around. One of the guards in his red tunic, chain mail, and visor has entered and is standing stiffly in the doorway.

Morgana glares at him. "I haven't thrown myself out of the window yet, if that's what you came to check," she says sarcastically.

"No," the guard states the single word in a hollow yet oddly familiar voice.

"Then get out of my room," Morgana gestures, "The door's that way."

"No," says the guard again, he seems to be struggling to unclip his visor, wrenching it away but it's stuck on something. Morgana realises she can cope with no more fear. She is tired of fighting. She lifts a hand to her head. "Do what you want, then. I don't care anymore," she hisses through clenched teeth.

"No -" says the guard again, still yanking at the visor. Morgana frowns in confusion. "No, Morgana, it's me. Merlin," the visor comes off and Merlin's comforting face appears, weighted down in heavy and ill fitting chain mail.

"Thank god," Morgana stands, relief flooding her, and goes toward him helping him off with the heavy armour and chain mail. "How did you escape?"

"Arthur," Merlin, now released from the heavy, capturing armour, lets it drop to the floor and stands awkwardly in front of her in the unfamiliar tunic and trousers of the Camelot guard.

Morgana nods, a small smile rising to her lips. "He's a good man," she acknowledges grudgingly.

"He is," Merlin's expression of calm turns to concern as he looks at her and without thinking he reaches for her face, running a gentle thumb just below her torn bottom lip. "Who did this to you?" he asks her angrily.

Morgana's all but forgotten about it, the pain fading to a dull throb which sparks only when she unthinkingly bites down on it. "Uther. But it's nothing. And what happened to you? You kept wincing when I pulled off the chain mail."

Merlin shrugs. "The guards don't play gently. I'm bruised all over. But it's nothing," he echoes.

Morgana rolls her eyes at him. "Don't copy me. Come here, Gauis gave me some salve for my lip, I'll put a little on the bruises. It'll help."

"Is Gauis okay?" Merlin asks, following her and sitting obediently on the edge of the bed when she points to it.

Morgana sweeps her waved hair out of her face and unscrews the lid of the tiny wooden pot of salve, dipping two fingers into the yellow beeswax mixture. "He's fine. Worried about you. You should go and tell him you're alright."

"Later," Merlin nods. He doesn't want to leave her just yet.

"Um," Morgana swallows and looks down, "Where does it hurt?"

Merlin hesitates, then draws his hand to the sight of the largest bruise, just below his left shoulder.

"Right," Morgana waits, then prompts him with, "Um, you'll have to take your tunic off."

Merlin stops, suddenly realising with a painful drop in his stomach that he can't be here. He can't let her touch him, because he wants her to so much and it's wrong to take advantage of her friendship like that. With sickening clarity, he knows he needs to tell her the truth.

"Morgana -" he begins. "I have to tell you something."

Morgana looks at him, the expression in his eyes boding ill. She doesn't want to hear any more bad news, but she steels herself, waiting for some new blow. "What is it?"

He swallows hard, a lump in his throat stopping the words. You have to, he thinks, you have to, even though she's going to send you away. "Um. What I said. Before, in the banquet hall, I meant that."

She looks speechless and disbelieving, so he decides to continue while he can, before she slaps him or does something equally brutal, "I love you, Morgana. I always have and I - I didn't mean to take advantage of you, I just wanted to help you but I'm sorry. I should never have let you kiss me and everything thinking I was just your friend."

He stops and looks to her for a response but she is silent. "And, um, I'll go now," Merlin turns and heads for the door. He feels his shoulders droop dejectedly and angrily warns himself not cry as his hand slides over the smooth doorknob, turning it.

"Wait!" Morgana's cry stops him and some of his abandoned hope returns to him. Her next words tumble out, quick and sincere. "Don't you dare walk away from me. I love you, Merlin. Come back or so help me I will execute you myself."

He turns, a grin cracking his face as he sees the astonished smile on hers. "You really mean that, don't you? That you love me?" she challenges, looking at him in wonder.

He nods. "And so do you."

He loves me, thinks Morgana, the joy she's had so little of lately beginning to pound in her heart. He loves me. They stand very still for a moment, smiling stupidly with eyes shining. He loves me, she loves me, he loves me, she loves me, it's real and it's not over, not over, there's hope – their unspoken words tumble over one another, tumbling and bumping faster and faster, tangling in their minds and bringing more joy and more hope with each mental repetition. Morgana breaks the glance. "Uh, come here, sit back down. Let me put the salve on."

This time she helps him pull the blood red tunic over his head, barely stifling a soft gasp at the sight of his bare chest, the shape of which she's yearned for a glance at so many times before. Flustered, Morgana feels a blush spread over her cheeks and hastily addresses herself to the salve, spreading the pale yellow mixture over the handprint purple bruise just above Merlin's heart. Glancing up, she sees he's looking at her with an amused expression, noting her fluster. She narrows her eyes at him, and they both laugh softly. Everything between them still feels so fragile and new, this love that they both gave up hoping for so long ago. They never thought they could allow themselves to feel this, but they can, and it almost frightens them in its intensity.

"What happens next?" Merlin asks her quietly, lifting her hands gently and warming the cold skin between his palms.

Morgana thinks for a moment, of the war that's not yet over, that battle that must continue for her to be free. She thinks of planning and fighting and being strong and she cannot do it just now. She shakes her head and twists her fingers away, reversing them so his hands are clasped between hers. She lifts the rough fingers to her cheek and hears Merlin stifle his own soft gasp as his hands make contact with her face.

"Please," Morgana whispers with shining eyes, "Let's not think about tomorrow just yet. Please, let's just have tonight."

He nods. She leans forward and kisses him very softly, no more than a brush of their lips but it still sends sparks of both pain and pleasure coursing through her. He lifts his face to hers, needing more of her touch, hungry for it. They kiss again, tilted heads and breathless lungs collapsing and reviving too fast to quantify. It feels like a miracle, this love. Like they're drowning, but they're breathing.

Merlin pulls away, once again running a concerned finger under her mouth. "We shouldn't. Your lip..."

"Oh, it doesn't matter," Morgana reaches for him but he moves his head away, raising his eyebrows. Morgana smiles wryly at him, tipping her head to the side, daring him to deny her. He shakes his head, and she rolls her eyes at him again.

"Fine. There are other places you can kiss me...Come on. Be imaginative," she coaxes.

Merlin hesitates. Then he does what he's wanted to do for so very long and lays his lips against her exposed neck, kissing along the soft skin. She tastes like milk and chaos under his tongue. Morgana gasps, tilting her body against his so her half-standing form is cradled by Merlin's bent knees. Trailing her fingers along his chest, she almost cries out at the touch of his mouth against her shoulder and is gratified to hear Merlin groan softly in response to her sound.

"I need to...tell you...something," she manages, "I told...the king something...that wasn't true...a lie, I said...that I wasn't…pure anymore," she tells him, letting the words slip like liquid between her open lips.

Merlin is having trouble focusing on what she's saying, or why it's important. "Okay," he breathes into her neck. He doesn't care what she's told the king about him, it doesn't matter, the king is after his head whether or not he believes Merlin's defiled his ward.

"Merlin?" Morgana pleads and he stops at once, with effort, looking up at her with eyes darkened by desire. Her bright green irises are blackened by her dilated pupils, carrying so much trust and certainty and vulnerability that it fills him with wonder and fear.

"Merlin?" says Morgana again, "I don't like telling lies."

Flipping finally. It only took them nine chapters. Was the last line too subtle? I hope not. I hope you got the implications there. But now I need your kind opinions…I have a good idea of what's going to happen now (as in, how they're going to deal with the whole forced marriage thing). BUT I'm not sure whether to write in the part immediately after this scene (and risk it being disappointing because I don't usually write sex scenes) OR do a chaste fade-to-black and pick up the next morning. What do you think?