The rafters had collapsed the moment Merlin passed under them into the stone granary, and now formed a barrier between him and escape, a flaming, impenetrable barrier which gave off foul brown smoke, thanks to years of kitchen grease soaked into their timbers.

On the positive side, there was nobody still in the kitchen. Only Merlin, and he not for long. The fumes would swiftly weaken him beyond help, and after that, death would be preferable to survival anyway.

Merlin looked at the ventilation slots - you could not call them windows - high in the granary wall. They were too small for a man. His only chance was to blast out through the wall itself, using magic.

The castle would stand up to it. Camelot was made of tough stuff. It would be repaired. Then things would go back to normal, just Merlin, and Arthur, and a world of falsehood and deception.

Merlin hesitated.

"Merlin!" Arthur, wrapped in a wet cloak, bellowed from beyond the fallen rafters.

"Arthur! Go back, don't stay here, the smoke-"

But Arthur, typically, was ignoring Merlin and attempting to climb through the blazing wreckage.

"There's no way through," cried Merlin, watching in horror as sparks landed in Arthur's hair. "Go back!"

"I'm not leaving you here to die."

"And then you'll be trapped too, I'm weak, I don't know if I can use my magic..." Merlin closed his eyes, just for a moment. Hot smoke poured into his lungs.

Arthur was over the burning rafters in two bounds, and crouching beside Merlin on the floor of the granary. Smoke swirled above their heads. Arthur pressed his hand against Merlin's neck. A heartbeat. Good. He straightened up, looking around for a way out, but there was none.

"I can try to make a gap," Merlin whispered. "Lift me up, point me at the wall..."

"All right." Arthur got his arms under Merlin, heaved him around so Merlin faced the outer wall. The stench from the smoke got in Arthur's eyes and throat. He coughed. There was not much time. "Do it."

Merlin mouthed words. There was no sounds, but he opened his eyes and Arthur saw them flare gold, the sign of magical power. The granary wall cracked, and a single stone block crashed outwards.

Arthur shook Merlin. "That's good. Do that again!"

Merlin's eyes fluttered and closed.

"Merlin. Wake up. That's an order."

Once more Merlin sent a blast of power at the wall, and once more a block fell loose. Arthur sprang up and began forcing his weight against the loose blocks, pitting himself against a hundred years of masonry to make the gap big enough for two men's escape. Yes! It would be a tight squeeze, but it would be possible to wriggle through into the courtyard outside.

He held our his hand to Merlin. "Come on."

But Merlin, sprawled grey-faced and half fainting on a heap of grain sacks, smiled, and shook his head. "It's been a privilege to have... known you."

"Likewise but don't be an arse, just grab my hand."

"No. You're King, you have more important things than me to worry about..."

Arthur kneeled beside Merlin. Merlin's hands were cold. Arthur rubbed them, trying to revive Merlin. "You're wrong," he said. "Nothing's more important than you. Nothing."

Merlin opened his eyes.

Arthur closed his fist around Merlin's hand, and pressed it to his lips. "I mean it," he said. "Now come on." Arthur hauled Merlin to his feet. At that moment the stonework around the gap gave an almighty crack, and exploded in a shock of dust and grit. The outer wall juddered alarmingly.

Arthur did not wait. He grabbed Merlin around the waist and dragged him over the rubble into the courtyard. They stumbled together away from the blaze, to stand in cold clean air, on the cobbles on the far side of the great square.

Merlin leaned back against the cool solid wall of the castle and breathed shallowly.

They were alone. Everyone was within, fighting the fire.

Arthur rubbed his hand over his forehead. "Good grief, I thought I'd lost you."

"Not me. You're stuck with me."

They clutched at each other. The moment lasted a shade too long and Merlin said, "Sorry," at the same moment Arthur did.

"You should have left me," Merlin said then.

"Never," said Arthur. "Would you have left me?"

"No."

They stared at each other. "I knew about the spell," Merlin said. "I knew you were lying, pretending you didn't care for me any more." His voice cracked, and he coughed. He wiped his face with his neckerchief, and cast it aside. "I'll fix it, I will cure you, I swear-""

"Forget the cure," said Arthur. He looked into Merlin's eyes - they were almost the same height, Merlin a shade taller than the King - and smiled. "I know." He traced a finger over Merlin's cheek.

Merlin recoiled. "You're, you're drunk, or something."

"I'm sober as a judge. Don't deny it Merlin. You love me. And I can prove it."

"No. This is the spell talking," said Merlin. "You're, you're wishing for something which can never happen..." But he stumbled over the words.

Arthur gripped his arms. "You stole my poem. You kept it."

Merlin's hand went involuntarily to his jacket.

"And you keep it with you all the time," Arthur added. He rolled his eyes in acknowledgement of his own blindness. "Of course you do."

"That doesn't prove anything," Merlin said. "Just that I ... like poetry." He was wriggling under Arthur's gaze.

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "Right. Because as a grown man with a proper job you would naturally enjoy romantic verse."

"There's nothing unmanly about poetry," said Merlin.

"Merlin. You collect flowers. You read books. You are the person I know most likely to enjoy poetry but that's not my point. You love me. Are you still going to deny it?"

Merlin sighed. "Is there any use? You've obviously made up your mind."

"True. And I am King, so you can't argue with me." He grinned at Merlin. "So you don't have to cure me, it's fine."

Merlin ducked his head. "It's moot anyway. I can't undo the spell. I've tried everything. But I can't find how it's been done. I really thought the Warlock's Tear soup had done it, but..." He grimaced, and closed his eyes.

"You did," said Arthur. "Think about it. You're the most powerful sorcerer in the land. You undid that hack's enchantment at the first time of trying."

"I felt it," Merlin said slowly.

"Yes. The spell went, but I didn't feel any different." Arthur shrugged.

"You wrote the poem after I broke the spell," Merlin said. "Oh."

Merlin leaned towards Arthur. A gesture, touching his forehead to his friend's, or brushing his chin with an affectionate hand, was all he thought. Anything more, however they might talk of love, would be madness. But as Merlin bent down, Arthur closed his eyes and tilted his face to Merlin in the unmistakable expectation of a kiss.

Merlin started, hesitated, then put his lips to Arthur's. There was no resistance. Merlin kissed him again, and now his hand was on the nape of Arthur's neck. He closed his eyes. Arthur's hands were on Merlin's shoulders, then around his waist. Their kiss was only mouths touching, noses bumping, breath slight and wary, but Merlin held Arthur tighter with each heartbeat, and knew Arthur's fierce grip in return.

Merlin drew back and opened his eyes. Arthur was already gazing at him.

There seemed nothing to say. Merlin caressed Arthur's shield hand in both his own. Arthur smiled, pushed Merlin's hair back from his brow.

"It's all right," said Merlin. It was a question.

"Yes," said Arthur, rubbing Merlin's jaw with his thumb. "It's all right."

Then he sighed, and rolled his eyes. "Well don't cry now," said Arthur.

THE END