/^\\THE SECOND/^\\

Day 1

Merlin was trying to use the axe to chop wood, finally running through the entire winter supply. He had needed to be more careful about his use of magic, hence the axe. It would be easier to use magic, but he needed to restrain himself before he got too comfortable. Yet the axe was now stuck in the trunk of the tree. He wasn't even aiming for the trunk. The task of collecting wood had become annoyingly difficult. Since the axe wasn't coming out of the trunk, and the sun was disappearing beyond the horizon, Merlin allowed saving himself the time and trouble.

He outstretched his hand towards the canopy of the trees. He breathed, attempting to concentrate on the branches he wanted to break. He could feel a flare push outwards. The result was five branches snapping off slightly explosively, falling to the ground. Yet, none of the other branches had a mark. He smiled to himself, proud that his small amounts of practice had paid off. His success always gave him a joy. Yet the moment of glee was sucked right out of him. He thought he'd been alone.

"You should be more careful."

Merlin whirled around already knowing who was behind him. Arthur's voice was an indiscernible heat. The Prince looked tired, and weary. Merlin looked at Arthur's face, and the uncertainty there. He felt the same way. He didn't want to continue to look and see Arthur reach for his sword. He hoped that Arthur wouldn't kill him, but he was not sure that another chance existed beyond the second.

"I try," Merlin said, and waited.

The leaves rapidly crunched underneath the steps of Arthur's feet. He looked up to see Arthur much closer, gaining upon him. Merlin held himself still, resolute to see this through. He wouldn't back down because Arthur told him to.

Arthur's hand wrapped tight around his arm, the other was around his hip, pushing him backwards until he slammed against a tree. The axe was right by his head. It figured that Arthur could easily pull it out, when he had to unsuccessfully struggle. Merlin stared as the axe was thrown into the bushes.

The relief Merlin felt then was liberating, despite being pinned to a tree. Arthur's teeth bit into his neck, his lips hot, and his tongue moist. Merlin was moving his hips against Arthur's. He kept his head tilted back, allowing the Prince to mark him. Their reunion was wild, desperate, and untameable.

Merlin thought it was like his first time and at the same time it wasn't. Arthur pressed him into the ground. He removed their clothes, but it was not in tattered strips. He was not struggling against Arthur, because Merlin wanted this—wanted Arthur to take him. There was no mocking laughter, and he was not biting his lip to stop himself from screaming. Merlin allowed Arthur to conquer and rule his body over and over, because he had already surrendered to him long before. He watched hope grow and flourish in Ealdor; he was caught off-guard to find it in himself.

Everything Arthur did made him feel good. It made him look to a better future.

Their hips were pressed together, rubbing until they both found elation in each other. It was only in the calm that Merlin realized Arthur hadn't walked out wearing any armour.

"What were you doing out here?" Merlin was mostly saying this to himself, but Arthur answered nonetheless.

"I asked a few villagers about your whereabouts. They said you were out gathering firewood." Arthur chuckled. "Figures you'd be useless with an axe."

"Thanks for the offer of help." Merlin tried to make his retort sound incensed. "Were you standing behind me for long? Because that's very creepy of you sire." Arthur bit the lobe of his ear in retaliation. Merlin laughed, his arms wrapped around Arthur's broad shoulders. He closed his eyes, feeling kisses make their way down his neck.

When they made it back to Ealdor, Merlin expected to see the massive section of tents set up like months before. Of course now, the crop fields would make that difficult. Instead, there were six tents set up, just on the outskirts. They barely took up room. When he reached the village, he could overhear that some of the villagers gave room for some soldiers to reside. It went to say for the number of tents, yet the amount of knights and soldiers were still fewer. Incidentally, Arthur had his old dwelling back. The village leader willingly, and profusely asked Arthur to dwell in his home till his departure at the week's end.

The sad news was that, of the two men that had left Ealdor to join the fight, only one man came back. Merlin watched Arthur, as he fetched water from the well, personally give condolence to the relatives, and congratulations of marriage for the one that had returned.

Merlin would have like to think he was being subtle as he watched Arthur, but the elbow into his side, the giggling by Editha, and the women around her said otherwise.

As evening set, Ealdor was in the throes of celebration: honouring the knights, and celebrating an engagement. So there was no one to see Merlin make his way to Arthur's dwelling without the escort of a guard. He allowed himself inside where the Prince was already waiting.