Hey. An on-time chapter that was a lot sooner than anyone expected, including yours truly, hahaha.
I finally figured out how to fix the enormous amount of plot holes I've managed to write into this thing. It will make the story longer than I expected but that's alright. Who knew the first line of a story could be a plot hole?
Three Months Ago
Mordred's words weren't terribly comforting, but Arthur liked to believe they helped anyway, if only so that he could give the knight the benefit of the doubt when he'd failed to do so before.
Merlin was aggravatingly normal whenever Arthur went to see him in Gaius' chambers, acting as though the kiss had never happened. The boy got good at hiding his flashes of melancholy even better than before, and so, Arthur began to believe that maybe it had been a false attraction on Merlin's part- one short, chaste kiss was all it took to break it.
He knocked on the door to the physician's rooms and received no answer.
He walked in anyway.
Merlin's door was open, and he could faintly hear the murmuring of voices, going back and forth and back and forth with increasing ferocity.
"Just stop!"
Merlin's voice rang out strong, clear, and authoritative throughout the rooms, and Arthur stopped automatically at the command. His eyebrows shot up and he crept forward, listening closely at the doorway. There was silence for a couple of seconds before, "Just… I don't mean to upset you, Em-"
"What have I told you?" Merlin cut across the familiar voice. "Let it be. I don't want to talk about Arthur and my feelings anymore. You come here to help me heal and then you destroy my mind. What is your goal here, exactly?"
"I just want to help."
"Then help me by leaving me alone."
Arthur had never heard such blankness. Such…cold detachment from Merlin before. His voice sounded like he was numb to whatever was going on, and completely disconnected from his brain. Whoever sat in front of him must have sensed the same thing because Arthur heard the scraping of a chair. Arthur scrambled back to the door of the physician's chambers as another statement reached his ears, "As you wish," which was odd. Merlin was a servant.
Mordred descended the stairs just as Arthur pretended to swing the front door open. "Hello," Arthur said, watching the young druid carefully. The boy looked near to tears.
"Sire," Mordred said softly, nodding as he swept past.
Arthur watched him go. Then he turned around and walked up to Merlin's room, which was still bare of his belongings. The man in question was sitting up on the bed, staring blankly at the wall, his bandaged arms outstretched. "Merlin?" he called.
The servant jumped a little in surprise as life flowed into his eyes, flickering to the door where Arthur stood. "Arthur!" Merlin said, shifting to sit up a bit higher. His arms wouldn't allow it, though, so Merlin gave up and instead treated the king to a small smile.
Arthur could see it. He saw the awkward fear and hopeful surprise in those blue eyes and he sighed before plastering a smile on his face, pulling the chair that Mordred had been on toward him. "When is Gaius letting you out of here?" Arthur asked, choosing to ignore the hesitance and the discomfort hanging between them.
Merlin's mouth twisted in distaste. "Another couple of weeks. I'm slow to heal, apparently…"
"Well, I would have thought even getting better would be within your range of abilities but apparently I was wrong."
Merlin's eyes lit up at the comment.
Arthur would like to say that it didn't twist his gut in guilt and worry, but it did, so the point was moot.
…
Arthur noticed when Mordred never turned up to training.
And then he noticed the boy around the town, trying to purchase fruit, only to be ignored by the vendor at every turn. He wished that he hadn't been so rash by banishing the druid, but it was too late now. He walked forward and stood by Mordred's side, causing the vendor to look over. "I believe you've missed a customer," Arthur said lightly, hand on Mordred's shoulder. "I've noticed that he's tried to get your attention for ten minutes now."
The vendor scowled but exchanged curt, anxious words with Mordred until the druid had a bag full of the fruit he'd wanted. Arthur guided him away and kept leading him until they were in a secluded area of the lower town. "I wanted to offer my apologies," Arthur said.
Mordred shook his head. "It's not your fault, my lord."
Arthur wished he could agree. Mordred shook his head when Arthur made to object to his statement, holding his hand up. "Please," Mordred said. "A king ought not worry so much for one man whose penance in life is to live this way."
And Mordred walked away. Arthur found himself speechless as he watched.
…
Telling Guinevere about the kiss was particularly painful; almost like wrenching a curved blade through his abdomen and up out his throat. He couldn't bear the thought of her anger, or her disappointment.
But she just furrowed her eyebrows and leaned forward across the bed, resting her delicate hand on his knee. "Arthur," she said, and he looked up to meet her eyes. She smiled at him. "I don't blame you for being the object of Merlin's affections," she said firmly, and he winced, and her grip on his knee tightened. "No, listen- it's not your fault he kissed you, and I'm not angry. Not with you, not with him. I do believe that he should have known better than to kiss a married man, but I also know that he has longed for you for years. We used to mutually pine for you, though after Mordred entered the picture, I would have thought he would have grown out of that…"
"What?" Arthur interrupted, confused. "Why would he care about Mordred?"
It came out worse than he meant it to, and now Guinevere frowned at him in disapproval. He winced, hurrying to correct his wording, "I just- I mean, Mordred is completely gone on Merlin, true, but I've never seen Merlin look at him twice before-"
"Oh, Arthur," Guinevere said. "He has always looked at Mordred," she paused, "although, I don't believe it was always nicely. Still, I remember when he looked at you like that, and then it changed, and it's changing now, too. Mordred will get his happy ending, and I really do believe you ought to forget about Merlin's feelings for you."
"How can you be sure?" Arthur asked, and watched his wife as she shrugged, a knowing smile on her lips.
"Oh, let's just say it's a woman's intuition," she suggested, and her smile turned wicked. "Now… Merlin did kiss you, and I don't know that I'm entirely comfortable with having him linger on you…"
Arthur smiled back at her, leaning in close, his arms going to her waist. "What do you suggest, then, my queen?" he asked.
She leaned closer. "I can think of a few things," she whispered, and they met in the middle, their kisses hardly gentle from the start. Arthur leaned back, pulling her on top of him, where she pulled at her skirts until they were settled comfortably between them.
"Oh, just get rid of those," Arthur demanded, and started undoing the laces. She laughed.
"As you command, sire," she said.
…
He managed to ignore Merlin for most of the night, and it worked surprisingly well.
Forgetting about it all came easy now that he had permission to do so.
"Sire!"
Leon. Arthur turned on the chair and raised his cup to his old friend, who raised his as well. "Long live the king," Leon muttered quietly, and Arthur's smiled turned more genuine.
"Thank you," he said.
…
"Those bandits are still moving, sire," Leon said the next morning.
Arthur glanced up from the reports the knight had just handed him and met the other man's eyes. "They are?"
"Yes, and they're now moving even more cohesively."
Arthur frowned, and looked over the reports with more consideration. "They're heading to that forest…" Arthur realized. "The Forests of Wychwood. What could possibly be there?"
"I've heard it's haunted, princess," Gwaine piped up, and Arthur glanced at his most wayward knight, frowning at the sight of his feet on the newly polished wood. Gwaine took no notice of this glance, predictably. "Haunted by what, though, is the question."
The king looked at the reports again. Surrounded by a magical barrier… impenetrable… slavers…
He didn't really want to find out, but he would have to.
…
Hunith was always a pleasure.
Arthur made sure that he ate in the physician's chambers at least once during her stay, and if it happened to be the night before, well. He was the king, and he felt like he was lucky he got to see the woman at all.
"How have you been?" he asked, and the woman smiled, tired.
"Mostly I've sat at home and fretted, as of late, but I'm much better now that I've seen my Merlin again," she responded, running her fingers through Merlin's hair. The servant didn't even try to duck out of it, instead, he leaned into her, no doubt finding comfort in her presence.
Arthur couldn't really blame him. He did envy him though.
Gaius handed him a bowl and Arthur took it gratefully as the old man settled on the seat next to him, and the four of them sat together and chatted for most of the night. Merlin said little, instead just sitting there with his eyes mostly closed. Arthur didn't mention it, knowing how exhausted his friend must have been in that moment.
…
Two Months Ago
When the curtains flew open without the typical "Rise and Shine!" Arthur thought he'd stepped back into that old nightmare.
He sat up quickly, only to find himself face to face with Merlin, who was about to rip the covers off. He reared back in shock, pulling his hands back into himself. "Sire!" he said. "Whatever you were dreaming about must have been something else. I have never seen you wake so quickly."
There was something off about this whole thing. The statement, the tone, the actions… Something was wrong.
"What?" he demanded, and Merlin gestured vaguely, turning about and heading to the cupboard with Arthur's clothing.
"It usually takes an army's worth of yelling and tugging to get your royal ass out of bed-"
"No, no, not that!" Arthur said impatiently, standing after roughly shoving his covers off himself. Guinevere shifted in the bed, her eyes opening, and he glanced over his shoulder to smile at her sheepishly. She rolled her eyes and then tugged the sheets over her head, disappearing. He felt like laughing and then a shirt hit him in the face.
"Then what?" Merlin asked, dutifully ignoring Arthur's outraged cry.
Arthur petulantly pulled the shirt on and grabbed the trousers in the air, tugging those on, too. "Something's wrong with you."
"You say that every day," Merlin protested, and Arthur rolled his eyes.
"No. Well, yes, there is something generally wrong with you, Merlin. But no, I mean something about today- there's something wrong."
Merlin paused, clenching his jaw. He folded Guinevere's dress in his hands almost absently as he attempted to burn a hole in the floor. "Tell me!" Arthur demanded.
"It's Mordred!" Merlin said loudly, turning to face Arthur. "He heard Morgana last night."
Guinevere sat up abruptly and Arthur felt his world tilt alarmingly. He steadied himself on the bedpost and asked, "What do you mean?"
"She spoke to him," Merlin explained, bending down to grab some of Arthur's laundry.
"How? Was she in the citadel?"
Merlin is the one who rolled his eyes this time. "By the gods, Arthur. No. There's a bit of magic called telepathy, and it allows magic users to speak from one person to another through thought."
Arthur hesitated. The idea sounded absurd and alarming. "And she spoke to him through his mind?"
"Yes. Apparently she was just calling him, but it was enough that he woke up and has one terrible headache today."
"And how would you know that?" Arthur asked.
Merlin never actually answered this question, Arthur realized later.
He just avoided it. Like Merlin avoided everything.
…
"The Forests of Wychwood are completely covered in fog and there are spells that set it on fire if you get too close, my lord," Percival announced gravely.
Arthur blinked dubiously at him. "Pardon?"
"The fog sets itself on fire," Percival repeated, sounding like he didn't believe it himself.
It sounded ridiculous, and Arthur figured that if those words came from his mouth, he wouldn't believe it either, never mind that he just saw it.
Arthur nodded slowly and looked from Percival to Mordred, who looked away. Arthur mentally sighed and looked then to Leon and Gwaine, the two of them looking grim as they stood before him.
"Is there no way in?" Arthur asked, and Gwaine shook his head.
"We looked, sire," Leon said. "We did see one man head through the fog, but he never returned."
"Did you see him clearly?"
"Nope," Gwaine stated. "He vanished as soon as we got close enough. Personally, I'm not sure it wasn't a trick of the light."
Well.
…
Arthur was able to look at Mordred and see a man. A brother in arms. An ally.
That changed when he saw the druid actually perform magic.
He tried not to react too obviously, but he still flinched, and was immediately grateful that Mordred wasn't facing him.
The little girl shrieked with delight as the little gray butterfly landed on her fingers, transfigured from a thin strip of fabric Mordred had had in his pocket. The druid was beaming at her, oblivious to the stares of varying degrees of shock and fear. Many looked to Arthur.
Arthur had no answer for them. He did not call for the guards to arrest him, nor did he arrest the knight himself. He just clenched his jaw and turned away.
Merlin watched Mordred, too, and didn't follow Arthur. The king glanced back as soon as he'd noticed, and found him engaged in a staring contest with Mordred, who eventually nodded slowly and stood. The knight caught up with Merlin and then passed him, too close to be anything other than intentional.
Arthur saw Merlin pocket something before he decided to yell, "Merlin!"
The servant jumped and scrambled to rejoin him.
…
He paced back and forth and back and forth and back and forth for days.
But in the end, he did nothing. Because what could he do?