Merlin's back bowed under the weight of Arthur's shoulder-plate as Arthur tossed it into his waiting arms. The gauntlets and gloves joined it, the whole pile a little slick with sweat and condensation from the muggy afternoon. It wasn't a glorious thing to smell, either, stuck right under his twitching nose.
Arthur waved a hand at him, raising his eyebrows with obvious impatience.
"I'm coming already!" Merlin griped, half-dropping the pile at the corner of the bed. "Sheesh, you'd think a knight could wear his armour until he got up the stairs to his room, at least."
"You'd think a servant would learn not to drop the armour he's responsible for mending," Arthur said, kicking the pile, then shook his head and sighed. "Damn it! I cannot stop, even when I'm actively trying."
"Sire?" Merlin questioned, pointing back out the doorway. "Should I come back?"
"For God's sake, Merlin, just-" Arthur growled and turned his back, clutching the edge of the table, jostling the pitcher of cool water and fruit Merlin had laid out earlier.
Merlin heard him take a deep breath and blow it out, which was never a good sign.
Arthur had just turned around and opened his mouth when a maid, nearly as tall as Merlin and as thin, stepped lightly into the room with two full buckets of water dangling from her arms as if they weighed nothing. "Your highness," she trilled, setting the buckets down and putting her hands on her hips, never spilling a drop. "Nearly done heating your water. I've done most of it in the guest chamber down the hall, so you're nearly filled up now," she said, nodding at the steaming tub by the fireplace.
Merlin couldn't believe his eyes, and when he looked at Arthur, expecting the same amazement, he found him smiling at the tart.
"What's she doing here?" he scoffed, resisting the urge to glare. She probably had no idea the sort of possessive tendencies most servants had for their masters, but she was going to learn, one way or another.
"Don't be rude, Merlin. Say 'hello' to-" Arthur gestured at the girl, then snapped his fingers and scrunched up his face. "Um, what was your name again?"
"Mary, Sire," she said andcurtseyed.
That was it.
"You can leave, Mary. I serve Arthur and I'm sure you're needed elsewhere," he said sharply, but with a smile, since Arthur was watching him closely.
The girl looked at Arthur, who smiled and shook his head at her. He then put an arm around Merlin's shoulders and clapped a hand to his chest. Merlin flushed and tensed at the feel of Arthur literally surrounding him, but gave the maid a quick smile like this was totally normal behaviour for the two of them.
"Merlin's just a bit over-tired, Mary. He'll be leaving now." Arthur led him over to the door and shoved him out, a hand to his back. He followed Merlin into the hallway and pulled him out of the way of a dining cart just in time, shoving his back against the wall.
"I am not over-tired," he yelled before he could stop himself. He looked around guiltily and added "My Lord" in a quiet voice.
"I've arranged to have a maid prepare my baths and lay out my clothing from now on, so... go make a nuisance of yourself elsewhere for a little while."
Merlin bowed, looking at the ground, embarrassed to be grovelling in a hallway full of passersby, but unwilling to leave if Arthur was genuinely displeased with him. "I apologize if I've somehow offended-"
"Oh, please! You've never apologized for any of your cock-ups or shortcomings before, Merlin, why would you start now?" Arthur laughed, knocking him on the forehead so he would stand up straight.
Merlin grinned a little and shrugged. "So, what did I do wrong this time,Sire," he asked, making his voice go high like Mary's and thinking Arthur usually responded better to laughter than anything else.
Arthur narrowed his eyes and looked about to say something, but paused, then answered, "Nothing. It just seemed to me that we would both be... more comfortable with these arrangements. But I want you back in my quarters in a candlemark, Merlin. There is something I wish to discuss with you."
Leaning his back against the cold stone of the corridor, Merlin watching in absolute disbelief as Arthur turned on his heel, strode back into his chambers and, with a grin back at Merlin, closed the door.
He stared at the door, blinking when Gwen walked past and clapped her hands in his face. "You okay, Merlin?" she asked, looking from him to the door. "Oh no, what did he do this time?"
Merlin smiled wide and shook his head. "What? Nothing? He's about to take a bath, that's all."
Gwen's brow furrowed, but she began walking backwards away from him, her thumb pointing back over her shoulder. "Morgana and I are going shopping! Not as much fun, I'm sure..." she grinned and walked quickly up the passage, throwing a laugh over her shoulder at his stunned look.
He propped a foot on the wall, realizing he must've been standing there a long time. He'd heard the water stop sloshing into the tub, the buckets being set down, and now the maid's high-pitched voice speaking rapidly, though he couldn't make out what she was saying.
And he could have, if he'd wanted to, but no sooner had he thought of the spell than he'd realized that, first of all, he didn't really want to know what was going on in there and secondly, Gaius would most definitely not consider this an emergency situation worthy of using his magic in a public corridor of the castle.
Pushing off the wall, feeling as though he was leaving a string of himself a kilometre long pulling all the way back to Arthur's chamber, he climbed the steps to the library.
It was the only place he dreaded more than Arthur's chamber right now, though he'd much rather hear Geoffrey's deep voice scolding him for not properly ordering the scrolls the night before than that maid's giggle or Arthur's answering moans.
Okay, so he hadn't actually heard that, but he may as well have, for all the difficulty he was having breathing around the tight ache in his chest right now, and for once, it had nothing to do with the dust.
Geoffrey opened the scroll room for him and he stepped inside, went to the table, bruised both knees as he sat in the chair, folded his arms and dropped his head onto them.
How was heever going to tell Arthur about the seventh Rite? Arthur wasn't the least bit interested in men; so uninterested in fact, that he couldn't even stand for Merlin to help him wash up.
And that wasn't exactly fair, he guessed, since he'd done a bit more than help him wash up, but then Arthur had seemed like he'd wanted what Merlin had done, like it wasn't anything for Merlin to be rubbing his shoulders or washing his hair.
And what about their quest for Excalibur? Arthur had been the one to sidle right up behind him in bed, arm flung over his waist, breath hot on his neck...
God. Merlin groaned and clutched at his hair, willing the thoughts back where they belonged, the tiny box at the back of his mind where he'd shoved them and ordered them to stay since they'd gotten back. They weren't very good listeners when it got dark and quiet and he had such a soft, warm bed to tuck into.
Or now, in the musty, cobwebby old scroll room of the freezing library. He scoffed and raised his head, wiping his face on his sleeve.
So what if Arthur wanted a pretty tart for a bath-maid? It was no surprise that he preferred a pretty girl to Merlin's churlish retorts, apart from the fact that he'd given Merlin a candlemark off in the middle of the day with no barked orders of 'polish my armour' or 'mend my boots,' which, by all rights, Merlin actually did need to be doing.
Even so, he couldn't imagine Arthur being so crude as to actually seduce a maid who called him 'Sire,' though Merlin had of course heard stories of visiting nobles with quick, pinching fingers and quicker, groping hands, but Arthur wouldn't go in for that - he wouldn't have tolerated even that if he'd heard of it, Merlin was sure.
And Arthur hadn't had anyone - maid or not - attend his bath in the time Merlin had been his manservant.
Not trusting his ability to hide his feelings, Merlin had made himself scarce every day after heating the water in the tub and leaving out the bath-things, most often escaping up to the library.
One night, Arthur had donned his robe and scrubbed while wearing it, though when he'd realized what Arthur was doing, Merlin had excused himself to his room and shut the door tightly. Arthur had called for him to turn down the bed and bank the fire, by then fully dressed in both sleeping trousers and under-tunic. That had been another thing, Arthur wearing a shirt to bed. Merlin didn't think he had every evening, but it had been more often than not over the last dozen nights.
So maybe he really was just uncomfortable with the way Merlin had touched him, or looked at him, even, since Merlin's face was just so unabashedly open, damn it to hell.
To be honest, he knew what had probably motivated Arthur to get a maid more than anything.
Merlin, himself. He'd been especially off-kilter since he'd touched Arthur and washed his hair and...
So, not surprisingly, Merlin had kept an extra distance between them. He figured he was just beating Arthur to the punch, since Arthur had given him his fair share of odd looks since then, too.
Punch was exactly how it felt to find himself living not five meters from Arthur's bed and dining table and bath and not able to make himself the least bit at home even closed in his own tiny side-chamber. His things were all neat and organized, in case Arthur ever decided to check. He woke and changed before Arthur could even see him in his new nightclothes. He never wore them in the evenings, not after that second time. He'd not gone shirtless, either, but he never had before, so it wasn't like he was doing that for Arthur's benefit, not really.
He still couldn't make it through the night with the door shut between them, but he'd tried, and Arthur never woke before him, so he would never know.
Merlin hadn't watched him all that much. Just an occasional glimpse now and then when he heard Arthur make a noise in his sleep, or the creak of the wood floor sounded too much like Arthur's footsteps coming toward him, or once when he hadn't been able to sleep and had given in, hands twisted in the fur of last-winter's prized bear pelt that he was sure, absolutely sure, Arthur had purposefully laid across his bed when he was off on some errand.
Who else would have done that for him? Who else could have gotten in? Merlin was so careful to lock Arthur's rooms now, even if it meant keeping the key on a thong around his neck all day long.
So if Arthur was so uncomfortable that he needed even more space between them, if that was the case, then he was glad Arthur had banished him from the baths. If Arthur wanted his bath to himself - or himself and a maid - Merlin would gladly be down in the stables cleaning up shite or up here in the library, brooding for the nine billionth time.
And he should be, instead of pouting in a room where his biggest problem rested.
The seventh Rite was all that had been on his mind for days. He couldn't figure out a way of telling Arthur without it sounding entirely contrived. It wasn't as if it would ever occur to Merlin to devise a plan to forcefully seduce Arthur, as if he could ever manage to do anything having to do with Arthur forcefully anyway, but still. Arthur would take it badly, and Merlin truly didn't want to give him one more iota of bad news right now.
Things between them hadn't been as easy as before that blasted bath. Merlin almost would have given it up to be rid of the awkwardness, but... well, not quite.
He would never forget how it had felt, the heady fog of arousal so forbidden and thrilling that close to Arthur. The memories were going to be with him forever, he knew, for as much as he'd believed it when he'd slid his hands through Arthur's hair, he believed tenfold now that those moments would be the closest he would ever come to intimacy with Arthur.
He'd gone over and over the ritual for the seventh Rite a hundred times in his head and a dozen on paper, and he just could not bring himself to believe that Arthur would ever, on any terms, consent to the things it required.
Merlin groaned again, scrubbing his hand through his hair and standing, bussing his knees on the table again on the way up.
Maybe he could go to the Isle of the Blessed and resurrect Nimueh, then ask her to give Arthur another seventh Rite if Merlin let her live this time. Would the Old Religion think that was a fair exchange? Because he thought it was perfectly on balance.
He rubbed his knees as he hobbled to the wall and began looking for the parchment once again. He found it where he'd left it the night before, in the top corner shelf, and took it carefully back to the table, this time staying on his feet as he unrolled it and set the river rocks on the corners to weigh it open.
His eyes flew to the middle of the page, the words he'd thought, pictured, whispered, dreaded and thought again over the last few days.
At dusk, the candidates are required to touch, to share breath, physical bodies joining fully as the incantation is spoken and their souls are bound together.
He traced a finger over the looping, fluid script, his vision blurring and eyes closing, images from dreams he'd had playing across his closed eyelids. Arthur smiling down at him, running a hand through Merlin's hair and down his neck, a hug that became a slow, soft kiss, Arthur's hands on his bare back, thumb brushing over his whip-scar.
He didn't let himself think further, never any further than that. He was afraid if he went too far, it would hurt too much to not have it.
Knocking the stones to the floor, he leant down on elbows over the scroll, hands covering his face. He would not cry over Arthur Pendragon and his silly, freakishly-strong new maid. He sobbed out a laugh, stood up, took a deep breath and rolled the parchment up tightly, securing it with the faded crimson ribbon as always. He pushed it back into place in its cubby and gave it a salute.
He would tell Arthur and get the whole thing over, rejection and confession all in one fell swoop.
It was nearly nightfall when he'd returned to Arthur's chambers, the maid and her washtub both long gone. He banked the fire and turned down the bed, then fell asleep in his small room, the door wide open between he and Arthur.
He woke with a start at Arthur's hand on his shoulder, gently shaking him. "Up, Merlin, and be quick about it."
Merlin wiped at his eyes and nodded, sitting up. "Did you need something" he asked sleepily, still in a daze from the vivid dream he'd been having.
"Put on another tunic and your cloak," Arthur commanded, shouldering a good-sized pack. He waited just long enough for Merlin to dress and tie on his cloak, still not fully awake, before Arthur lead the way out of his rooms and down the hall. "I've got your things, don't worry," he said casually, as if it needed no further explanation.
"My things? Arthur, wait! I have to lock up," he whispered, pulling the key from around his neck.
Arthur barely waited for him to lock the door behind them before he was striding down the corridor and running down the steps, not even looking back to see if Merlin was keeping up.
He was.
Whatever Arthur had planned, it wasn't as important as what Merlin wanted to tell him, but he figured if they were alone wherever they were going, he'd still have a chance to tell him.
Still, it was very likely going to end with Merlin dragging most of his things back to the tower when they returned, trying not to wake Gaius, then lying awake the rest of the night wishing he would wake up in Ealdor, wondering what he'd eaten to give him such a nightmare.
Arthur turned and Merlin nearly ran into him, catching himself on the stairwell wall and following Arthur through the huge wooden door, out onto the castle ramparts, just above street-level.
They had a clear view in all directions, and it was a gorgeous, crisp night.
Arthur stopped and went to the wall, hands leaning there, the pack dropped to the stones beneath their feet. "You're not going to ask where we're going?"
Merlin grinned, though it was an effort. "Where are we going?"
"I can't tell you," Arthur smirked, bending over the wall to look in both directions, then waving Merlin to follow again. "Hurry up, and bring the pack."
Their horses were tethered to a rung in the West wall, but there was no one waiting with them. They both shied as Merlin and Arthur approached, probably spooked to be alone in the city at night. They both had a feed-bag and emergency supply kit tied behind their saddles, but no food for he and Arthur, water or any of Arthur's typical gear.
"How long will we be gone?" Merlin asked, worrying that the packing had clearly been left to Arthur, who only thought in extremes and never remembered the basics.
"A few days, I imagine, but tell your stomach not to panic. I've got my bow and we're not going very far."
Arthur's bow wouldn't do them any good if all the game was hibernating or in their dens. Merlin strapped the small pack Arthur had brought beside the feed bag and patted his horse's neck to soothe her.
"Mount up. We can't have very long before someone notices they're missing and the alarm is raised."
Merlin froze, his boot in the stirrup. "No one knows we're leaving?"
"I've left word with Gaius, and Leon will tell my father when he wakes, I imagine." Arthur nodded at the switchback in the Wall. "The guard will be back soon. Let's go, Merlin."
With that, Arthur kicked his horse into a walk, and Merlin followed as quickly as he could get in the saddle.
Arthur brought more logs than they could burn in a single night, and Merlin tried for half a candlemark to get the blasted fire to take, but couldn't get the damp wood to hold a flame. He was just about to cast when Arthur once again came into the clearing, this time carrying a fat hare by the ears.
"Well, there's breakfast for us," he said, throwing the animal to the stones of the fire-ring and giving Merlin an impatient look. "Still not lit? What's wrong with you this morning?"
Merlin shrugged and cupped his hands together, blowing warm air into them. "Guess I'm just cold."
"There's no call for that, is there?" Arthur crouched beside him and Merlin shifted over, making room. "Does this make you nervous - would you rather I turned my back?"
"While I strike a flint?" Merlin laughed, holding up the stones in his Arthur was actually hinting that Merlin should use magic, well... He'd said things like that before, though, and Merlin could never quite be sure if Arthur was actually asking.
"Whatever it takes to get the damned thing going. My fingers are numb," Arthur complained.
Merlin waited until he got up again, this time to check on the horses, and spread his cloak wide, cupping his hands as if blowing warmth into them and cast a tiny flame as quickly as he could manage. He tucked it in under the kindling and leaned low to peer inside. It took quickly, and he breathed a sigh of relief. If Arthur saw, he didn't say anything.
They cleaned the rabbit at the nearby stream, Merlin making faces and Arthur laughing at him the whole time, asking how Merlin managed to stay alive back in Ealdor where there weren't servants and Gaius making sure he didn't starve.
"Mum traded for our meat, but we mostly lived off the vegetables we grew."
"Which explains why you showed up in Camelot a bean pole," Arthur grinned.
"Not that it kept you from waving those fancy foods under my nose every chance you got. Do you know how hard it is to stand there, three feet from roast goose or veal for hours and never get a taste?"
Arthur looked surprised, as if the thought had never occurred to him, which it likely hadn't. "I would have thought you'd eat what was left-over from the feast."
Merlin smiled and shrugged. It wasn't like it mattered that much. "I usually leave with you after the feasts. By the time I get to the kitchens, it's down to the usual bread and cheese or stew upstairs with Gaius."
Arthur rinsed the meat of the rabbit one more time, murmuring his prayer of thanks. Since the unicorn, Arthur did it every time he killed something, as though even the smallest creature's life wasn't below his notice.
Although Merlin frequently was.
It didn't bother him usually, though Merlin couldn't help but wish things could be different between them.
Merlin had, in fact, wished for Arthur's friendship on every wish-able thing - shooting stars, spiders he didn't kill and once, stupidly, on a three-legged dog that followed him back to the castle and stood there the whole day like it knew him and was just waiting for him.
When he went back out to chase it off, he'd seen a pin at its feet. Arthur had lost it off his jacket the day before. It belonged to Arthur's mother, and Merlin had been looking everywhere for it all day. The dog had gotten a juicy bone from the kitchen and Merlin had gotten a half-hug from a very grateful Arthur for finding the pin.
Still, for all his wishing, nothing ever changed. Well, things changed, but Arthur was still Arthur, royal prat of Camelot, and Merlin was still a bumbling fool most of the time, embarrassing himself on a regular basis, when his magic could have saved him the humiliation.
They speared the meat on sticks and cooked it over the fire, eating breakfast in silence. He thought he should compliment Arthur for the food, or thank him, but all he could think of was the Rite and telling Arthur. If he did it now, Arthur could rage or laugh all he wanted and no one would hear him.
Merlin could ride back to Camelot by mid-morning if Arthur dismissed the idea and decide to begin the Rites again on his own. It wasn't too late, Uther lived, and Merlin could concentrate his efforts on keeping Uther that way until Arthur was finished completing the Rites on his own.
Arthur's eyes met his and he flinched, tossing his now-empty skewer into the fire. "What?"
"You look like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders, Merlin."
Yes, it felt as if he did. He bit his lip to keep from saying so, but decided then and there if he just said it, well, nothing could be worse than knowing and not knowing what Arthur's reaction would be.
He nodded and looked at his hands, then caught himself and looked up. Arthur deserved to be looked straight in the eye for this. "I found something in the library. It's not the prophecy, but it's to do with us, with what Kilgharrah told me about the seventh Rite."
The look Arthur gave him was unreadable. Something like confusion, then amusement. "The bonding ritual, I know."
Merlin blinked and sat down hard on the ground, his back against a tree. Arthur followed him down, his upraised knee draped in his long red cloak, flush against Merlin's.
"I read it after you first found it in the scroll room," Arthur said quietly. "Well, I presume, since I found you on your bum and you couldn't get out of there fast enough."
Merlin looked at his folded hands, pushed his head back against the bark of the trunk behind him to feel the support. "You can start over. I won't interfere. I won't follow you."
"Merlin, when I arrived at the bridge in the Perilous Lands, the guardian knew you were on your way. He was waiting for all of us. He asked me 'which one' I was."
"He did?"
"Yes, and I don't know exactly how you managed it, but I don't believe for one second that I killed the Questing Beast. My knights told me it was annihilated, and I know for a fact a man with the kind of wound I had doesn't annihilate anything. You were the only one there." Arthur smirked. "And you're a terrible liar."
"I know," Merlin agreed, stunned. He hadn't given Arthur enough credit. "I killed the Beast."
"Tell me how," Arthur said, though it wasn't a command at all. It was as if Arthur just needed to hear him say it.
"Magic," he whispered, closing his eyes.
"Thank you."
Merlin snorted. "You're thanking me for lying to you?"
"I'm thanking you for finally telling me the truth, dimwit," Arthur said, cuffing him upside the head.
He ducked and couldn't help but smile, just a little, but he sobered quickly. "I couldn't, not even when you asked. You must've been angry."
Arthur smiled and leaned closer, his voice low. "Yes, but after I saw you with the dragon and realized your confession might cost you your life, I knew I didn't have the right to force such a confidence from you."
"I wish I had told you sooner," Merlin said, swallowing hard. The least he could offer was honesty from this point forward. "I'll tell you whatever you wish to know."
"I want to see it." It wasn't a whisper, but he heard Arthur's trepidation behind the low words. "Show me."
Lifting his hand in the air between them, Merlin stared into Arthur's eyes as he cast. He wouldn't hide from this.
He slowly gathered the condensation of their breaths together and wove it into a snowflake, the most intricate he'd ever made, as large as his hand and lacy, the crystals perfectly uniform around the edge. It spun on one thin tip in the centre of his palm, Arthur's eyes shining as he looked up at Merlin.
The proof of his magic, of his trust, turned on his hand between them for only a moment before Arthur covered it with his own, his fingers twining with Merlin's. The snowflake melted between their hands, but Arthur didn't let go.
"We can do this," Arthur whispered, sounding a bit less unsteady. "Together."
He nodded; he couldn't refuse Arthur anything, least of all his trust.
He held still as Arthur unfastened his red cloak and nudged him forward off the tree, then draped the royal fabric over Merlin's shoulders.
The cloak held Arthur's scent close against him and he closed his eyes, breathing Arthur in deeply, startling at the whisper of Excalibur being unsheathed. He opened his eyes and saw Arthur offering the hilt to him.
"If we do this, Merlin, we do this as equals. Swear to it."
"Equals, then." Merlin laid his palm on it, and Arthur curved his hand tightly over Merlin's. "Though I supposed I'll still be expected to polish this thing in the morning."
Merlin couldn't hide his laugh, but Arthur's hand squeezed hard on his as they still held Excalibur.
"I won't orderyou to do this for me."
That was the last thing that would have occurred to Merlin, that he was doing this for Arthur.
"You aren't making me. I want to." Realizing just how that sounded, he flushed and closed his eyes. "That came out wrong . I mean, I think it will help me, too. Kilgharrah never made it sound like we were anything but equals. For all I know, you're the other side to my coin."
"Coin? What are you- what do you mean, 'coin'?" Arthur asked, tipping Excalibur's point to rest on his outstretched leg.
"He said - and I quote, so don't laugh - 'You are two sides of the same coin.'" Merlin pulled a face and shrugged. "He was always saying things like that, about you and me being connected in the ancient prophecies. Practically every time I went down to that bleeding cave-"
Arthur pursed his lips and Merlin realized his blunder. He let go of Excalibur's hilt, pulling his hand from beneath Arthur's and covering his face with his hands. God, he was wearing Arthur's cloak, the royal seal right there on his chest, swearing on Excalibur and even then, in such a moment, he couldn't stop putting his foot in his mouth.
"Just how long have you been speaking to dragons, Merlin?" Arthur asked, his eyes narrowing.
Merlin cringed and turned his head to look at the clear sky. He took a deep breath. "Since I came to Camelot. He's why I stayed. I mean, you are, but he told me how important it was that I stay."
Arthur looked away, then back, his eyes wary. "You'll do it, then?"
"Of course I will," he answered, looking down at the cloak draped over his shoulders. He ran his fingers over the Pendragon insignia embroidered on one side. He would always speak with dragons, then, even when Kilgharrah was dead and gone.
Arthur gently pulled Excalibur away, sheathing it and standing, offering Merlin a hand up. He took it, then held his breath as Arthur's hands closed on either side of his face.
"Intent is the key, Merlin," he said, leaning their foreheads together. For a moment, Merlin thought he was going to kiss him, but Arthur just took a breath and whispered, "If you don't wish this, I'll find another way."
Merlin shook his head gently, not willing to break their contact. "You never listen," he laughed, his hands going to Arthur's waist, then pulled back to look at him. "I'm happy to serve you until the day I die."
"Then we serve one another, Merlin." Arthur nodded and dropped his hands away, the cold rushing painfully back in against Merlin's heated face.
Arthur went to the horses and pulled off the pack he'd brought. "I have our clothing for the ritual here, and I've told Gaius we've gone on a hunting trip. We can tell him and my father the truth when we return if you wish, but I thought performing it in secrecy was best."
Merlin swallowed the nervousness that bubbled up. "Now? We're- where are we going?"
"If you're willing, I think we should move forward with it."
They were beginning the ritual, the bonding that would tie them together for the rest of their lives.
Merlin nodded, unable to say anything.
Arthur seemed to understand, continuing. "Gwaine and Lancelot have been at the Fisher King's castle. It's an uninhabited location. They have stayed there off and on since the quest, and there are comforts there, though none of them left specifically for us."
"No preparations?" he asked, just to be sure, his head spinning as he realized they were discussing so calmly. "The ritual said-"
"I know. No, they don't know we're coming, or of the ritual. As far as I know, you and I are the only two who know what must be done. I've sent word ahead for them to make sure the castle is vacant. They should be long gone by the time we arrive."
Arthur tossed the pack to him with a wary look.
"What?" he asked suspiciously, glancing down at the pack and then back to Arthur.
"We should start the purification." He nodded at the satchel and Merlin opened it, seeing pure white cloth inside.
"Oh, right," he laughed nervously, looking back over his shoulder at the stream. It was nearly solstice and Merlin knew the water would be dangerously cold. He didn't think he could heat an entire stream, but he could try to make things a little better for them. "I can take the worst of the chill off, I think."
Arthur led the way to the water, kicking off his boots and unbuckling his scabbard as Merlin stood, watching dumbly.
"I'm not going in alone, Merlin." He grinned, jerking his head toward the rushing water.
"Right, okay," he sputtered, reaching first for his belt, then his boots, then freezing as Arthur's hands caught the hem of his tunic. "My ribs are better. I can do it."
And why he had said that, he had no idea. Nerves, he supposed.
"Of course you can," Arthur's voice mumbled behind him, their skin brushing together as Merlin's tunic was lifted over his head and off his raised arms. "Come on, and put your clothes in the pack so we won't need to touch them after we're purified."
Merlin stumbled as he stripped off his trousers and trews, looking carefully at the ground as Arthur splashed into the stream.
He bent to pick up the pack, shoving his old clothing into it, on top of Arthur's, pushing his boots in last.
When he looked up, Arthur was chest-deep and already clenching his jaw against the cold, though he was looking down at the water, which helped tremendously as Merlin was standing starkers on the bank, only his hands to shield him from view.
"Didn't you say something about warming this up?" Arthur was obviously trying not to let his teeth chatter.
Merlin smiled and raised his hand, aiming his palm at the water three meters upstream from Arthur. He formed a line of pure heat across, attaching it to two large stones on either side of the stream.
"Oh, God, that's good." Arthur groaned, sinking to his neck as Merlin grinned and quickly stepped into the water. "I've not been taking proper advantage of you, Merlin."
Laughing, Merlin walked to the deepest part of the stream and, chest-deep, leaned his head back, wetting his hair. "Me, either."
Steam rose off Arthur's shoulders and head as he dunked under and came up, wiping his face. "I'm guessing it's sufficient to fully immerse ourselves and be on our way, but I'm not willing to go just yet, are you?"
Merlin shook his head and went all the way under, coming up and swiping his eyes, only to see that Arthur had moved closer. He was just an arm's span away, hand coming up to touch Merlin's shoulder, eyes watching Merlin carefully, clearly gauging his reaction.
Arthur stepped up to him, one hand closing on his arm as he started to back away. "Wait. I just need to-"
Merlin looked down at Arthur's wrist, swallowing his nervousness. "Are we allowed to touch now? Before dusk, I mean?"
Arthur shrugged and leaned in, his other hand taking Merlin's jaw in his palm, thumb rubbing gently across his cheekbone. "We'll go under again."
"Oh-" he whispered, heart thudding so hard he could hear it in his ears.
Arthur leaned in and kissed him lightly on the cheek, then the corner of his mouth, murmuring, "I want-" Arthur pressed their foreheads together, his voice just a breath on his lips, "I want to kiss you."
Merlin took a deep breath, his heart in his throat, his shaking hands reaching under the water for Arthur's waist before he knew what he was doing. He licked his lips. "I'm not sure we should."
"I am."
The hand on his face slid around to the back of his neck and he closed his eyes, not even trying to hide the fact that he wanted this more than he'd ever wanted anything.
Arthur's warm breath touched his lips, and a hand pressed to the small of Merlin's back, spreading wide, urging him closer.
Under the water, his hands slid along Arthur's waist and up and down his sides. Arthur's skin felt like velvet.
With a soft moan, Arthur's mouth pressed lightly to his, then firmly, the hand on his neck squeezing and rubbing, sending shivers along his spine. Arthur's tongue teased, sliding between his lips, smoothing along his own, dipping inside, taking his ability to think with it as it retreated.
He breathed hard through his nose, not willing to be the one to end this, though he knew he should. He groaned against the mouth that moved lazily on his, arching as Arthur's hand drifted lower on his back, almost touching his backside, the kiss going on and on, their bodies so close, but not touching.
He'd never dreamed he would feel anything like this, Arthur holding him, waist-deep in warm, flowing water, kissing him so slowly, so breathlessly he thought he would go mad.
Merlin held onto Arthur's waist, resisting the instinct to pull Arthur against him. He ached to feel him everywhere, but just seeing Arthur had been exciting enough to harden him, let alone being touched and kissed. He leaned back as Arthur took a step forward, not wanting Arthur to see or feel just how much his kiss turned him on, though he didn't exactly believe the water was hiding anything.
The hand on his lower back pulled him forward and he panicked, fingers digging in on Arthur's waist, then letting go to push against Arthur's chest, separating them.
They stood, staring, breaths panting visibly between them, his hands spread on Arthur's wet skin, Merlin flushed hot in the cold winter air, Arthur's cheeks as pink as his own felt.
Taking a step away, Merlin looked up at the sky, wet fingers touching his tingling lips in awe, trying to find some kind of control in the dizzy rush of arousal and anticipation. Being so close in the warm, swift water and not touching was unbearable. He ached for Arthur to reach for him again, pull them together and kiss every bit of hesitation into nothingness, but the second they touched, Merlin's body would give him away and he would lose all sense of perspective. They'd ruin the ritual. He turned and headed for the shore, not intending to get out, but... he needed some distance.
One brief touch of a hand to Merlin's shoulder and he started. "Arthur, I-"
"Hold still."
They were waist-deep, Arthur just behind him, and he clenched his fists under the water, not sure he could go through with the ritual after all. Every touch made his chest ache.
Warm water poured down over Merlin's shoulder, Arthur's hands brushing along its path, smoothing down his back to his waist. Before Merlin could breathe, he felt the flow of the heated water over his other shoulder, and Arthur's hands repeating the motion.
His hands opened, relaxing despite his nervousness. He tilted his neck to one side, his body melting under the warmth and touches, and the hands pressed in at the nape of his neck, rubbing over and over along the tense muscles there until they released their tension.
Sighing, Merlin let his neck be tilted gently to the opposite side, biting down on his lips to keep himself from moaning aloud. The heat spread through him like warm honey, a slow, thick pleasure that settled low in his belly. He tensed his legs, which threatened to buckle as Arthur's strong fingers kneaded his shoulders, trailed down his spine, poured water over his skin again and pressed slow circles against the small of his back.
He took a breath and sighed, a small laugh escaping. "God, that's good."
"I know." Arthur's hands closed on his arms, squeezing, then slid up to his shoulders, pushing against them gently. "Kneel down."
His knees shook as he knelt unthinkingly, Arthur's hands steadying him. He closed his eyes, the sound of the stream rushing by filling his ears as Arthur's hand pressed across his forehead, tilting his head back.
Merlin let go and concentrated on the warm sun on his face, the current heating him through, the feeling of water caressing his scalp, his neck, his shoulders, and Arthur's hands, Arthur's gentle, firm touch everywhere the water went. Slipping back through his hair, slowly, again and again, up from the base of his neck, back over his ears, brushing across his forehead.
He swayed with the water, let it move him as he sank further into relaxation under the warm touches.
When they stopped, Merlin turned and looked up, Arthur bright as the sun above him. "Should I-"
"No." Arthur helped him to his feet, hands smoothing one last time over his shoulders, down his arms. He backed away then, dunking under, water droplets gleaming in the sun as Arthur came back up. "I'm getting out," he said, brushing the water from his face and sloshing out of the stream, stepping easily up the short embankment. "Don't forget to go under again. I'm leaving you a cloth and a change of clothing here on the bank. We're supposed to wear only white, so I've brought tunics and trousers for us."
Merlin nodded, still in a daze, and dipped all the way under once more, the warm water difficult to abandon for the cold air and awkward situation that was waiting for him when he got out.
"I'm going to check on the horses. We should get going soon," Arthur called over his shoulder as he crossed the clearing.
Merlin watched surreptitiously as he dressed, strapping Excalibur under the edge of the saddle, looking like he regretted not being allowed to wear it. He also left off his belt, but had on soft, white leather boots. Merlin had never seen their like. He waited for Arthur to turn away, then climbed from the stream and wrapped the cloth around his waist. There in his pile of white clothing was an identical tunic, trousers and pair of boots.
They were the finest clothes he'd ever put on his body, including his formal servant's uniform, and he couldn't help running his hands down the front of his tunic when he was done dressing. The fabric was soft and warm but smooth, not the coarse wool he was used to. Everything was cut just a tad too big, the legs and sleeves a bit too long, but he supposed Arthur couldn't very well have requested Merlin's sizes, could he?
Merlin turned back to the water, looking for a long moment at the steam rising from the surface. It reminded him of Arthur's bath, of him heating the water in the pitcher as he'd washed Arthur's hair, and he shifted, the new white material taunting him as it rubbed against his skin.
Shaking his head, trying to will his body to cooperate, Merlin held out his hand and drew away the band of heat from across the stream, letting it dissipate and float down with the current, blending in as it cooled.
Arthur's hand on his shoulder startled him and he turned, jerking away from it. "You touched me!" he yelled, before he could stop himself.
"No, I touched your tunic," Arthur said calmly. "I think we're safely within the rules of the ritual. Did you take care of the heat?"
Merlin nodded. "Yes. And I'm going to have to tie bells to you if you keep surprising me like that."
Arthur smiled and laid his hand back on Merlin's shoulder, eyebrows raised in obviously exaggerated patience. "Better?"
"Well, yes, I suppose. But you're right, we should get going," he said, avoiding Arthur's eyes.
He busied himself for a few more minutes until his body caught up with the rest of him and calmed itself. There was no getting on a horse in that state, and he wasn't sure how much he could hide in the white clothes, anyway.
He pulled all air from around the campfire until it went out completely. By the tree, he saw Arthur's red cloak lying on the ground and went to pick it up, then stopped himself. Thinking of pure, white snow, he cast towards the cloak and drained the red and gold away until the dragon was just shimmery white silk on smooth white wool. He carried it to Arthur, who was already mounted on his horse, and held it up to him.
"No, Merlin, I gave it to you. You wear it."
"Won't you be cold?" he asked stupidly, kicking himself as soon as he'd said it. "I'm fine without it."
"Give me yours, then," Arthur smiled, nodding back to where Merlin's blue cape hung, rumpled and tucked beneath his saddle strap.
Merlin wiped the colour from that one, too, then took it to Arthur, though he didn't much see the point of the exchange. "Why don't I just cast a warming charm?" he asked as he pulled himself into his saddle.
"The stream made me think. Maybe you shouldn't cast anything else until tonight. You don't know how much strength it will take."
Merlin had no doubt Arthur wasn't talking about the act, but the spell. He did have an idea, though, and it would take quite a lot, especially since Arthur had no magic of his own. He would be casting for both of them, but he wasn't concerned. He could pull energy from just about anywhere if the need was great enough.
"All right," he agreed, "it's probably best I not get used to casting it in front of you, anyway. I might slip up in front of someone else."
"That's actually clever, Merlin. Are you sure you didn't knock your head when you fell and broke your ribs?"
Merlin smiled and sighed. "I don't suppose there is a rule about candidates being nice to each other during the ritual, is there?"
"Not a one, I'm afraid."
And honestly, Merlin wouldn't have it any other way. They rode on, mostly in silence, though Arthur seemed overly cautious once they'd entered the Perilous Lands, which truly needed renaming, Merlin decided.
The fields stretching to either side of the road looked green, even this far into winter. The ground was even and smooth, his horse didn't misstep once all day. They found water and nuts, wild berries Arthur swore weren't poisonous, though Merlin silently cast a spell to check before he let Arthur eat any, and Arthur speared a fish from the bank of a calm river using only one of his arrows.
The journey was pleasant, the sun shining warmly down on their faces through the clear blue sky. When the castle loomed before them, the sun was just setting on the horizon, throwing pinks and purples across the landscape.
Merlin took one long last look and nudged his horse into a trot behind Arthur's.
They were there, and the ritual was well underway.