Notes: Set in a Golden Age of Camelot AU, where Merlin is a court sorcerer and everyone knows about his magic already.

"No. Absolutely not."

"Arthur, please hear me out on this—"

"I said no, Merlin!"

The vehemence in Arthur's voice just then was enough to have Merlin take a step away from the King's desk. Arthur had sprung to his feet, one hand propped up on the table before him as he glowered at Merlin.

Still, Merlin was nothing if not stubborn. This idea was simply too good to be brushed off so carelessly. "At least let me explain the concept—"

"I don't need the concept explained!" Arthur snapped. "I don't want you in my head. That's final."

"But think of the many times we were separated in battle or on a quest—"

Arthur slammed his other hand down on the desk with a loud thud, "I will not let you read my thoughts!"

Merlin flinched and instinctively raised two hands in a defensive gesture. Still, he bravely pushed on, "I wouldn't be reading them, exactly—"

"Your King said no, Mage Merlin!"

Merlin's mouth abruptly snapped shut. Arthur's voice had gone from plain angry to dangerously cool and steely. It was the voice he used when he was speaking to a presumptuous lord mouthing off in council and it was highly effective in putting such people in their place.

Of course, Merlin was a lord who was mouthing off to the King. Granted, his exact rank remained somewhat of a mystery to all, given the fact that Merlin still insisted on taking care of Arthur's armour and served him dinner about as often as not, while also sitting by Arthur's side at the Round Table and having been granted an entire tower of his own as quarters and magic laboratory.

"Forgive me, sire," Merlin said, laced his fingers behind his back and bowed his head respectfully, before patiently settling his eyes on Arthur.

Arthur stared back at him. Then, slowly but surely, Merlin watched the tension bleed away. Arthur's shoulders slumped, his spine relaxed, his fingers uncurled against the wood of the desk until finally, with a long-suffering sigh, he sank down on his chair. He rubbed two fingers over the bridge of his nose and leaned back.

"You're not going to let this go, are you?" he said wearily.

Merlin smiled with just a hint of cheek. "No," he admitted. "Actually, I'm kind of annoyed at myself for not having brought it up earlier. Mindspeech is just such a practical tool! It would be plain irresponsible not to use it."

"Plain irresponsible," Arthur repeated drily. "Wouldn't you say it's irresponsible to suggest cracking open the King's mind to read his thoughts?"

"It's not like that at all. I wouldn't be prying. I couldn't read your mind like a book. You would actively have to send me your thoughts. It's called mindspeech for a reason – it's just like talking."

Arthur ran a hand over his face and let out another long sigh. Merlin knew the exact moment he caved. With a tired sort of wave, Arthur gestured at the chair across from him.

Grinning, Merlin accepted the King's invitation and plopped down. "All right, let me start from the beginning…"

"And you're sure this will work?" Arthur asked dubiously.

Merlin aimed for a reassuring smile. "Quite sure."

"Even though I don't have any magic?"

"You were born of magic," Merlin replied confidently. "You're practically wrapped up in it. There's no reason to believe your mind won't cooperate."

They were in Merlin's tower, sitting cross-legged on the plush carpet – yes, the official Court Mage of Camelot lived in luxury like that – facing each other. As requested, Arthur had come dressed in comfortable clothes and had removed his boots for what would be their first exercise in mindspeech.

"You're talking like my mind is a separate entity," Arthur pointed out. "I thought I was my mind."

"In a way," Merlin agreed. "For this, though, you must see it as one part of many, a part that can be controlled by magic."

"Controlled by magic?" Arthur bristled.

"Not by me," Merlin hurried to explain. "I won't manipulate you in any way. Your will is your own as much as your thoughts are. Mindspeech is about sharing. Thoughts willingly given to one another."

Arthur still looked sceptical as he mulled that over, but eventually, he made a little beckoning gesture as if telling Merlin to get started already.

"We're going to begin with a breathing exercise," Merlin said.

"I know how to breathe," Arthur scoffed.

Merlin suppressed an urge to roll his eyes. It wouldn't do to antagonise the King. He needed to remember that Arthur had grown up fearing magic, that legalising magic had been a long and laborious journey, and that it was a rather small miracle they were sitting here now, Merlin's magic out in the open.

Patience was the key.

"You need to breathe in a certain pattern," Merlin explained. "It's a technique taught by the druids. It helps you turn your attention inwards."

"Right," said Arthur, arching an eyebrow.

"Trust your Court Mage, sire," Merlin told him. "Close your eyes, please."

Fortunately, Arthur did as he was told.

"Now, I want you to breathe in through your nose, hold that breath for about five beats, then exhale through the mouth for the same amount of time. Repeat thereafter."

Arthur followed his instructions, but soon scrunched up his face and cracked open one eye. "I don't feel anything," he complained.

Merlin let out a long exhale of his own to keep his temper in check. He shouldn't be irritated with Arthur. The King was trying, and that was worth something. Arthur was not the readily cooperative type, definitely not where magic was concerned. Merlin should be grateful he was going along with this at all.

"It's the first step. At some point, you should feel a sort of calm settle over you. Come on, focus please."

Arthur once more closed his eyes and dutifully kept breathing in the rhythm Merlin had described. After several minutes, he seemed relaxed enough and Merlin decided it was time for the next step.

Aiming not to startle, Merlin went on in a low voice, "I now want you to pick one word, any word you can think of, that you'd like to send to me. Fill your mind with nothing but that word. Make it as clear as possible. Understood?"

"Mhm," Arthur hummed and smirked.

Merlin frowned. "What word are you thinking of?" he asked suspiciously.

"You'll know when I've sent it to you," Arthur said smugly.

"I swear, if you're planning to use mindspeech to insult me—" Merlin started and Arthur actually sniggered. "Great. I should have known."

Arthur opened his eyes and grinned at him. "Imagine the possibilities, Merlin," he said. "I can call you an idiot all the way from the Darkling Woods!" He sniggered again, as if he were a teenager, not the King of Camelot. "I must say, the longer I think about this, the more I can see the potential of this mindtalk."

"Mindspeech," Merlin stressed, then made an abortive waving motion, willing Arthur to focus. "You're interrupting the learning process. Shut your eyes, clear your mind!"

"Your wish is my command, my lord," Arthur deadpanned, but he obediently closed his eyes.

Eventually, it looked to Merlin like Arthur was indeed thinking of nothing but one word. Time for some magic. Merlin closed his own eyes and drew up a tiny tendril of power from his core. Carefully, he let it unfold and grow across the empty space between Arthur and him until it prodded, ever so gently, at Arthur's mind.

A sharp inhale broke Merlin's concentration and the connection was lost.

"All right?" Merlin asked at once, eyes snapping open.

Arthur was staring at him. "I felt something," he said.

Excitement bubbled up in Merlin's chest. So Arthur was sensitive to this kind of magic! "Yes? What was it like?"

"It was… strange."

The excitement died down a little. "Unpleasant?" Merlin ventured.

Arthur tilted his head, then admitted, "No. I wouldn't say that. More like a tickle. Harmless, really."

Merlin grinned. "Oh, great! Let's try again, then!"

Soon, another strand of magic was poking and prodding, gently asking for entrance to Arthur's mind. The King's defences were strong, not easily breeched. That realisation filled Merlin with a strange sort of pride. Yes, the Once and Future King would not so easily back down and allow a sorcerer in. His many encounters with the likes of Sidhe had hardened him against such intrusions.

Let me in, Merlin thought, his magic tingling against Arthur's natural shields. It's just me. It's Merlin.

Something gave.

:: … clotpole clotpole clotpole clotpole… ::

:: Hey, that's my word! ::

:: …Merlin? ::

:: Hello, Arthur! ::

"Out! Get out! Now!"

Their connection was cut off abruptly. Merlin opened his eyes to see Arthur had abandoned his cross-legged pose in favour of scrambling to his feet. He was holding his head as if protecting it from an incoming blow.

"Arthur," Merlin spoke up, stunned, but the King had already come to stand and was now glaring down at Merlin. He had gone a bit pale about the nose, but his eyes made up for it, ablaze as they appeared with anger.

"Stay away from me!" he hissed, harsh in a way he hardly ever was with Merlin these days. "Stay out of my head!"

With that, he turned on the spot and practically fled from Merlin's tower.

"Arthur!" Merlin called after him, but the door had already slammed shut and Merlin was left sitting on the floor, staring at the doorknob. "You forgot your boots…"

With a hearty groan, Merlin dropped his head into his hands. He had spooked Arthur. Just fantastic. Another great feat by the mighty Emrys.

Project Mindspeech was off to a good start.

Arthur didn't talk to Merlin for three days.

That was especially awkward considering that Merlin had been scheduled to present a solution in council on how to keep a form of magical measles from spreading through the nearby villages. Arthur sat through the whole presentation with his arms crossed and stubbornly refused to react to anything Merlin suggested.

Gwen ended up taking over for the King, asking sensible questions and signing off on Merlin's plan after hearing Gaius's concurring thoughts on the matter. Afterwards, Merlin had to endure the confused and suspicious glances of the lords and senior knights for the rest of the council session. Even Leon, who was used to Arthur and Merlin being at odds for all kinds of reasons, was frowning at them.

Arthur probably shouldn't make a habit of snubbing Merlin at the Round Table like that. They didn't want to give those lords still harbouring a grudge over the repeal of Uther's laws any reason to hope. Merlin had already thwarted one murder scheme. He didn't fancy a repeat performance of Rogue Lord Attempts to Knife Court Mage with Blade of Magic.

"What's going on between the two of you?" Gwen asked after Arthur had dismissed the councillors and strode from the room without so much as a look for Merlin.

"I think I scared him with my magic," Merlin sighed.

Once he had voiced the thought out loud, the idea settled heavily on his chest, weighing him down. He could hardly imagine something worse than Arthur being afraid of Merlin and his powers. Some nights, Merlin still woke up from nightmares of Arthur rejecting Merlin with a look of betrayal and revulsion on his face, of being tossed onto the pyre or left in the dungeons to rot.

Gwen seemed to sense some of Merlin's turmoil. Her voice gentled as she asked, "What happened?"

Merlin explained about the mindspeech, while Gwen listened patiently.

"I don't think he's scared of you, exactly," she finally weighed in. "It's probably just the idea of someone rummaging through his thoughts that has him spooked."

"His mind isn't a storage box," Merlin replied. "I won't sift through there to find some hidden treasure. This is strictly about communicating."

"Well, the two of you don't always do so well with that," Gwen replied with a soft smile. "Communication, I mean."

It was true enough, Merlin supposed. After years of lies and secrets, Arthur and Merlin often had trouble finding the right words. Still, Merlin had been Camelot's Court Mage for two years now. Merlin liked to think they were moving past the hurt.

Merlin offered Gwen a smile of his own, though it probably turned out rather wonky.

"I'll talk to him," Gwen promised and Merlin couldn't help but reach out for her hand to squeeze it gratefully.

Gwen made for a fantastic Queen, but she was an even better friend.

Merlin was at the armoury, enchanting swords with durability spells, when Arthur showed up. He stubbornly wasn't looking at Merlin. Instead, his scowl found a target in three loitering squires, who promptly ducked their heads and scattered.

Without so much as a word of greeting, Arthur crossed his arms and grunted, "Guinevere sent me."

Merlin carefully set down the blade he had been working on and patted the empty spot next to him on the bench. "Please sit?" he asked.

Arthur did, but his body was stiff and he still appeared unwilling to look at Merlin, preferring to focus on a display of maces across the room. Merlin hoped he wasn't considering picking one up to pummel his Court Mage. (Not that Merlin couldn't win that fight.)

"I'm sorry," he offered. In all honesty, Merlin wasn't sure what he was apologising for. He thought he had explained mindspeech to Arthur well enough. He had seemed open to the idea, then freaked out after Merlin had sent him a simple greeting. Merlin didn't feel like he had overstepped, but clearly, Arthur saw it differently.

The King acknowledged his apology with a curt nod. After an uncomfortable stretch of silence, he replied, "You said it wasn't mind reading."

Merlin knew he had to tread carefully here. "And it wasn't."

Finally, Arthur looked at him. Unfortunately, it was to send him a withering glare. "No? I felt you, poking and pushing your way in. I wasn't sending anything to you, you entered my mind." Merlin opened his mouth to respond and Arthur added hotly, "Don't you dare deny it!"

Merlin closed his mouth again, trying to think of the best response. "Yes," he said eventually. "I did some poking and prodding. But I wasn't in your mind, exactly."

Arthur's glare intensified. "That doesn't make any sense. I heard you, in there." He tipped at his forehead.

"But it's the truth," Merlin said and shrugged helplessly. "In order to connect to you, I need to get past your defences. But it's not the same as infiltrating your thoughts or, gods forbid, taking over your mind!"

"Explain the difference!" Arthur demanded.

"We need to establish a bond, of sorts," Merlin elaborated, hoping he was getting his point across this time. "A channel of communication. For that to work, of course I need you to let me in, to a certain extent. But it's the shallowest level, Arthur, and once the connection is there, it will be two-sided. You will be able to prod at my mind, too. Just… Think of it as me knocking at your door!"

Arthur studied his face with narrowed eyes. "When have you ever knocked at my door?" he grumbled and Merlin relaxed a little at the hint of familiar banter.

"You're not much better in that regard," he dared to quip in response.

"Well, I'm the King," Arthur replied haughtily, but he was no longer glaring. It was a peace offering, and one Merlin gladly and readily accepted.

"I'm sorry I didn't explain myself better," Merlin said. "I never meant to scare you."

Arthur scoffed. "I wasn't scared."

"Of course not, sire," Merlin replied and hurriedly averted his face to grin down at his lap rather than into Arthur's face.

They sat in silence for a while, their shoulders bumping into each other at odd intervals as Merlin picked up the sword and resumed enchanting it. The metal glowed a warm gold and Merlin decided to sharpen it, too. He murmured the spell, familiar after years of caring for Arthur's weapons, then kept chanting as he ran a thumb along the edge. He could feel Arthur watching him work and was suddenly filled with intense gratitude that they had come this far – the King of Camelot watching Merlin work magic, right by his side.

Finally, Arthur cleared his throat. "Well, I'll be at your tower tonight, then."

"For dinner, too?" Merlin offered hopefully.

"Fine," Arthur replied gruffly and Merlin beamed at him.

It turned out that they had very little problem with Merlin contacting Arthur. Once the King had got used to the idea of mindspeech and came to trust the fact that Merlin did not randomly sift through his thoughts, they had a few, short conversations with their minds.

Teaching Arthur to initiate mindspeech proved a lot more difficult.

"This isn't working," Arthur groaned during their fifth night. "I'm not a sorcerer, Merlin, of course I can't just talk inside your head without your help!"

"No, you can do it," Merlin insisted, though he privately started to have doubts, too.

Merlin had been convinced that, once the connection had been made, it would lie dormant and could be brought to life by either party. But no matter how many visualisation techniques Merlin taught Arthur, no matter if they touched hands or looked at each other, Arthur simply couldn't contact Merlin at will.

"Perhaps it's only fair," Arthur mused, suddenly uncharacteristically morose, "I spent years shunning and hunting magic. Now I'm not allowed to reap the benefits."

"Nonsense. I am magic," Merlin said. "You didn't shun me. You embraced me." He paused. "Well, figuratively speaking. We never did have that hug…" He turned hopeful eyes on Arthur.

Arthur was unimpressed. "Don't even think about it."

:: Hug? ::

:: I said don't think about it. ::

"Fine," sighed Merlin. "I will find a solution, though. I promise."

And a solution he did find, after hours and hours of scouring his ever-growing library of magic tomes, courtesy of the royal treasury.

"My books say we need a focaliser," Merlin announced at the beginning of their sixth session.

"What's that?"

"An object infused with a spark of my magic. The powers within would help you activate the connection with the techniques we've practised, no magic of your own needed."

Arthur nodded thoughtfully. "Can you do it?"

"Spell an object? Absolutely." Merlin tapped a finger against his chin. "It would have to be something you carry with you most of the time." Merlin looked over to the wall where Arthur had taken off his sword belt. "Excalibur, perhaps? It's already quite powerful…"

"No. That's the first thing an enemy would take from me if I was captured," Arthur argued. He paused, then tugged at his finger. "Here. Use this."

Merlin blinked at Arthur's outstretched palm. "Your mother's ring?" he said, voice suddenly much thicker than before. "Arthur, are you sure?"

"You won't damage it, will you?" Arthur said trustingly and made an insistent motion with his hand.

"No, of course not, it's just—" Merlin shook his head, blinking a little harder just then. "Yes, I think that'll work nicely." He picked up the ring and curled his hand around it. With a whisper, he infused the metal with a tiny spark of magic, then returned it.

Arthur slid it back on without hesitation. "Feels the same," he informed Merlin, then closed his eyes without Merlin having to tell him.

"Now visualise—"

"I know, I know, Merlin, for the gods' sake—"

:: —you idiot, will you ever shut up! ::

:: Arthur! ::

:: What? ::

:: You did it! It worked! ::

:: It did? ::

:: Yes! ::

:: It did! Merlin, you're a genius! ::

:: …what? ::

:: I mean… good thinking with that ring, Mage Merlin. ::

:: Ah. Thank you, sire. ::

They both opened their eyes and looked at each other.

"This is brilliant," Merlin exclaimed.

"Let me try again," Arthur replied. "Make sure it wasn't just happenstance."

Merlin kept his eyes open this time, watching Arthur close his and scrunch up his face a little as he tried to concentrate and reach Merlin's mind.

:: Merlin? ::

:: At your service. How can your Mage help you today, my lord? ::

:: You're not funny. ::

:: Of course I am. ::

Arthur opened his eyes to look at Merlin. :: We should probably set up some rules for this. ::

:: Like what? ::

:: No loud thinking past midnight? ::

:: That shouldn't prove to be difficult for you, sire. ::

Arthur made a face. :: Again, you're not funny. ::

:: I can literally feel your amusement. ::

Arthur glowered and promptly cut the connection. "You never said anything about sending feelings!"

"I can only sense what you send to me," Merlin assured him, trying to suppress another smile. "If you want to keep something to yourself, keep it under wraps. Use the techniques I taught you and clear your mind before contacting me. It's not my fault if you let your guard down around me."

Arthur grumbled something unflattering, but didn't argue the point.

"We should test your range next," Merlin added. "At random intervals, whenever you want, try and contact me from across the castle and I'll respond."

Merlin was already lying in bed when Arthur sent his first long-distance message from his chambers.

:: I want a bath. ::

Merlin huffed. :: This isn't a service bell, Arthur. ::

:: You said to contact you whenever I want. And I need a bath. ::

:: So? I'm in bed, you prat. Call for George. ::

:: Your baths are better. Always the right temperature. ::

:: Well, I've got that magic touch. ::

Merlin smiled at the canopy of his very own four-poster bed. By the gods, but it was working! They were thinking at each other from all the way across the citadel, and Arthur had initiated the conversation himself.

:: I liked it better when you were just my manservant, you know, :: Arthur thought in that moment. There was a sense of wistfulness accompanying the words that made Merlin's heart squeeze a little.

:: Are you saying you miss me? :: he shot back.

:: No… ::

:: You know I can sense— ::

:: Shut up! :: Arthur abruptly cut the connection.

For a moment, Merlin lay perfectly still.

Then, on a whim, he got out of bed and reached for his robes. He could make an exception for the prat just this once. A scalding hot bath drawn late at night – for nostalgia's sake.

"I've noticed something strange recently," Gwaine spoke up as they made their way through the Darkling Woods on horseback.

They were out on patrol. Arthur tended to leave these kinds of tasks to his knights nowadays, mindful of the fact that he was the King and too important to be riding about catching poachers. Still, every once in a while, Arthur liked to gather his inner circle and get a bit of fresh air, leaving the stuffy dealings of court life behind in favour of camping by the fire and reliving the old days. Naturally, Merlin was expected to tag along, too, Court Mage or no. Merlin didn't mind in the slightest – even if they still made him cook and do the dishes.

"You? Noticed something? Should we worry?" Elyan quipped from behind.

Gwaine flashed him a grin that was all teeth, but continued unfazed, "You two keep staring at each other quite a lot." He gestured between Arthur and Merlin.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Sir Gwaine," Arthur said dismissively.

Merlin immediately sought out the King's eyes. :: Wait. You haven't told them about this? ::

:: No. I don't want them to know our minds are connected. ::

Merlin frowned. :: Are you ashamed of this? ::

Arthur frowned right back. :: Don't be ridiculous. ::

Merlin sensed it was the truth and relaxed in the saddle. :: Still. It's a tactical advantage, Arthur. Shouldn't they be aware of it? ::

"There! You're doing it again!" Gwaine exclaimed and pointed at them.

"Hasn't your mother ever taught you it's rude to point?" said Lancelot, and earned himself an actual rude gesture from Gwaine in return.

:: It's none of their business, Merlin. ::

:: I don't see why not. ::

"Seriously, what is going on?" Gwaine insisted.

"You know, he's right, sire," Leon added thoughtfully. "You seem to be having a conversation with your eyes."

"We're using mindspeech," Merlin told them, unwilling to keep up this stupid charade, and promptly earned himself a dark look from Arthur. "We talk to each other with our minds using magic."

:: You idiot! How on Earth have you managed to keep a secret for so many years? :: Arthur scolded him.

:: Sorry, I thought you were big on honesty these days? ::

"You're doing it now, aren't you?" Percival said. "You're mindtalking again."

"It's called mindspeech," Arthur corrected him. "And yes. We are."

"That sounds extremely handy!" Gwaine said with an excited grin. "Can we join in the fun?"

:: Great job, Merlin. Now they all want in. ::

This brought Merlin up short. :: Wait a moment! You wanted this to be something special, didn't you? ::

Arthur pointedly didn't think anything.

Merlin grinned. :: You did! You wanted this to be something only the two of us shared! ::

:: Merlin, please… ::

:: Yes, yes, I'll shut up. Just. It makes me happy, just so you know. Very, very happy. :: Merlin made sure to send a wave of happiness along with those thoughts.

Arthur promptly looked away, suddenly keen on studying his horse's mane. :: Yes, well. Don't let it get to your head. ::

:: You sent it to my head! ::

"No can do, Gwaine," Merlin lied out loud. "It's a special connection. Just Emrys and the Once and Future King, you understand. Ancient magic. Very… mysterious. The stuff of prophecies and destiny."

"Too bad," Gwaine sighed. "Can you imagine the potential for pranks?" But he didn't push the point.

:: There. Crisis averted. Thank me any time. ::

:: You're even more insufferable in my head than out there. ::

:: I can sense you're pleased, Arthur. No point in denying it. ::

:: I'm starting to regret this… ::

:: You're not. ::

:: Merlin…::

Merlin backed off, but he couldn't help smiling for the rest of the ride.

Percival had just enough time to wake them with a warning shout before the bandits descended upon their camp late that night.

It was chaos, as bandit attacks tended to be, a flurry of grimy men, make-shift weapons, shouts, and the sounds of metal on metal. It took Merlin half a minute to realise why this particular attack seemed to be especially chaotic, however. They had a sorceress with them – and a powerful one at that!

Of course, some vagabond witch wasn't a match for Emrys, no matter how much magic she might possess. But the bandit woman had the element of surprise, and Merlin, still half-asleep, was not as effective or alert as he would have liked.

The witch hit him with an explosion spell that knocked the wind right out of him. He crashed against a nearby tree with such force, he could actually hear the bones in his left forearm crack. He let out a scream – half pain, half frustration – and momentarily curled in on himself on the forest ground when he landed.

:: Merlin! Lords, are you all right? Merlin? :: Arthur's voice echoed through his head a moment later. It could only be described as frantic, accompanied with a bright shower of emotion. The intensity of Arthur's worry momentarily took Merlin's breath away, more so than the explosion spell had done.

:: Fine! Keep fighting! :: Merlin managed to send back.

He struggled onto his feet, bit down on the pain, stretched out his good arm and made short work of the witch, then sank back onto the ground to hide behind some bushes and wait out the rest of the fight. Arthur and the knights could easily handle the remaining handful.

:: Merlin? Where are you? Are you hurt? :: Another wave of worry washed over Merlin's mind.

:: Bushes, east of the camp, :: Merlin replied and heard footfalls just a few moments later. Arthur's face appeared above him as the King leaned over the bushes.

"Lazing at the side lines while the others do all the fighting, Merlin?" he drawled. "Old habits die hard, I suppose."

It struck Merlin in that moment: the stark difference between Arthur frantically reaching out in his mind and the insufferable prat smirking down at him just now. Had it simply been a lapse of control in the heat of the fight?

Suddenly, Merlin desperately needed to know.

:: Hurts, :: he thought, perhaps a little more pathetically than he needed to, and cradled his arm to his chest.

:: That bad? Do you need help? :: Arthur replied at once and came to crouch beside him.

Merlin blinked at him. "Broke my forearm. Both bones, I think," he said. "Nothing one of Gaius's healing spells and a few days' rest can't fix, though."

"Well, quit whining, then," Arthur said gruffly. "Come on, up you get, lazy-daisy."

Huh, Merlin thought to himself, then sent out a :: Thank you. :: as he was hauled to his feet by his good arm.

:: Careful with that arm now. Come on, back to camp with you and I'll fix you up for the way home. ::

"How is Merlin?" Gwaine's voice echoed through the forest a moment later.

"Being dramatic," Arthur called back. "Crying like a girl over a broken arm."

Merlin didn't dare check again what Arthur actually thought, or he might get whiplash. Arthur worried about him. Deep down, he was fretting like a – like a big girl's blouse!

Merlin had always known Arthur cared, of course he did. But it seemed Arthur cared a whole lot more than he would ever admit out loud.

From then on, it was impossible to miss the difference between Outside-Arthur and Inside-Arthur – for a lack of a better descriptor.

Outside-Arthur treated Merlin much the same as he always had: gruff and rough whenever it suited him, prone to making a cutting remark when he was in one of his moods, sorry and thank you seldomly uttered.

Inside-Arthur was a different story. Oh, Merlin and he teased each other telepathically as much as they did aloud, but their connection took the edge off the more heated exchanges. There was a warmth in every jibe, smoothing over Arthur's rougher edges that had chafed at Merlin for so many years. Apologies and gratitude seemed to come easy to the King when they did not need to be voiced out loud where they could be witnessed, and there had been a moment or two when Arthur had sent Merlin a wave of honest-to-the-gods affection.

Needless to say, Merlin took advantage of mindspeech whenever he thought he could get away with it, shamelessly basking in the attention of a less guarded, less filtered Arthur. It was balm for the thousand little cuts and scrapes Merlin had collected over the years, the myriad of hurts from a friendship constrained by painful – if necessary – lies and a difference in rank not always so easily bridged as either of them would have liked.

The praise, especially, got to Merlin like nothing else.

Merlin was fairly sure he could count the times Arthur had given him an actual, heart-felt compliment on one hand. Praise for a job well done to Arthur meant a firm clap on the back, a playful punch to the shoulder or the barest hint of approval hidden beneath a tease.

Inside-Arthur seemed to have less qualms telling Merlin he had done a good job. What would have been nothing but a curt nod in council weeks ago now became a :: Very well put, Merlin. :: A particularly clever piece of spell work was not only met with an approving look, but a :: I didn't know you could do that! That's impressive. :: Merlin was actually considering growing a bushy beard to hide the stupid grins that kept creeping on his face despite his best efforts.

Merlin had not known how much he actually needed to hear those words from Arthur. It bolstered him, knowing he had Arthur's absolute trust and approval, especially as his position at court was still precarious at times.

As was Camelot's position in Albion, as shown by the arrival of the delegation from East-Anglia.

Tensions had been running high between King Eadwulf and Arthur, with the former fearing Camelot's ever-strengthening embrace of magic was a form of aggression, a not-so-subtle declaration of war.

As Court Mage – and yes, as the catalyst behind Arthur's change of heart regarding magic, no matter that the King had never said so officially – it fell to Merlin to ease the worries of the East-Anglian emissaries. Rumours about the extent of Emrys's powers and the content of certain prophecies had spread across Albion like wildfire. Arthur had no ambition to be crowned High King of Albion. But many a king and queen still feared Arthur would seize what destiny foretold to be his by any means necessary, magical means included. Emrys, everyone knew, was a force to be reckoned with.

So Merlin was put through the diplomacy wringer, mitigating and mollifying, appeasing and assuaging, until even the most critical of emissaries would hopefully be convinced that Merlin had no plans to secure his King a much fancier crown.

Personally, Merlin thought the whole week was a disaster waiting to happen. Half of the time, he had no idea what he was actually doing and it didn't help that two years of elevated rank at court had not been enough to hide the fact that Merlin was a clumsy country boy and peasant at heart. Merlin felt like he had been committing one faux-pas after another and was making a fool of himself in front of the entire nobility.

When all was said and done and the East-Anglians were being sent on their way, Merlin was more than relieved to see the back of them.

:: You can relax now, :: Arthur thought as they watched the delegation get ready to ride out of the citadel.

:: These were the most stressful days of my entire life, :: Merlin returned.

:: You did very well. Actually, I think the success of this entire week might be thanks to you. ::

It took all of Merlin's self-control not to swivel his head and gape at the King. They were standing next to each other on the grand staircase and people were still watching. :: Really? ::

:: Really. I was impressed, :: Arthur continued. Out of the corner of his eyes, Merlin could see the King wave with a perfectly complacent expression on his face. :: Sir Wulfnot over there? Last week, he looked about ready to declare war right then and there on behalf of his King. Now he's told Leon he is looking forward to welcoming the knights of Camelot at the next jousting tournament. Said they should bring those magic-infused lances. ::

:: That's… good? ::

:: Very good. Guinevere said the East-Anglian ladies were all smitten with you, too. Thought you were all kinds of charming, conjuring them butterflies and flowers. ::

Merlin shuffled on the spot. :: Oh, well… ::

:: Ah, and we might have a new trade deal on our hands as well. King Eadwulf's ambassador seemed rather keen on getting his hands on some of those medicines you and Gaius have been experimenting with. ::

:: I might have shown him the laboratory… ::

Arthur chose this moment to send him a look. He was still wearing his diplomatic face, but there was an unmistakable sense of pride infusing his thoughts when he replied, :: Excellent thinking. Really, you make a good Court Mage, Merlin. To be honest, I couldn't wish for a better one. ::

Merlin hurriedly averted his gaze and rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes before he embarrassed himself and the entirety of Camelot in the process.

"Are you all right, Merlin?" Gwen asked him when the delegation had finally left the courtyard and things were breaking up. "You look a bit flushed."

"Autumn breeze," Merlin choked out. "I'm freezing in these official robes. Arthur should get me some fur-lined ones already."

Gwen looked him over, glanced at Arthur still standing to her right, then put on a knowing smile. Not for the first time, Merlin wondered if Gwen might actually be able to read minds, no magic involved whatsoever.

Merlin was at his desk, working away at his personal glossary of spells when he looked out of the window of his tower and spotted Arthur lurking in the snowy battlements.

Merlin frowned. He didn't like the look of this, the King prowling the walls alone. Even from a distance, Merlin could tell he was brooding.

On a whim, Merlin put down the quill, grabbed a cloak and made his way down the stairs, out into the courtyard and up to the battlements. When he finally found Arthur, the King was leaning against the stone, eyes roaming over the snow-covered fields beyond the city.

"Somebody is thinking," Merlin said as he came to stand next to him.

"Was I too loud?" Arthur returned. He sounded distracted. "I didn't mean to project to you."

"You didn't," Merlin assured him.

They were both silent for a while, watching the quiet fall of snowflakes. A group of guards passed them by, respectfully bobbing their heads before they marched on.

:: You look worried, :: Merlin finally thought.

Arthur sent him a tired smile. :: It's because I am. ::

:: The Saxons? :: Merlin ventured.

Arthur's sigh seemed to echo in Merlin's mind. :: The Saxons, :: he confirmed.

:: What do the reports say? ::

Arthur shook his head as if unwilling to talk about it. Yet he thought, :: Early, harsh winter on the continent. Third large-scale famine in a row. They'll be coming here in flocks by the time spring has arrived. Boats are being built all along the coast. ::

:: Looking for a better life, :: Merlin mused. :: Can you blame them? ::

:: I blame them for spilling our people's blood in the process, :: Arthur replied and Merlin could sense his determination then, his will to protect Camelot, the whole of Albion if he could.

:: It's not even past winter solstice. Ample time to prepare, :: Merlin pointed out. :: You'll make plans. I'll help, if you let me. ::

:: And if plans aren't enough? Desperate people do desperate things, Merlin. I can't know what the Saxons are willing to sacrifice. ::

Arthur's face had turned hard and closed-off. Under different circumstances, Merlin would have never dared touch the King in a moment like this. But he could sense Arthur's doubts and desperation pulsing along their connection and so he reached out after all, settled a steadying hand on his friend's shoulder. Arthur didn't pull away.

:: I believe in you, :: Merlin thought. :: You're a good king, Arthur. You will do what is right and necessary to protect your people, I'm absolutely certain of that. ::

Arthur looked at him, long and hard, then seemed to sag a little under Merlin's touch. :: Do you have any idea what kinds of things you're broadcasting when you send me words like that? ::

Merlin tilted his head. :: Not really. Support, I'd hope. ::

Arthur huffed. :: Support, yes. There's that :: He turned his eyes away, once more staring out into the snowy fields. :: Support and trust and loyalty and bloody devotion. :: He squeezed his eyes shut for a second. :: I never knew, before this. Before the mindspeech. How much you actually believe in me. ::

Merlin smiled. Arthur still wasn't looking at him, but Merlin was sure it carried across the bond all the same, just as Arthur's awed humility was reaching him. :: I always told you. I never lied, not where that was concerned. You're the greatest King Albion will ever see. ::

:: Yes, I know you said that. But I never really heard it. :: He chanced a look at Merlin as he tapped a finger at his forehead. :: Not here. :: He hesitated, then tipped at his chest. :: Not here. ::

Merlin looked at him for a long moment, filled with a fierce pride for this man who would do anything, absolutely anything at all to see Camelot safe. He bowed his head, "My king."

"Stop that," Arthur said immediately and swatted at him.

"Well, you are."

"You should remember that next time I'm giving you orders and you're ignoring them."

"I only ignore the stupid orders."

"I don't give stupid orders, Merlin."

"Of course not, sire."

"Shut up."

"Of course, sire."

"I mean it."

"Shutting up, sire."

In comfortable silence, they watched a white blanket slowly bury Camelot. Let the Saxons come, Merlin finally thought to himself. We'll protect Camelot, just like we always have.

The Once and Future King and Emrys.

Arthur and Merlin.