Disclaimer: I don't own anything. A. Ny. Thing.

Merlin's Secret

Chapter 12:
Actually Going To The Tavern

The days passed slowly and faithfully, time passing too calmly in Camelot. Most of those days were spent around the castle, with Arthur and Merlin only riding out on patrol once or twice. The rest of the time, Arthur attended his usual meetings with his father, trained his knights, and enjoyed the peace while he could.

Most mornings that week, Merlin was in Arthur's room from the second the sun came up and, when he came around to see to his duties at the end of the day, turn down Arthur's covers, he often stayed late into the night, filling Arthur in on everything he could ever want to know, the pair talking well into the night even when they knew they would need to be up first thing in the morning. Arthur couldn't help it, there was so much more to Merlin, so much more to magic and all the things he could—had—done with it. How could he have ever thought it was evil? How could his father think it was evil? The things Merlin had done for him, for both of them, for the kingdom—how could his father think that was evil at all?

He found out in those talks, in the way Merlin's eyes lit up, the way his lips quirked up when he was allowed to speak freely, the way he was calm and himself when he did simple spells that he brushed off easily enough to do something or another but that transfixed Arthur, that there was something about this magic of Merlin's, something about the way it almost was him, that amazed Arthur. It was just... Now that he had the chance, the time, to observe him, watch him do his magic, it was...

Something he couldn't quite place. It was amazing, really. The fact that his father would have Merlin put to death for it, for something as beautiful and amazing as his magic, an extension of who he was... It was impossible to believe, to follow such logic.

And then there was Merlin again, and the way he lit up when it was just the two of them in his room, the way he blushed when he got too over-enthusiastic about something or another and Arthur stared at him in wonder. There had always been something about Merlin that had captivated him before—there had always just been something about Merlin—something that Arthur felt deep inside him when he and now... Well, now it was just harder to pinpoint exactly what that something was. Because, if he squinted hard enough, he thought it might look something like love.

And he didn't love Merlin.

He was infatuated, sure; he had entertained the notion, before, of what it might be like to pin him to the wall when he was being his usual infuriating self—referring to Arthur with such disrespect in his tone, not caring for things like titles and how things were supposed to be done—and kiss him senseless.

But to call it love would be a stretch. He just... wanted Merlin to be happy, to have the recognition he deserved, wanted him to live without fear and to live his life peacefully. He wanted to see him smile more, wanted him to stress less, and enjoy the kingdom he choose to call his home. He wanted them to talk more—he found that he did enjoy Merlin's company in his chambers, just the two of them. Talking about his magic, the things he had done, the things that made him who he was. He had always been particularly close to his manservant—a fact he all but guaranteed that no other prince in the history of the world could ever claim before, or even after, him—but now, now that there were no secrets between them, it was—

Of course. There was that thing about Morgana knowing about Merlin's magic. Arthur had never quite gotten around to telling Merlin about that, but, when his eyes were swimming with happiness as he prattled on about this or that to Arthur, tucked away up in his chambers... it just didn't seem to matter.

And, anyway, Morgana seemed to be keeping quiet. Though she did watch Merlin out of the corner of her eye when she thought no one was watching, Arthur was sure it was just mild curiosity on her part—Arthur, too, after all, was still insanely curious, still acted like a transfixed child whenever he did some spell or another. It wasn't his fault, he often grumbled to himself when he thought about how he really shouldn't be watching Merlin, of all people, with such wonder in his eyes, he had been deprived of this all his life, of watching magic take place, of watching wonderful people do wonderful things with it and whoa—where had that come from? Merlin was a lot of things, but he was in no way wonderful.

Still, Arthur would admit to himself, he was coming to enjoy—look forward to, even—these little chats of theirs, and was not looking forward to the day when Merlin would run out of things to tell him. Because he could enjoy Merlin's useless—and not so useless—prattle without calling it love, couldn't he?

*.*.*.*.*

"Oy—Merlin." Gwaine called out down the hallway Merlin had been walking down, Arthur's dinner balanced precariously in his hands. He halted in his movements and turned around, waited for the knight, who was still half-dressed in his chainmail from the day's training session, to catch up to him. When he finally did, he stood across from Merlin, an appreciative look on his face as he gave his friend a grin.

"Where are you off to in such a hurry, then?" He asked.

"Where else?" Merlin indicated to the platter of food he was carrying. "To feed his highness." He grinned back, rolling his eyes for added effect.

Gwaine let out a chuckle, almost forced, gave Merlin a squinty sort of look that Merlin didn't quite recognize before clearing his throat, almost uncomfortable in a way Gwaine never was.

"Is something the matter?" Merlin asked him after a beat.

"Not at all, Merlin," He replied, shifting his weight before continuing. "Just wanted to see if you wanted to head out to the tavern with me and the boys tonight after you've been released from the princess' reign for the evening?" He asked, his usual grin back in place.

Merlin gave him a small smile, mulling it over for a moment as he readjusted his hold on Arthur's food. As of late, he had been spending every spare moment in Arthur's room—and if they weren't just talking about everything, that might have sounded quite suggestive—and, well, as much as he would like to spend some time with Gwaine and the others—he felt like he hadn't seen them outside of training and the odd patrol or two in quite a while now—he... Well, he just wanted to spend more time with Arthur, truth be told.

"I don't know, Gwaine..."

"Oh, come on!" Gwaine exclaimed. "You've been spending all your time with Arthur these days, I feel like I haven't seen you in forever."

"I saw you at training just this afternoon." Merlin reminded him, aware that that wasn't quite what he meant.

"But you haven't had a drink with us in weeks now."

"I'm not much of a drinker, despite what Arthur might think." Merlin reminded him.

"So just come keep us company—the lads all miss you just as much as I do. Come on, one drink, tonight, at the tavern with the rest of us. It won't kill the princess to be without you just for one night, will it?" He asked.

"I guess not." Merlin shrugged, persuaded more by the notion of Gwaine letting him get on with his duties than the concept of joining them at the tavern.

"Great! We'll meet you there, then?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Right, see you then." He grinned, turning around and trailing off, seeming to be in a hurry before Merlin could change his mind on things.

Merlin sighed, watched him trail off down the hallway for a moment before turning back around to finish the journey to Arthur's room. Neither of them would much like him ducking out early that night, but, if it would keep the knights off their backs, keep suspicions away, then he would go, just to keep Gwaine from popping his head into Arthur's room during one of their little chats—

Suspicions.

God.

Merlin felt his face heat up at the word, remembering when Lancelot had cornered him in Arthur's room just the other day.

"I'm asking... if you're in love with Arthur."

He could still hear the question, could still see Lancelot's face when he asked, gentle and wondering and safe, promising, silently, that he would keep that secret as well—because that was what Lancelot did, he kept secrets and he was there for Merlin; he was one of the best friends he ever had, was like a brother to him, really. But, admitting it to himself was hard enough most days, admitting it to Lancelot—even though he was Lancelot—was... something else entirely.

"Lancelot..." He had sighed, shaking his head in something like defeat, adverting his eyes.

"I won't tell anyone, you know that."

"I know, but... I can't..."

"It's all right, Merlin." He had said gently. "It's all right."

Merlin had closed his eyes for the briefest of moments, took in a breath of air that still smelled like Arthur before opening them again and sighing with defeat. Sod it all, this was Lancelot, it wasn't like he was going to be like Gwaine and spread it all over the castle or anything...

"Yes." He had said, breathing easy with the word, with telling someone, with knowing that that someone would protect that secret with his life. "I... am." He had nodded, letting his eyes come up to Lancelot's, to the way they didn't widen with shock or knowing or anger, just the way they were... understanding.

There was a silence that passed between them, halfway between comfortable and not, and it left Merlin with a odd sort of feeling. He had expected a reaction of some sort, had expected... Well, okay, he wasn't entirely sure what sort of reaction he had been expecting, but... He had been expecting something other than silence, at least.

"You're not... going to tell me I should tell him or try to console me or anything?" Merlin had asked then.

Lancelot had shaken his head softly. "I know you better than that, Merlin." He had smiled sadly. "But... if you ever want to talk about it, about him," He nodded to the door. "You know I'm always here for you."

And that had been it. They had left the room and Merlin had gone off to run Gaius' errands and Lancelot had gone off to find the other knights. It was so simple, such a freeing sort of conversation, but...

It was still complicated, wasn't it? Even if it seemed so simple right now, it would become complicated soon enough—it always did.

Finally, though, Merlin came back to the present, came to Arthur's room, entered without knocking and crossed to the table where he always put his food, and decided to put his conversation with Lancelot out of his mind for the moment—for the rest of the night, if possible. It had been plaguing him for so many days now, muddling his thoughts, clouding his judgement, he just... Needed to forget about it. Spending less time with Arthur would probably help him truly forget, but that wasn't an option—not really.

"You're late." Arthur said almost teasingly, stepping out from across the room, shrugging into a new shirt, and if Merlin hadn't been so preoccupied, he might have made a comment about Arthur finally remembering how to put a shirt on all on his own.

"Sorry," Merlin shrugged in response, watching Arthur take his seat and start in on his meal, nodding for Merlin to take the seat across from him like he had taken to doing lately.

"Sit down and finish that story you were telling me last night—something about Nimueh?" Arthur said, expectant, almost impatient, with the request.

But Merlin remained standing, shifting from foot to foot for a moment, unsure whether he wanted to go down to the tavern after all or just blow the knights off.

But he had promised Gwaine he would go, and Gwaine was a good friend, despite that nasty little rumor he had started, so, Merlin decided, he couldn't do that to him. No matter how badly he wanted to. And anyway, one night away from Arthur wasn't likely to kill either of them, especially considering how quiet things had been lately.

"Actually, Arthur," Merlin cleared his throat, eyes catching on Arthur's curiosity filled ones. "I promised Gwaine I would meet him and the others at the tavern tonight—if you don't mind, I mean." He added quickly, because Arthur, too, seemed to be enjoying their time together, even if it wasn't quite in the same way and for the same reason as Merlin. He would hate blowing off the knights, his friends, but he would also hate to skip out on Arthur if he really wanted him around...

"Oh." Arthur nodded between bites, his face falling slightly.

"I don't have to, though—if you need me here, they can't really be mad at me for doing my job." Merlin insisted, his words rushed, cheeks painted with embarrassment from adding it so quickly.

Arthur glanced up at him, seemed to be weighing his words, his choices, before nodding again, slowly.

"It's fine, Merlin. I've been keeping you pretty late recently, haven't I?"

"Oh I don't mind it." Merlin told him, grinning sheepishly. "Not one bit. Saves me from having to clean out Gaius' leech tank and all that."

Arthur smiled in return, held his eyes in an intense sort of lingering gaze for a moment before he looked back to his food. "I'm sure the tavern has been missing its favorite patron, anyway." He teased.

"You know I was never actually at the tavern when you thought I was—"

"No, but this time you will be, won't you?" Arthur interrupted, looking back up. "Unless this is another lie?"

"No." Merlin told him quickly. He knew Arthur was still teasing, but, there was an edge to his voice making the question more serious than anything else he usually asked around this time of night. "No. Gwaine cornered me on my way up here and asked me to join them at the tavern, says he hasn't seen much of me outside of training lately and that they miss my company."

"Miss your company?" Arthur snorted. "They should be so lucky!"

"You'll miss my company while I'm off at the tavern with them."

"Somehow I doubt that."

"We'll see." Merlin said, eyes bright with challenge and teasing. "So, if there's nothing else—?" He asked.

"Get out of here. I think I can mange to get myself to bed." Arthur told him, waving him off.

"Are you sure? Because the last time I left you before you were actually in bed you spilled my secret to Lancelot."

"I was drunk." Arthur insisted on his own behalf, cheeks flushing as Merlin laughed at his expense. "And he already knew, anyway."

"But you didn't know that." Merlin reminded him, tilting his head in good humor.

Arthur rolled his eyes and took a sip from his goblet, glaring at Merlin over the lip of it for a long, light moment before Merlin chuckled under his breath and finally moved from his spot near the table.

"Good night, Arthur." He said over his shoulder, walking to the door slowly.

"Have fun with your tavern buddies." Arthur called out, still teasing as Merlin opened the door and left the room, rolling his eyes at Arthur's words.

As he closed the door and made his way down the familiar hallway, already allowing his feet to carry him on the route to the tavern—he hadn't spent much time there himself, but he had been with Gaius and the knights and to fetch Gwaine when he got particularly pissed and needed an escort home or whathaveyou—he tried to bite down the feeling that he shouldn't leave Arthur's side that night.

It was stupid, really, and he knew it was just him wanting to spend as much time as he could with Arthur, fill his head with everything he had ever wanted to tell him but had been unable to in their years together—he just wanted to be selfish, just a little bit—but there was something there, just on the edge of his mind—one of those funny feelings, as Arthur liked to call them, telling him that going to the tavern was the last thing he needed to do right now. But it was so quiet in Camelot lately—not even Morgana was acting up—so, honestly, what harm could it do to spend time with a few friends who missed his company?

As he kept telling himself, as Gwaine had told him: one night away from Arthur wasn't about to kill anybody.

*.*.*.*.*

It took days longer than Morgana thought it would to find the chance to get into Arthur's room—days. Because that troublesome Merlin was spending so much time with him, doing God knows what well into the night and first thing in the morning. If the rumors going around the castle were to be believed, well... That would certainly explain it.

But Morgana wasn't looking to confirm or deny or even pretend to care about rumors such as those. She was just looking to cast a simple little spell. Unfortunately, due to the little upset in her plan, she had had to change a few fine details, adjust the spell accordingly until it was something new entirely. But, she was sure, this one would do the job just as well as the original one would. Perhaps it would even be better, she mused to herself, because not only would she be able to take care of that meddlesome servant, she might also get some much-needed information out of that half-wit brother of hers—if all went accordingly, of course.

Just when she was beginning to grow impatient, when she was about to give up on doing any sort of spell at all and just wait for Morgause to show up again to advise her, Merlin left Arthur's chambers—actually left Arthur's chambers—not too long after bringing him his evening meal one night. She stayed well hidden, however, in the shadows, wondering if he would come back or not, but, after so many long, silent, almost agonizing moments, he did not return. Smirking into the shadows that hid her well, she knew that this was it, the chance she was waiting for, the moment to finally put her plan into action.

And to think, it would all be because Arthur's precious little servant had chosen to take off early one night. How... perfect.

*.*.*.*.*

"Don't you think you've had enough?" Merlin asked, grinning despite his tone as Gwaine asked the barmaid for another round of mead for him and the knights.

They were all—him, Gwaine, Leon, Percival, and Elyan, Lancelot unable to make it that night because he wanted to get up early the following morning for some reason or another he hadn't disclosed to Percival when he asked him to join them, though he suspected it had something to do with Gwen—tucked away in a corner. And, despite Gwaine's tendency to get in the middle of things and start a bit of trouble when he had too much to drink, he had actually managed to stay clear of all that for most of the night so far. He hadn't started any fights or run up an outrageous bar-tab or anything of the such—Merlin was beginning to think that, perhaps, the knights had been a good influence on him.

"Ne'er enough, Merlin. Ne'er." Gwaine slurred, and if Merlin wasn't so amused at the show of good cheer between the lot of them, if he didn't have a fair amount of mead coursing through his own veins as well, he might have been just a tad aggravated that he was stuck watching the lot of Camelot's best knights while they acted like a bunch of drunk babies.

"Gwaine's right, Merlin." Leon nodded, his head bobbing long after his words.

"And that's something none of you will ever say sober." He chuckled in response, his grip on his own pint of mead tightening ever so slightly. He'd been nursing the same one for the better part of the night, but, as he was a lightweight, what he had consumed left him feeling rather tingly—not quite drunk or tipsy, just... good. He still had his wits about him, of course—one of them had to—but it did take the edge off, make him forget about that feeling he'd had as he had left Arthur's room, about not wanting to come down to the tavern at all.

"Sooo how did Ar'hur," Elyan hiccuped. "Feel about letting you off ea'ly for the night?" he asked, his words slurred but not as bad as Gwaine's were.

The barmaid came back then, sat the drinks down in front of everyone but Merlin, smiling prettily at all of them and distracting them momentarily from where Merlin knew the conversation was about to go, giving him just a moment and a half to prepare himself for when Percival finally asked, switching from Elyan's subtle attempts to just outright asking,

"So you an' Arthur, 'uh?"

"What about us?" Merlin asked, feigning ignorance on the subject, though he had been subjected, over the last few days, to the rumors and whisperings among the servants and the halls of the various things he was "known" to do for Arthur that were outside the line of duty. Mostly, he rolled his eyes at them and ducked his head, trying to stay out of the conversations, but there were things the men would say when his back was turned, that the women would whisper about behind their hands, that made him blush madly for hours on end when they danced so carelessly through his ears. Honestly...

"You know very well what." Leon almost snickered.

"I don't think so."

"Merrrrlin." Gwaine droned, taking a long sip of his mead. "We're you' friiiiiends. You're s'pposed to tell us st'ff like thiiiis."

Merlin rolled his eyes, took a dreg of his warming mead, though it had long since passed the point where it even slightly appealed to him, he needed something to do, just to keep them off him for a second.

"There's nothing to tell—you know we're just friends." He said when he finally sat his cup back down.

"But why've you been spendin' so much time in his cham'ers lately?" Percival asked.

"We've just been talking."

"About what?" Elyan wondered.

"Just... things. You know. Things." He waved his hand in an abstract manner, his cheeks warming as he grappled for an excuse—any excuse, really, would do, because the knights weren't exactly the sharpest swords there ever were when they had enough mead or liquor in them.

"'Kin'a things?" Leon asked.

"I don't know, chores, battle stories, and things like that—you know Arthur just likes to hear himself talk sometimes."

The others all nodded, seemed to accept the answer and let the subject drop for some time, another subject coming up and distracting their drunken minds before it could be pressed further, and Merlin was glad for that, his embarrassment passing as he let himself get distracted by the others' drunken ramblings and thoughts that wouldn't make much sense when reflected upon in the morning but that, tonight, in the glow of mead and their friendship, sounded completely fine to all.

After some time, Merlin managed to convince them to head back to the castle—he had to get up relatively early compared to them, thank you very much, and would appreciate getting at least some sleep, and he couldn't, in all good conscious, leave them to their own devices away from the castle and their rooms like that—and fell to the back of the group as they staggered back, leaning on one another for support and chuckling and giggling about this or that.

Just when they entered the castle and made to go their separate ways—Merlin one way, the knights the other—Gwaine fell back and into step with Merlin, tittering about something Percival had said with his usual grin and a chuckle in his voice as he recounted the tale for Merlin. He laughed along with him, shaking his head as they walked towards Gaius', not bothered that Gwaine would choose to wander the castle for a bit longer with him than go back to his own chambers, as he had oft admitted to Merlin that he found the path to Merlin's chambers much more comfortable and familiar than the one to his own, fonder memories of his first visit through Camelot bringing him that way often enough.

However, when they finally arrived to his door, Gwaine grew silent and still, a sudden somberness over-taking his face when Merlin turned to him, half of a curious grin on his face as he wondered what was keeping his friend from his chattiness.

Before he could properly question it, however, Gwaine asked him, with a seriousness in his voice that Merlin hardly heard from him when he had this much to drink, "So... you an' Arthur—just friends, right?"

"Yeah, Gwaine, you know that." He was the one, after all, who had started those rumors in the first place, so why did he need reassuring? Why did he want reassuring?

"You don't have any feeli'gs for him whatsoever?" He asked insistently, almost pleadingly.

Merlin gaped at him, a crease in his brow, his neck heating up with the question as he opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out, leaving him standing there with his mouth in the shape of an 'o'. Why did everyone insist on asking him about that, he wondered briefly, a surge of panic flowing through him as he realized he hadn't said anything in response and, to a sharper, less drunk Gwaine, that would have been all the answer he needed. However, at the moment, Gwaine seemed to take his silence as something else, as he mumbled something to himself, nodded his head, and, before Merlin knew what was happening, had leaned forward and kissed Merlin's still open mouth.

It was sloppy, hurried, and left Merlin with confusion and the taste of stale laughter and mead when Gwaine pulled back, seeming to collect himself through whatever fog there was still around him when Merlin made no move to respond in any sort of way. He muttered a sort of apology and turned around to leave quickly, throwing Merlin a longing sort of glance over his shoulder before disappearing down the steps and out of sight.

Merlin blinked after him for a moment, unmoving, thoughts racing with what had just happened and what it would mean for their friendship, and, perhaps worse yet, what it might mean for him and Arthur, and Gwaine and Arthur—they were brothers in arms, after all. But that would... No, why would Arthur mind or put much thought into it at all? Those rumors were just rumors and the feelings were completely one-sided on Merlin's part. Arthur wouldn't mind in the least—if he ever found out, anyway, because why would Arthur even need to know? Merlin certainly didn't feel like discussing one of his best friends kissing him in such a state of intoxication with anyone, let alone Arthur. If Gwaine even remembered it in the morning, he supposed they might talk about it, and he might tell Lancelot, if he needed to talk about it with anyone, but Arthur? Nope. That wasn't the sort of thing he wanted to discuss with Arthur at all.

As he let himself in and slipped off to his room so as not to wake Gaius, he sighed to himself, thoughts still racing so, with just one cropping up from the tangled mess of his mind:

Everything was always so complicated.

I just thought I'd let you guys know that I've decided that the Death Poll on my profile will be open until June 14th, so on the 15th of June, I'll be closing it, so be sure to head over and vote before then. And, just so you know, I don't care how many of you vote for Merlin, I will not fucking kill him off, all right? I put him on there because I didn't think anyone would actually vote for him... So just... you cut that out.

As always, your thoughts are appreciated.

Always,
Hisa-Ai