Morning dawns on Camelot, bright and full of promise, and Merlin wakes with a cry of despair.
He arrives in at Arthur''s chambers with an air of deep resignation. This is partly due to the irritation of wearing a dress and the hair and the discomfort that three layers of underthings brings, but also a quiet fear that Arthur may have changed his mind during the night and he might just be out of a job.
Arthur is still asleep, curled into a ball and nestled under the various furs and quilts that adorn his bed. Probably, Merlin reflects, he wouldn't need so many if only he slept with a shirt on a little more often. Then again, it is no hardship for Merlin to see Arthur in a state of undress so early in the morning.
"Breakfast!" A sliver of blue appears at the edge of Arthur's eyelids and his hands fight their way from the nest of covers to claw at his face.
"I was hoping it was a dream" He mumbles darkly from behind splayed fingers and Merlin sighs. He had rather been hoping the same.
"I should be so lucky" He says darkly as Arthur struggles onto his elbows to eye him wearily.
"You know, you're not totally hideous" He says after a few moments, eyes roaming to the plate of fruit and meat waiting on the table. He seems to be on the verge of saying something more, and Merlin pauses to gaze back at him, hands buried amongst the wool and linens of Arthur's wardrobe.
But Arthur just shrugs and smiles affably and the moment slips away. Merlin can hear the prince rise, feet dragging on the bare wooden floor as he moves towards the table, still heavy with sleep.
"Was that a compliment sire?" Merlin smirks, does not let any of his surprise leak through his carefully composed exterior, because it is the closest thing to a compliment Arthur has ever given him.
"Don't get used to it" Arthur responds through a mouthful of ham. "I say that to all the girls" As cruel as the remark is supposed to be, Arthur's voice is not as sharp as he might have intended, and betrays a hint of something else below the surface.
"Well, it's a wonder you don't have them simply throwing themselves at you all the time" Merlin murmurs, unimpressed, and Arthur looks at him, wounded.
"Are you implying I'm somehow lacking?" He raises himself up to his full height, looking very princely indeed, and says "I'll have you know I could have anyone I desired, and they would consider it nothing less than an honour"
"Of course sire" Merlin agrees absently, laying out Arthur's clothes.
"I could have you even, if I wanted. " Arthur's tone is light and teasing and Merlin can't let that one go easily.
"You most certainly could not" He responds, folding his arms over his chest. "You won't be getting anywhere near my honour" And he narrows his eyes and looks as put-out as possible. Arthur snorts through his mouthful of cheese, and Merlin thinks damn because that's another thing about this body he never stopped to consider.
"As illuminating as this has been, I have work to do"
"Have one of the stable boys muck out today" Arthur says, obviously fighting a blush. "It's not, you know, women's work"
"Thank you sire" Merlin says, and he can't help but note the way Arthur has his head bent but peers through his eyelashes. The silence stretches but it isn't uncomfortable until-
"MERLIN!" Merlin nearly falls over as the voice roars in his head. He's never quite prepared for the dragon's voice, so loud it's almost painful, and his eyes are watering as he moves towards the door.
Arthur's head hits the table the second Merlin is out of earshot.
The dragon is shaking with laughter, long and loud and Merlin wonders how the whole damn castle haven't arrived yet demanding to know about the noise. Every single one of his hundreds of razor sharp teeth glint in the torchlight and Merlin feels very small indeed.
"Any chance you know how to fix it?" He asks, not at all certain he wants to know the answer. The dragon leans in closely, one huge golden eye staring intensely at Merlin.
"The enchantment cannot be undone-" Merlin interrupts with a cry of despair and the dragon gives him the kind of look that suggests a swift death if he doesn't close his mouth right this instant.
"-by any magic you know" He finishes and Merlin hiccups and looks politely confused.
"It is very powerful, not easily reversed. Only the one who placed the enchantment has the power to undo it again" He watches stoically as Merlin lets out a long groan of unhappiness.
"I don't suppose you'd have any idea why anyone would want me like this?" He asks, indicating to his very feminine body and raising an eyebrow. The dragon gives the closest thing he has to a smile.
"As I have told you before young warlock, there is much written about you that you have yet to read" Merlin gets the feeling he's missing something important in this exchange, but he isn't sure, and the dragon has never exactly been forthcoming about these things.
Arthur calls for a bath that night and much to Merlin's surprise enlists two of the kitchen hands to bring the water to his rooms. It is of course stone cold, but Merlin remedies that quickly enough, even whilst forcing himself to use the traditional method rather than magic.
"Merlin what are you doing?" Arthur asks, though it is perfectly obvious Merlin is laying out his towels and the soft woolen leggings Arthur favours sleeping in.
"Attending to my duties, sire. Or would you prefer I let you do everything yourself?" He does nothing to mask the tired irritation in his voice. Arthur looks stunned for a long moment and then shrugs his shirt off, throwing it at Merlin with a cocky grin. The smell of musk fills Merlin's head for a moment as he fails to catch the shirt and has it land upon his face instead before he manages to claw it away, holding it at arms length.
He supposes he should be pleased that Arthur still sees him underneath the feminine curves and breasts and higher voice. Enough to throw clothing at him anyway, but Arthur has never really been too considerate of anyone when it comes to his dirty laundry.
"You can go now" Arthur says and Merlin freezes in confusion because usually he'd be required to assist Arthur bathe, along with helping him dress once he's finished. It seems to Merlin the nobles make the bathing ritual fairly complicated with all the soaps and powders and oils and Arthur never keeps still long enough to have any of them applied properly, but he always smells much better by the end, which is probably what counts anyway.
"Good night sire" He mumbles, and Arthur is already sliding into the bath and making noises of absolute bliss as the hot water soothes his aching muscles. His eyes flicker closed, head lolling against the edge of the tub, wet toes peeking at the other side.
"Oh, and be sure to have my things packed, I ride at noon tomorrow" He says, as if picking up a half-finished conversation from moments earlier.
"Ride where?" Merlin asks foolishly, knowing he is to go with precious little sleep if both their bags are to be packed tonight.
"To hunt the witch Merlin" Arthur says, exasperated, and his eyes are open now, impossibly bright in the candle lit chamber. "You will stay here" His tone is firm and final, but it isn't the usual gruff order that Merlin ignores with barely a second thought. There is something different about it, something that suggests Arthur does this only to keep Merlin safe, protected.
"Yes my lord" Merlin says quietly and suddenly Arthur extends a hand towards him, wet and warm and says "Promise me you won't follow?" And there's really no other choice.
"I promise" He curls his fingers around Arthur's, and they hold for a moment, before the warmth of Arthur's hand slips away and Merlin feels like part of himself has gone missing, like the brief touch was everything in the world and his chest is too small to possibly contain the beating of his heart.
But the moment is gone, and Arthur has leant back in his bath, contented smile playing at his lips. Merlin lets himself out silently and slips away to his room.
Rain is beating at the windows when Merlin wakes the next morning, the sky grey and foreboding, and even as he saddles Arthur's horse it shows no signs of relenting.
Arthur spares Merlin a moment in the stables before he rides, skin already damp after walking from the castle, and Merlin's hair curls in the rain, a frizzy dark halo around his too-pale face.
"Just look after yourself okay?" He asks, and Merlin nods, tries not to sink into the awkward half-hug Arthur gives before he strides out of the stables. Lightning cracks across the sky.
So Arthur rides out in the rain, cold and wet and proud, back straight and head held high, fringe plastered against his forehead and stuck in his eyes. The rain abates briefly, but as Arthur reaches the crest of the first hill and something twinges in Merlin's chest, it pours down again, harder than before.
Gaius is not impressed when Merlin appears, sodden and miserable several hours later. He doesn't tell and Gaius doesn't ask, but he can tell by the look on the old man's face he has no secrets here. If he watched Arthur and his knights ride away until they were nothing but tiny red smudges against the grey horizon, and for another hour beyond that, then Gaius knows, and kindly says nothing.
Because really, Merlin could do without the lecture today. He doesn't feel sorry for himself too often, as long as he has food to fill his belly and a blanket to sleep under he's happy, but this is different, and it hasn't just been since he was enchanted. It's been much, much longer than that, perhaps from the first moment he laid eyes on Arthur, and it's harder and harder to ignore.
He doesn't think Arthur even knows. He's so wrapped up in Guinevere, pulled into her orbit like most men who meet her, as if she has some invisible, inexplicable pull. She consistently turns Arthur away, and Merlin isn't certain if it's because she knows he can never be allowed to love her as she needs, or if she simply loves another more. Gwen has always had an open heart, but when it comes to Arthur she's a mystery wrapped in an enigma.
But Merlin isn't jealous of her, no. He catches her sometimes, at a feast or during a tourney, with the sad smile on her face and as their eyes meet she'll cast him a look that says you too huh? And he's never understood quite why.
He sleeps away the first few days of Arthur's absence, and Gaius tells everyone he is ill, which isn't a lie, not really. Eventually the terrible heartsickness fades and he finds he can do his chores and and joke with Gwen and Morgana and help Gaius grind herbs, and get through a whole day without thinking of Arthur. He has pushed aside the notion that he might love the prince, it sounds far too much like something a traveling minstrel might sing about and Merlin would rather not be the subject of one of those bawdy songs.
The rain still pours steadily and Morgana sighs as she gazes out the window at the dreary scene outside.
"Will this rain ever end?" She says unhappily and Merlin looks up from the tangle of thread in his hands to give her a fleeting look of sympathy. Morgana does not enjoy being trapped inside, likes needlework even less, which is probably why Gwen is quietly stitching for her, a great swirling mess of blues and reds that doesn't look quite like anything to Merlin.
"Shall I help you with that?" Gwen asks Merlin and he's grateful as she slowly winds the thread off his fingers and back onto the spool, because needlework is just one more thing he has no talent for.
"Arthur returns soon" Morgana's voice is low and pitches and she's staring blindly out the window, chin resting on one hand and Merlin realises she's daydreaming. With Morgana a dream is never just a dream.
"A week from tomorrow-" Her brow wrinkles, eyes focusing and turning to face Merlin "-Oh!" And she smiles.
"Be sure to have a bath ready for his return" She says, all-knowing and Merlin is glad her dreams have not been so terrible lately. "And wear the lavender, he likes that one" All Merlin can do is gape at her.
"Are you actually?" His voice is incredulous and she laughs, "Yes Merlin, I am actually" and shoos him from her chambers.
Outside the rain suddenly turns to snow.