Wow, it seems like everyone is shocked Crystia and I still even exist, let alone update haha...
Sorry, we finished this fic and then forgot about it and left it to rot in our folders. Don't worry, we'll get this all posted - nag at us if we forget again :)
-(m)applepie

ooo

For no reason Arthur could discern, Merlin was in a mood once more. Over the months, slowly but surely, Merlin had mellowed from the cautious manner he'd been treating Arthur, and the prince was certain he'd even been accepting his advances on occasions.

Arthur had grown accustomed to the lopsided grins that crept onto Merlin's face more and more frequently as of late. They just seemed to make the day so much brighter. He found himself returning them rather dopily once, before catching himself and correcting it to something more regal. For a while, Arthur had even found himself warming up to the idea of indefinitely continuing his false affections.

But then, just when Arthur thought things were settling into a familiar pattern, it spiralled out of his control.

Suddenly, Merlin had returned to his previous attitude: short, tense, and so polite Arthur internally cringed every time Merlin spoke to him.

Arthur couldn't see what the problem was. He'd done nothing wrong as of late. He'd been courting Merlin in a manner expected of someone his standing, and he'd even been willing to do things beneath his rank. He'd been unquestionably considerate, so it couldn't have been his fault. He'd made none of the mistakes he'd made with Gwen.

Certainly, this was Merlin being purposely obtuse, the idiot.

Still, the last time Merlin had been so moody, Arthur had successfully charmed his manservant out of it. Relapse or not, he saw no reason why this time should be any different. He quickly acted on his new plan, so as not to give Merlin any time to simmer.

He insisted that Merlin meet him on the training field after the knight's practice, in order to spend more time with him. It was a surefire way to rid Merlin of that surly look.

It hadn't taken Arthur long to win Merlin over with his wooing, and he'd quickly observed that the longer Merlin spent around Arthur, the more flustered Merlin would become. It seemed to encourage a certain gracelessness, causing the manservant to become even more clumsy than usual.

It was unexpectedly endearing to watch. Not to mention, much more acceptable than Merlin's current expression.

"Ah, Merlin," Arthur called out when his manservant finally arrived, crossing the training field to where he stood by his fellow knights.

"Sire," Merlin said courtly. "I've come as you asked. What is it you require?"

The manservant stood demurely in front of Arthur, hands clasped behind his back, as expected of servants, all formality and nothing intimate like Arthur had come to expect.

Arthur winced at the prim words. It sounded so unnatural coming from Merlin's mouth.

"Good," he said, trying to pull a semblance of normality into the conversation. Arthur made sure his tone was teasing. "I thought you might have gotten lost on the way." Although he'd been uncharacteristically nice to Merlin these past months, he'd never had the heart to stop their bantering. He knew Merlin enjoyed it, anyway.

"I apologize, Sire," Merlin replied with a bow.

But not anymore, it seemed.

Arthur held back an exasperated sigh, keeping his irritation from showing. He was supposed to be nice, considerate, and understanding – Merlin seemed to like those traits. Maybe. Possibly. Merlin never did answer what he liked about Arthur, so he could do little else but guess.

"It's fine Merlin, just …" Arthur waved his hand in the air, finding himself at a loss for words. He had mocking taunts at the ready, but there was no point if Merlin planned to ignore all the cues.

Merlin flatly stared him.

"What was it that you required, Sire?" he asked, tone dry.

What was Arthur supposed to say? He required Merlin to spend time with him, so that he would gush at Arthur's thoughtfulness, and realize that he was being unreasonably irritating with this new attitude.

"I require your … presence," he answered as officially as he could.

"And here I am," Merlin said. He waited. When nothing was forthcoming, he asked tersely, "Was there anything else?"

Arthur rubbed the side of his neck, eyes cast over the field, trying to think of an excuse. In the end, he replied with a reluctant, "No."

Immediately, Merlin dipped his head into a bow. "Then if you'll excuse me, Sire, I need to prepare your lunch."

Arthur perked at the words.

"Let's go together," Arthur said, grasping at the chance.

Merlin only gave him a bland look. "I wouldn't wish to impose on your precious time, Sire. It will be laid out for you when you reach your chambers." He bowed once more. "Now if you'll excuse me."

In an instant, Merlin was gone, halfway across the field before Arthur even noticed. It was like the manservant couldn't stand being in his presence for even a second more than necessary. Of course, that was ridiculous; Arthur had done nothing to deserve that kind of reaction.

There was nothing to do but stare—somewhat forlornly—after Merlin.

"What's wrong with him?" Arthur finally allowed himself to wonder aloud, actively trying to stop himself from groaning the words. "What's got him all up in arms like that?"

Even though practice was over, a few knights still lingered on the field, either cooling down or taking it upon themselves to do extra training. So it came as little surprise that someone overheard Arthur's question.

"Like what, my Lord?" Sir Bedivere asked from where he was taking gulps from his waterskin.

Arthur spared him a glance before staring back towards where Merlin had disappeared off to. "Like … that," he muttered, waving his hand in front of him as if it could convey everything.

Sir Bedivere blinked cluelessly. "He was a most proper servant, my Lord. Very diligent."

"Exactly," Arthur exclaimed. He shot a disgruntled look at the uncomprehending knight before he sought out one who would understand. Sir Leon stood a little further off, but Arthur could tell a conversation with him would be much more productive. He was staring much like Arthur had, confusion and disbelief on his face.

Leon slowly made his way over.

"Was that Merlin?" he asked, troubled. If it weren't for the fact Merlin's attitude was so unusual, Arthur wouldn't have bothered to answer that obvious question. Instead he cringed and nodded.

"Did something between the two of you, Sire?" Leon asked carefully.

He resisted the urge to throw his arms up in exasperation, because even though he'd grown up with Leon, it still did not bequeath him to behave in such an unprincely manner.

"How should I know?" he tensely muttered instead. He ran a hand across his face. "Merlin never makes sense."

"It is rather odd to see him so deferential."

Sir Bedivere looked between Arthur and Leon in bewilderment. Although Merlin was friendly to all, there were still some who only saw him from afar and knew him as nothing more than 'The prince's personal manservant'. Not to mention Bedivere was only a recent addition to Arthur's knights.

Never knowing Merlin's true personality in the first place, Sir Bedivere clearly proved unable to follow the conversation.

Leon took pity on the knight.

"Merlin," the man began, trying to find the proper words without needing to go into detail about the Prince and servant's unnatural relationship, "is a capable servant, but has his own … quirks. He doesn't normally act like that."

"If that's the case, then should my Lord only insist, he would act however you wish him to," Sir Bedivere offered his advice to Arthur, still obviously yet to grasp the problem. "He is a servant. He will obey your orders."

That, Arthur thought, was the least helpful advice he heard all day. Arthur wanted Merlin to not act however Arthur wished. He wanted the actual Merlin who was insolent and irritatingly cheeky.

He wanted the Merlin who was the worst manservant ever – the one who listened to Arthur only half the time and obeyed his orders even less. That Merlin had his instances of obedience, of course. Arthur wouldn't say it was pleading, but if he asked persistently enough, Merlin often relented, recognising Arthur's stubbornness and knowing that he could either concede or be forever nagged about it.

Arthur froze suddenly at that thought. Abruptly an appalling realisation formed.

Merlin would obey if Arthur pressed him long enough. That was true. That had been proven multiple times before.

Scenes from the last few months flickered before his eyes, each one making Arthur dread a little more as it provided additional insight. Arthur recalled his persistent asseverations of love, his numerous attempts to curry favor, and force Merlin's acceptance of his proclamations. He'd tried again and again, regardless of the results, because he was certain that Merlin was only being shy and he would accept it in the end.

But now, with his sudden realisation in mind, Arthur was suddenly struck with the possibility that Merlin had only played along because of his role as servant.

But no, that couldn't be it; Merlin loved him. That was what had started the whole mess. Merlin was hopelessly in love with him but refused to admit it because he was so horrified at having his feelings found out.

…wasn't he?

For a second time that day, Arthur froze in his tracks, the new realisation barreling him over.

His breath left him in a deep gasp; Merlin had never once said he loved Arthur this whole time. It had only been Arthur who'd uttered the words, never Merlin.

Did that mean Merlin actually didn't love him?

Arthur wandered back to the castle, dazed, mind cast back to the previous months. He tried futilely to remember any instances where Merlin explicitly reciprocated his attentions, but drew up blank.

The thought triggered a new idea, equally worrying; what if Merlin genuinely thought Arthur was the one in love?

Merlin hadn't stopped Arthur from courting him, but he hadn't encouraged it either. Now that Arthur thought about it, Merlin had been watching him carefully the whole time, scrutinizing his every effort with a wary eye.

Was this because Merlin had been searching for cues from Arthur in order to act accordingly? Merlin would do just about anything for him, Arthur knew that. Did his loyalty stretch so far as to include feigning affection for his master's sake?

But then why the sudden change in attitude; why was he suddenly so petulant?

Arthur made his way into his chambers. On the table was his promised lunch, still warm from the kitchen. Merlin stood to the corner of the room, waiting for Arthur's arrival.

"Merlin," Arthur greeted, feeling relief at the sight of his manservant.

He didn't know why but he'd been worried Merlin would escape after leaving the food in his chambers. Seeing him here, though, waiting, even when the prince hadn't told him to, Arthur wondered if perhaps Merlin had finally realised he'd been overreacting by unwarrantedly giving him the cold shoulder.

Upon his approach, Arthur anticipated Merlin to re-adopt his usual meaningless prattling, with maybe an apology or two. Instead his servant reached for the buckle of his armour.

His armour. Merlin was here for his armour. Something in him wilted at the realisation.

Merlin was silent as he worked to pull off the heavy metal plates and chainmail, and Arthur couldn't bring himself to fill the silence – mostly because he didn't know what to say. It seemed as though Merlin could be quick and efficient if he put his mind to it, because it took only half the time it normally did to undress him. Not enough for Arthur to think of a topic.

Then, the moment Arthur was slipped into his tunic and everyday wear, Merlin swept off, whisking the bundle of armour into his arms and heading out with a jerky bow.

Arthur couldn't have that.

"Merlin," he called out. Merlin's pace faltered into a stop, but he didn't turn around, staring resolutely at the closed door in front of him. "Where are you going?"

"I have your armour to polish, Sire."

Striding to the table, Arthur patted his chair emphatically. "Sit."

"And I still have yet to muck the stables," Merlin insisted, still refusing to budge.

"Sit."

"And your laundry-"

"Sit. That's an order," Arthur demanded. Why was it that even when Merlin attempted to be a proper, boring servant, he could still be a pain? "Surely you can leave those for later. When have you ever been that efficient?" he sniped.

There was a paused before Merlin slowly, reluctantly, turned around. His movements were tense as though he was forcing himself to move.

"I live to serve," Merlin intoned, finally dropping into the chair. The armful of armour dropped on the table in front of him with a hefty clang.

Arthur leaned on the tabletop, shifting his weight until he was half-sitting on it. He picked idly at his food, appearing interested in each article of his lunch, but really, he his whole attention was focused on Merlin.

Merlin was livid. Arthur could see it in his posture and the hard lines of his face. But the clearest confirmation was from his belligerent glare. The brewing storm in Merlin's eyes darkened any hopes Arthur had of resolving the issue between them.

Had the act of pretending to love Arthur really been so abhorrent that it caused Merlin's aggravation to build up strong enough to appear so obviously to the world? The thought of that sent a jabbing pain through his chest.

And he hadn't even noticed Merlin's act up until now. Merlin couldn't act - Arthur used to be certain of this fact. Now he wasn't so sure.

Just how proficient was Merlin at projecting an undetectable persona? Arthur used to think that even if the whole world betrayed him, Merlin was the one constant he could always trust, but now he wasn't sure of anything anymore. Had Merlin ever liked him, or had he been lying blatantly to Arthur from day one? Were they even friends?

Arthur couldn't help but remember the first day they met. He'd belittled him, almost killed him, threw him into the cells, and then the stocks, all within the first couple days.

Merlin hadn't even asked to be Arthur's manservant; it was a job thrusted to him by his father in a manner Merlin couldn't refuse. He was stuck doing the chores for a person who'd tried to humiliate him the moment they'd encountered each other.

Even the most forgiving man would likely hold a grudge. Arthur had to wonder if Merlin's hate for him had been building since then.

He must have finally crossed a line recently, for Merlin to spoil his years of acting without another thought. Casting his mind back to his most recent exploits, Arthur finally recalled the likely culprit.

He still clearly remembered the catatonic state he'd reduced Merlin into when he'd impulsively pulled his manservant into a kiss. Later on, Arthur had assured himself that Merlin's condition had been due to becoming overwhelmed with shock and joy, rendering him unable to form a proper reaction.

Arthur had been so pleased at himself, thinking he was finally succeeding his attempts to court Merlin.

Now it was obvious he'd pushed Merlin too far.

Arthur felt nauseous at the thought. He clenched a grape in his hands, staring mindlessly at the dripping mess, unable to stomach another bite of his food.

In a fit, he shoved his lunch from the table with a solid push. Even the sound of the platter crashing into the floor, which should have been loud enough to shake his mind free from the ensnaring truth, didn't do as desired.

It was Merlin's voice that jolted him, startling him to laboured breaths. He'd completely forgotten Merlin's presence.

"More work for me to do, Sire?" Merlin asked dryly, pulling himself up from the chair.

Arthur's eyes lowered onto the soiled lunch, before snapping upwards to lock on the manservant. Merlin's lips were pulled in a thin line, stretched so tightly like he was forcing himself not to make a retort he would regret. It wasn't the first time Merlin had done this either, and Arthur cursed himself for being so blind to it all this time.

Mouth open, uncertain of what to say to convince Merlin it wasn't on purpose, Arthur wondered once again why it was so difficult to accept his sudden revelation. If he'd been inadvertently doing these kinds of things to Merlin all this time, it was no wonder he would hate him.

"No," Arthur said quickly, pulling Merlin up from where he was kneeling, where his hands were already sweeping the food. "I'll get someone else to take care of that."

Merlin stared warily at him but abandoned the task as requested.

"Well, er," Arthur floundered for something to say. He grabbed the discarded armour from the table, all but shoving it into Merlin's unsuspecting arms. "Here. Polish this. I'm sure you have plenty to do," he rambled, eager to send the manservant off so he could wallow in his grief in private.

It almost hurt how little work it took to get Merlin to scamper off. If anything, Merlin looked glad to get away from Arthur.

Arthur buried his face into his hands at the undeniable proof.

He'd always noticed something about Merlin, but had never been able to place his finger on it. It seemed in his dream-riddled haze he'd managed to grasp at it – incorrectly, but close enough. Unconsciously, it seemed, he noticed the crucial detail that finally allowed him to see Merlin's true character; the detail that Merlin had hidden so deeply beneath his grins and endless chattering.

The only problem was that, since he was half-sleep, he'd guess the complete opposite.

Arthur had asked the wrong question. Rather than 'Are you in love with me?', it would've been quicker to ask 'Do you despise me?'. Then, perhaps, he would've gotten the affirmative answer he'd expected.

ooo

Arthur was sat in an alcove of the courtyard when Gwen came up to him. He'd hidden himself in the shadows, in a secluded corner, back pressing against stone arches for comfort. He had been easily overlooked by passersby, who would never expect to find the prince shying away from attention in a fit of self-pity. Gwen, however, knew Arthur better than most, and noticed him immediately.

"Arthur?" she called out to him, worry in her voice. "What are you doing here?"

Arthur forced a smile, but Gwen looked utterly unconvinced.

She eyed him cautiously before focusing on the prince's attire. "Should I fetch you your cloak, my Lord? The courtyard can be chilly this time of the year." There was no answer so Gwen continued on, "Or perhaps I can call Merlin to-"

"No," he blurted out, before he could censor himself. "Not Merlin." Then he groaned as the reminder of his manservant caused the problem to invade his mind once more.

Gwen was understandably confused. "Did something happen again? I noticed Merlin seemed a little irritated, but surely it's not something that can't be sorted. Whatever you've done, Merlin-"

"Merlin hates me," Arthur blurted out, refusing to listen to Gwen wax poems about the leniency and virtue of his manservant. Not when it was so obvious Arthur was the exception to Merlin's otherwise compassionate nature.

"That's nonsense," Gwen declared incredulously, staring worriedly at Arthur. "There's no reason Merlin would hate you,"

The expression Arthur sent her was more of a grimace than a smile. The handmaiden shook her head.

"But Arthur, didn't you say that Merlin loved you, earlier?" Gwen pushed on. The unchanging expression on Arthur made her falter for a second, but she carried on determinately. "You were convinced Merlin was in love with you. Certainly you trust your own judgement."

Arthur's teeth grinded together. It hurt him to admit it, especially out loud, but Guinevere deserved to know the whole story. She'd been diligently advising him so far.

"I was wrong."

"Oh," Gwen murmured sympathetically, not necessarily a sound of agreement, but at least she finally seemed to grasp the severity of the situation. "What happened now?"

"I was so blind," Arthur said, staring blankly at his feet. "I thought I'd given him an opportunity to finally express his love to me, but it turned out he'd only been doing it for my sake."

Gwen blinked.

"He doesn't love me, but thought I loved him," Arthur clarified.

Gwen blinked again, eyebrows furrowed this time, like she couldn't fathom the words he was telling her. Arthur didn't understand why it was so hard to comprehend.

"Well," Gwen began slowly, carefully, "if you think Merlin actually doesn't love you, and you actually don't love Merlin, then isn't this a good time to tell him the truth about your confession?"

Arthur's heart leaped at the thought.

"I can't."

"I realised you had set it upon yourself to hold this deception forever, but clearly there is no more need for it if Merlin truly has no affections towards you, Sire," Gwen pointed out reasonably. "Merlin will understand if you explain the reasoning behind your actions."

"I can't," Arthur insisted. "You don't understand. Merlin hates me."

"I'm certain Merlin doesn't-"

"He does," Arthur stressed, as much as he hated the thought himself. Spending all evening trying to deny the words hadn't made things easier.

Arthur slid down the stone wall, back scraping across the jagged edges through his tunic. He ended up crouched at the foot, curled in miserably on himself.

There was no possibility Arthur would ever retract his words. Not anymore. Right now Arthur's 'love' was the only link holding Merlin and him together. Without it, there was no connection; without it, there would only be hatred left, and it was too easy for that hatred to sever their ties.

A cold chill, capable of taking away even the warmth of his beating heart, fell over his body at the thought of that loss. It was like the cold that spread through those of the dead - and wasn't that just telling? Death was comparable to a life without Merlin, and Arthur couldn't bear to imagine it.

He couldn't give Merlin more reason to hate him.

He couldn't give Merlin more reason to leave.

Arthur lowered his face into the crook of his arm, speaking muffled words, more to himself than Guinevere.

"I can't lose him. I don't care if the truth is that he hates me. I can't," Arthur said, and maybe the crack in his voice wasn't only imagined, but Arthur found himself unable to care enough to deny it.

Standing above him, he never noticed the way Gwen's eyes widen at his confession, drawing a conclusion that he himself had still yet to realise.

ooo

Guinevere was a perceptive woman. She'd spent years as a handmaiden, observing others unseen and unheard, as was expected of servants. She'd seen drama unfold in the castle, and had been privy to the love affairs of those residing.

It wasn't difficult to see the budding relationship between Arthur and Merlin. Gwen saw the way the two acted together when no one else was around. Merlin was a private person, but if one took the time, he was easy enough to read. Especially by his friends - except Arthur, Gwen supposed, but he was a Pendragon, emotionally repressed and ignorant, since things such as 'feelings' were a sign of weakness. She couldn't blame him. Much.

In the beginning, admittedly, Gwen never noticed either, too blinded by Merlin's presence, and then Arthur's. After Arthur had told her that Uther would never approve a relationship between them, she'd kept her love for Arthur to herself, quietly trying to suppress her feelings. It was only because of Merlin, so understanding and encouraging, that Arthur had even tried to pursue her, regardless of social class. It had only been because of Merlin that she'd accepted those advances. It had been Merlin's belief in her that had given her confidence.

Only after elevating Merlin to the rank of best friend, and subsequently noticing the man behind the clumsy demeanour, that she'd finally realised. Now, she caught so many little instances between Arthur and Merlin that she didn't know how she'd missed them in the first place.

She could see the soft glances and shy smiles that Merlin sent to Arthur as they carried on through the day. Always following half a step behind his master, the prince never saw it. Gwen, however, caught it every time she walked past the two.

It took Gwen too long to recognise that Merlin was much too considerate. If Gwen knew anything about Merlin, it was that he prioritised everyone else before himself. Despite being enamoured with Arthur himself, Merlin had never failed to support her. And perhaps he would never do anything else but support if Gwen didn't intervene.

All Merlin needed to do was ask, and she would willingly return the favour, and aid Merlin the best she could. However, Merlin never did, and for the longest time, Gwen only had her suspicions of Merlin's affections and no excuse to act on them, lest she seemed intrusive.

But by now, Gwen knew that if she didn't take matters into her own hands, Merlin would never find happiness, too ready to give it away to someone else instead.

She'd overlooked the matter for a long time, and now she couldn't avoid it any longer - not with Arthur's and Merlin's fight ruining years of friendship between them. Even worse now that Arthur undeniably loved Merlin back, and that it wasn't simply an ill-thought scheme.

It was saddeng to accept that Arthur would never be anything more than a friend to her, but she also recognised that their relationship would never match whatever he and Merlin had. She cared deeply for them both, and resolved to never ruin such a love story because of something so petty as jealousy.

Merlin loved Arthur, and it was apparent Arthur loved Merlin back. Now, the only problem was a misunderstanding that Arthur had most likely caused; as their friend, Gwen took it upon herself to aid their reconciliation. Their happiness was her happiness.

And so, with those thoughts, Gwen found herself currently dithering before Merlin's room at the back of Gaius's chambers, hesitant to enter. The thought that Gaius could be back at any minute spurred her on, and so she raised a fist to knock lightly on the door.

She pushed it open at Merlin's call.

"Merlin?" she greeted tentatively.

Sprawled out on his bed, he sat up straighter upon her entrance.

"Gwen," he exclaimed, before noticing the cautious look on her face. "What's wrong?"

The manservant had a rag in his hands, and a piece of Arthur's armour in this lap, busy at work. Her determination faltered.

Merlin blinked up at her, worry blatantly showing every minute she held her silence. With a purposeful breath Gwen quickly pushed on. "Sorry, I was wondering if you had a moment."

Merlin studied her for a second before answering.

"I'm just polishing Arthur's armour," he finally said. There was a grimace as Arthur's name passed his lips. "It can wait."

"Oh, no, please don't stop on my account. We can talk while you polish," Gwen said. If anything, she preferred to talk without Merlin's eyes boring into her. She rambled at the best of times, and it only worsened when she was nervous - she didn't want to give away something she didn't intend to.

Merlin, oblivious to her thoughts, cast a dark look at the metal plated armour instead. She felt uneasy at the sight, because no matter how much Arthur and Merlin might argue and insult one another, their fights never lasted long, and Merlin always forgave him in the end. Arthur must have hurt Merlin badly, for him to still show so much disdain at the mere mention of his name.

"He deserves to have rusty armour," Merlin muttered under his breath. Even so, Merlin's hands moved religiously, polishing thoroughly.

Gwen watched him work, eyes softening at the sight. No matter what he said, Merlin would never allow Arthur's armour to rust and fail on him. Merlin could complain about Arthur, could hate Arthur, but in the end, he looked after his prince, even if it gave him no pleasure to do so.

And while Merlin often vocalised his complaints, this time differed from usual, because his words held no humorous undertone, and his eyes utterly lacked their mischievous sparkle. Only cynicism remained.

What had Arthur done, and why hadn't she tried harder to stop him when she'd spoken with him? Guilt squirmed in Gwen stomach, knowing she was at least partly to blame for Merlin's acrimony.

"I know it isn't my business. I won't interfere if you ask me not to, but I'm worried," Gwen said softly, moving towards the bed. She took a tentative seat beside Merlin, who'd all but abandoned his duties by now and had his hands clenched into fists on his lap. "You and Arthur are wonderful friends, even if he won't admit it. I know better than anyone Arthur can be oblivious at times, but he really does care about you. Whatever he's done, remember he cares."

When Merlin finally looked up at her, his expression was nothing she expected.

There was a tight smile on his face that carried no cheer. It was forced on like the painted face of a jester. "Does he?" Merlin retorted, trying—and failing—to speak the words lightly. They prickled sharply instead.

Startled, the word dropped out before Gwen could think. "What?"

"Does he really care, or is he just having fun at my expense? It doesn't matter to him if he lies to me, does it? I'm just a servant. Just stupid Merlin, who cares how I feel. He has plenty of other people to serve him," Merlin spat venomously. Then he seemed to catch himself and lower his head in a silent apology for directing his tone at Gwen.

Gwen's eyes widened. Surely Arthur wasn't so horrible as to deserve this much resentment? She had no idea how things had gotten this way, when just weeks ago Arthur and Merlin were getting along better than ever.

"That's not true. Merlin, please," Gwen said, urging him to see sense.

Merlin only shook his head. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, but don't lie for my sake."

Gwen tried to make sense of Merlin's self-deprecation, but she remained clueless despite her best efforts. Then, Merlin spoke up once more, and she finally understood.

"I- I heard," Merlin confessed lowly, the words thick. Merlin trundled through the simple words so reluctantly, Gwen could tell Merlin had been actively avoiding to think about it for a while now. Now spoken, however, he had no choice but to accept them, and if anything, it only made Merlin grow more bitter.

Dread filled Gwen.

"What did you hear?" she asked, helplessly praying she was wrong.

Merlin's eyes were filled with wrath.

"Arthur was playing with me," he said acerbically, torn between self-deprecating and mocking. "With my 'feelings'."

"Oh no," Gwen whispered. Arthur would never talk about his deception with anyone, and he hadn't even with Gwen until she'd brought it up and pressed him. There was only one time Merlin could've have overheard that. "Oh, Merlin, what did you hear?"

She hadn't meant for her question to be answered, breathing the words almost unconsciously in her dismay, but Merlin heard and did so anyways.

"I heard everything I needed to," he said in an agonizingly controlled voice, "when you confronted Arthur, on my behalf. You're a good friend."

Merlin turned to gave a grateful nod Gwen didn't feel she deserved. Then, he let out a long sigh, air escaping him until he hunched in place, looking defeated.

His next words were so quiet Gwen knew they hadn't been intended for her ears, but she heard them nevertheless. "I just- I thought I could trust him."

If a confrontation with Arthur was all Gwen had done, maybe she wouldn't feel so guilty. But she'd been the one who'd put that ridiculous notion of a fake romance in his mind, the idea that had started this whole mess in the first place.

Gwen tried to remember the exact words that had been exchanged, but couldn't. Had Arthur honestly seemed as cruel as Merlin had perceived?

Perhaps Merlin hadn't heard the whole conversation. Gwen was certain that if it had been the whole thing, he would have heard the unease Arthur felt about his own decision as well. Or perhaps Gwen had only noticed because Arthur had been right in front of her. They'd been in Arthur's chambers at the time, and it was possible his sturdy wooden door had filtered the heaviness out of Arthur's voice until it was indistinguishable to Merlin outside.

"It may not be my place to say, but Arthur-" Gwen began.

"No." Gwen startled at the harshness in Merlin's voice, and even Merlin himself seemed a little taken aback. Nevertheless, Merlin composed himself, shaking his head. "Please. I don't- I can't."

"What can Arthur do to make it up to you?" Gwen questioned pleadingly.

Merlin gave a bitter, hollow laugh. "He'd had plenty of chances, but he chose to continue lying."

Merlin looked away, fingers reaching for his polish rag. He pulled the armour closer to himself and scrubbed at it for a long quiet minute before shaking his head once more. His words were distant and heavy.

"He's lost my trust."

It had always been undeniable that Arthur held two absolute things of Merlin's. His trust and his loyalty. How long would it take to lose the other if Arthur didn't make things right, and how would it affect both of them?

Gwen didn't want it to come to that.

"Sometimes, when you start telling a lie... The longer you tell it, the harder it is to tell the truth rather than to keep up the facade," she said quietly.

Merlin paused at her words. There was a strange look in his eyes as he regarded her carefully, then he shook his head.

"That doesn't make it all right," he said sharply, face pinched before continuing. "Not in this case."

Something about that last part that seemed so much more significant than Gwen could understand, but she didn't allow herself to dwell on it and carried on regardless.

"No," Gwen agreed. "He hurt you. Nevertheless, he does care. He just behaved selfishly and took advantage of your feelings."

Merlin's gaze showed disbelief.

"If he cares about me, how could he lie like that?" Merlin shot back.

"You can care about someone and still lie to them," Gwen pointed out logically, and Merlin's fingers froze, the polishing cloth unmoving. His teeth bit into his lower lip. "In fact, sometimes, the more you care about someone, the harder it can be tell them the truth."

Merlin didn't say anything, fidgeting with the polish rag. Gwen took the opportunity to press on.

"If he hadn't cared for you at all, he wouldn't have struggled so much to tell you the truth," she insisted. "He would've told you and then laughed at your expense. Yet when I spoke with Arthur, he swore he'd never tell you because he thought it was a betrayal you couldn't forgive."

"Maybe it is," Merlin said, his voice choked. His words sounded oddly heavy, as though the topic held some deeper, greater meaning for him than it did for Gwen. There was conflict in his eyes. "Maybe some betrayals can never be forgiven, no matter how much one cares for the other."

That didn't sound quite right, and Gwen wavered, confused.

"I think," she said slowly. "That you should trust his intentions. If your positions were reversed... if you'd lied to protect something important to you, wouldn't you want Arthur to forgive you? Your friendship is very important to him, Merlin. He wouldn't have lied for any other reason."

Merlin was quiet for a long time, looking more wistful than angry now. Gwen was uncertain if this was a good sign or not. She decided it was best to refrain from disturbing him. She smoothed her skirt, as she rose to her feet, quietly moving to the door in order to let Merlin think things over alone.

Merlin's polishing cloth and armour were laid on the bed, forgotten.

"Gwen?" he said, making her pause before she could reach for the door.

When it became obvious he wouldn't elaborate without encouragement, she prompted with a soft, "Yes?"

"Do you think," he started, before drawing up short. He tried again. "Do you think, if our positions were reversed, that Arthur would forgive me? If I'd lied and betrayed him, but I'd done it to protect him and our friendship... Do you think he'd ever forgive me?"

Gwen's eyes widened, wondering at the implications. Still, she had great faith in Merlin, and decided not to press. Perhaps he'd tell her in his own time. Whatever it was, she was sure that he wouldn't have done anything so terrible that she couldn't forgive him.

She couldn't speak for Arthur, but she suspected he'd feel much the same.

"I don't know what could possibly have you so worried," Gwen said gently, "and I can't promise anything. But I can tell you that Arthur does care. Even if he was angry like you are now, I think in the end, he'd want to get through it with you by his side. Just like I think that you'll forgive him now, because you're just as scared of losing him as he is of losing you."

Merlin didn't look like he believed her, slumped as though bearing a weight far too heavy for his lanky shoulders. He looked terribly sad and lost, and the contrast was so great from his normal chipper demeanor, Gwen felt like crying.

"Oh, Merlin," she said, taking a few steps towards him and drawing him into an unplanned hug. She didn't care how improper it was, to hug him like this when they were alone in his room. She knew he wouldn't make any indecent assumptions, and right now, he was a friend who needed comfort, and she'd be damned if she didn't provide it.

"I-" he began, voice cracking and cutting off. He buried his nose in her shoulder. "I don't know what-"

"You don't have to tell me," Gwen said, squeezing him tight. "But I want you to know that you can, if you want, and that you're the best friend I have, and Arthur's too. No matter how poor he is at showing it sometimes."

They stayed like that for a while, Gwen rubbing his shoulder, and Merlin sniffling despondently while Gwen pretended not to notice. He finally quieted, perking up and drawing away when they heard a thump of the front door; Gaius had returned.

Merlin drew away, and Gwen stepped back as well, giving him space to recover. Scrubbing at his cheeks, he avoided her gaze, keeping his head down to allow his hair to hide his face and cover up red-rimmed eyes.

"Thank you, Gwen," he said, nevertheless sincere, despite his apparent embarrassment.

"It'll be all right, Merlin," she reassured him softly.

When he nodded, she slipped out the door, uncertain what had happened, but hoping for the best.

ooo

Arthur then: Merlin loves me!
Arthur now: Merlin hates me!
Well that escalated quickly.

EDIT: pleasantly surprised Mapplepie wrote an author's note; I told her she had to post/write the A/N next time, and I believe her exact words were "I'm gonna throw it at 'em with no explanation" -Crystia