.iv
*
It is in the Autumn of the 46th year of King Uther's rule that the annual harvest breaks all precedent records. There are talks of engaging in the highly profitable winter trade which has, in past years, been impossible due to low yields. The King has declared a celebration in the last week of the season in order to celebrate the blessings bestowed upon Camelot, being the only Kingdom to have successfully purged magic from its soil.
– Extract from the Annals of Camelot, G. O. Monmouth.
*
Arthur and his knights arrived back in Camelot only when the midday sun was already high, tiny pools of shadow beneath the horses' hooves. Edwin had not been found, and although more guards had been dispatched, Arthur didn't have too much faith in the search. If his Father's history of searches had taught him nothing, it was that if the sorcerer really want to hide, he wouldn't be found. And Edwin had disappeared into thin air.
The clatter of hooves echoed around the busy castle courtyard, and Arthur dismounted at the castle steps where a very out of breath stable boy, George?, took the reins of his mare. Arthur raised one eyebrow.
"Where's Merlin?"
"Nobody has seen him this morning, sire," said the boy between breaths - he had obviously come running when he saw the knight's return. "But there's a horse gone missing from the stables, sire, someone had broken into them last night and stolen the grey stallion that was the gift from King of-"
Arthur raised a hand, and the boy fell silent immediately. The first tendrils of dread tugged at his heart.
"A horse was stolen. Do you know when this happened? What of the guards?"
"The guards say they didn't' see or hear anything out of the norm, sire," answered the boy, wringing his hands anxiously.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, my lord," said the stable boy, eyes wide.
Arthur turned and ran into the castle. He burst into Gaius' rooms a moment later (unlocked) crossed threshold to Merlin's room. Hand on the doorknob, he pushed cautiously. It swung open without resistance.
It was empty.
Taking a step into the room, Arthur took in the unmade bed that looked like it was not slept in last night, the full pitcher of water still on the nightstand and a shattered cup, shards half hidden beneath the bed – a sign of struggle or Merlin's famed clumsiness? Merlin's coat was not on the chair, nor were there any notes or letters on the table.
There was the sound of footsteps behind him and Arthur swung around, sword making a ishing!/i sound as he drew it from his scabbard so fast, the person screamed.
It was Morgana.
"Good god, Arthur!" she exclaimed, furious, "You nearly took my head off!"
"Morgana?" said Arthur, sheathing his sword, "What are you doing here?"
"Looking for Gaius," she said, obviously lying,
"He's left Camelot, as you well know because I know Gwen must have told you last night. But the King's sent a messenger after him, so he should return soon. But that's not important right now, Morgana. Have you seen Merlin at all?"
"Wasn't he with you?"
Arthur's heart sank.
"No…"
"He's not here," said Morgana, eyes dark and eerily faraway, "is he?"
"No," said Arthur, shortly. Then, "Someone's stolen a horse."
"You think iMerlin/i stole a horse?" asked Morgana in a tone that clearly said she thought Arthur was being obtuse.
"Yes! No!" Arthur thumped the wall in exasperation. "How should I know?"
"Perhaps he went after Gaius…?" suggested Morgana.
"Perhaps," conceded Arthur reluctantly. The possibility hadn't even crossed his mind: he had simply assumed that Merlin would stay in Camelot with him, no matter where Gaius went. He didn't want to examine that thought too closely right now. Right now, there were more urgent matters because something iwasn't right./i
"We haven't caught Edwin yet," he said. There was no reaction from Morgana whatsoever. "Morgana?"
"I think you need to go after Edwin," she said, voice flat.
Arthur frowned at her, "I just got back from going after Edwin. I'm going ride out with more Knights in a few hours, Morgana what's the matter?"
She looked up, expression fierce and hair wild. It was only then that Arthur noticed the dark shadows under her eyes and purple eyelids.
"God, you look terrible," he said.
"Edwin has Merlin," said Morgana, as if he had not spoken.
Arthur's entire being went cold in an instant.
"What?"
"Edwin has Merlin, Arthur, he's going to die if you don't-"
"How do you know this?" he demanded, and Morgana fell silent, eyes guarded like a cornered animal. After several moments of silence, Arthur reached to shake her shoulder with his hands but she flinched away from him.
"…Just a feeling," she said at last, not meeting his eyes.
"A feeling- you have to give me better than-"
"Well I can't," she said with her classic Morgana stubbornness, "Listen to me or don't, but Merlin's life is in danger right now and if you don't find him soon he is going to idie./i" She was breathing harshly at this point, nose flared in anger and frustration.
"Where is he?"
"Walls made of stone…A church, I think. Old, there's candles and Edwin, holding a knife."
"Right," said Arthur slowly.
"You need to believe me-"
"I believe you. I believe you, Morgana," said Arthur quickly and she gave him a tight smile at last, the tense line in her shoulders lessening somewhat. Then without another word, she turned to the door.
"What did you want Gaius for, anyway?" he asked, suddenly remembering why she was here. But Morgana was already gone.
*
When Merlin woke, surfacing up to the forefront of his mind and eyes, it was still dark and he was upon a horse, hands lashed to the saddle in front of him. His mouth was gagged and his head still felt woozy, the rocking motion of a cantering horse not helping in the least. For a moment, he had no idea where he was. Then, as if sensing his captive was awake, the person behind him pulled on the reins and the horse came to a stop.
Everything came rushing back with sick clarity and Merlin tensed, trying to tug free of the rope around his wrists. A hand threaded itself through his hair and the fingers curled, pulled his head backwards by the roots so that his neck was exposed to the cold night air. His gag loosened itself at a whispered word, and slipped down his chin to his neck. Merlin coughed.
"Open up," said Edwin from behind, holding another bottle of potion up to Merlin's tightly pressed lips. Merlin kept his teeth clenched. There was a itsk tsk/i sound and then a gloved hand was brought over his face. Merlin struggled for air, twisting and turning in the saddle, making the horse paw the ground with a nervous whinny.
"You'll learn not to fight the inevitable," said Edwin when, starved for oxygen, Merlin opened his mouth to gulp air and Edwin forced the bottle's contents down his throat. As the drug's effects took hold, Merlin could feel Edwin's hand leaving his hair, instead to fist itself firmly in the feathers of Merlin's left wing. Then he sank back down into oblivion.
*
Arthur left with four knights; Leon, Garrett, Percival and Caradoc.
Despite what the people thought, despite what his Father thought, Arthur didn't know how to hunt down a sorcerer. They had imagic/i for heaven's sake, and he did not believe that a true master of such arts would be killed by a blade. His blade wouldn't even come near. But admitting this meant that admitting he could do nothing – and doing nothing was something Arthur hated doing.
Even though he did not completely trust Morgana's descriptions or believe them to be true, their consequences were too dire for him to even ithink/i about ignoring. Merlin had been absent from his side for barely half a day and already Arthur missed his bumbling, grinning, insubordinate presence like an ache in his heart. It tugged him onwards like a siren call, his own will covering the faint thrum of desperation; iMerlin, Merlin, Merlin./i
If he didn't know better, Arthur would have called it magic.
They rode quickly at a gallop through the higher and lower city until the reached the little towns that began spreading from the base of Camelot castle's shadows, into the wilder and wilder country. They searched methodically, every inn, every passersby who could have seen anything ("A man, scars on his face, perhaps wearing a low hood?" and "A boy, skinny, pale, an idiot.").
There was no sign of them.
Arthur did not want to stop and rest – Merlin could be dying- but there was no point in running the men so ragged that they slipped up or worse…walked into a trap. They stopped, six hours after sundown and camped out under the sky rather than find an inn. That night, Arthur dreamt of Merlin lying as still as Morgana had – Edwin's scarred hand hovering over his face, chanting in a language Arthur couldn't understand until he had drained all the life from Merlin's body.
*
The messenger returned with Gaius, newly reinstated Court Physician that very day. Apparently he had not travelled far, having stopped at an inn just on the border of the lower town.
"That Boy," said Uther, finally. "Saved my life by administering to me one of your tinctures. Tell me Gaius, why did you not give that potion to Morgana?"
"The tincture," said Gaius, slowly, "was something I was developing. I did not want to risk it, as it had not been perfected. I wasn't sure if-"
"Did you know that Muirden was a sorcerer?" asked the King, turning towards one of the windows overlooking the courtyard.
"I…suspected, sire."
"And I was not informed of this, because…?"
"With all due respect, you thought Edwin had just saved the life of your ward. I feared that my accusations would have been…ill received."
Uther did not reply, simply stared out the window, hands folded behind his back. The late afternoon sunshine streamed into the room, throwing the King's long shadowed silhouette on the floor like ink. Then, seemingly out of nowhere he said;
"What do you know of angels, Gaius?"
Perhaps it was fortunate that Uther was not facing him or he would have seen the surprise and guilt flash across the old man's face. As it were, Gaius composed his voice.
"Only as much as lore, sire," he said, "Some say they are of the Old Religion, some say the New and some say not at all and they are a being onto themselves. Some lore describes that individual angels are responsible for different things in the mortal realm, but almost all say that they are benevolent."
"Are they sorcerers?" asked the King, as if that point alone was the pivotal shift on which the world revolved. And perhaps in his world, it was.
Gaius paused, and when he spoke, he chose his words carefully.
"They possess an essence that we do not, often called their igrace./i Others believe they are beings of pure magic. But no, angels are not sorcerers."
"Providing that they exist, of course."
"Yes, sire."
Another long silence, a gulf between the King and the reasons of the world.
"The Lady Helen," said Uther, and Gaius looked surprised at the random name, "She was using magic to disguise herself as the singer, was she not?"
"I believe so, sire…" agreed Gaius cautiously.
"Such magic of lies," Uther waved a hand carelessly, "Illusions, masks…is there a method to see through them?"
Gaius nodded.
"A mirror is a most reliable tool, your highness. Most illusions are revealed in the reflections as they only show the truth."
The King smiled.
"Excellent."
*
Merlin had no idea how much time had passed. The only light was the light of a flickering candle – expensive wax- and the smell of damp and rock and herbs. The ropes were gone from his wrists – instead they were chained together with heavy manacles, burning cold against his raw skin. He felt light headed, from the drugs or lack of food and water, Merlin couldn't tell. He was lying sideways on a dirty stone floor, and when he shifted, he discovered his wings had been lashed together with rope so that he could not extend them at all. From his position on the floor, he could only see shadows an darkness…perhaps the outline of…steps? And a table was visible in sight. His wings were cramped. He made a pathetic sound through his gag.
"Ah. You're awake."
Edwin's voice came from somewhere in the darkness, and Merlin jerked backwards instinctively, trying to see where his kidnapper was. His magic was still hazy and out of his grasp, and Merlin thought perhaps the effects of the potion had not quite worn off yet. He tugged at his manacles, trying to see if he could slip a hand through. Arthur had said once that a knight should first break his thumb which then allowed him to escape his bindings – but the thought of snapping his own fingers made Merlin feel ill. He didn't know whether if he could do it.
As if reading his thoughts, Edwin said, "Don't bother getting out of those. Your magic won't work against pure silver and iron."
Merlin told him to sod off. It came out muffled and Edwin laughed, the sound raising goose-bumps on Merlin's neck. Footsteps. Then the hem of a cloak before Edwin was crouching down next to him, reaching for his face. Merlin flinched backwards, trying to dodge the hand but he had nowhere to go. The hand reached towards the back of his head and pulled the gag loose from Merlin's mouth, whilst the other held a skin of water to his lips.
Merlin refused it, turning his head sideways.
"Don't be foolish, you'll die of thirst."
Merlin glared at him. "Not if you kill me first."
Edwin laughed again, tucking the skin away in his cloak and patting Merlin's hair condescendingly.
"All in good time, my little protégé."
Then he straightened and disappeared from Merlin's view again.
"You're really very careless, Merlin," continued Edwin's voice, "Walking around with those wings barely hidden. Why do you think I spent a fortune on a mirror, hmm? They were perfectly visible."
Merlin did not reply, mind numb with shock and fear.
"Imagine my surprise when I came back into my rooms and found an iangel/i rooting through my papers. Who are you here for, little angel?"
"I'm not an angel," said Merlin, voice hoarse and dry. He coughed and swallowed, trying to get moisture back into his mouth. He regretted refusing the water now, even though it was most likely drugged.
"Is that what Gaius told you? Because he's wrong."
"Please, let me go hom-"
"To Camelot?" spat Edwin, and there was the sound of footsteps again, "You would be bound to Camelot?"
"I tell you, I'm not a bloody-mmmphh."
But Edwin had reappeared and stuffed the gag back into his mouth. Still crouching, he rolled Merlin onto his front, hands crushed beneath his torso uncomfortably. His fingers were carding through Merlin's down feathers in a way that made Merlin want to vomit into the flag stones. Then the fingers stilled and there was a sudden jerk of pain which made Merlin cry out into his gag.
"The Dark Moon is tomorrow."
When he was allowed to roll back onto his side, eyes watering, he saw a fistful of long, white feathers in Edwin's hand.
*
A week after his eighth birthday, Will decided to go camping in the woods. Merlin thought it was a terrible idea.
"It could be dangerous!" he protested, lugging on his pack.
Will looked thoughtful at this, then his face brightened in a manic grin. Merlin looked at him suspiciously.
"We could meet bears!" said Will, voice hopeful. Merlin groaned, slapping a palm to his face in exasperation.
They didn't meet bears. They met hunters. Or rather, Will met the hunters and almost met the unfriendly end of a spear.
"Will?!" screamed Merlin, hearing the shouts and bark of dogs but not able to pinpoint the direction from which they were coming in the thick foliage. He ran blindly, and by sheer luck found Will in a clearing, a snapped spear inches away from his face, embedded in the tree next to his head.
"What the fuck?" Will was yelling, demonstrating his talent for being loud and crass and incredulous at the same time.
It turned out that, mistakening him for an animal, the hunters had launched a spear which in all rights should have sliced Will's stupid head in half. But missed him.
"We," said Merlin afterwards, furiously tugging Will back to the village, "are never going camping again."
When Will was twelve, and Merlin was eleven, Ealdor had the coldest winter in eight decades, and the river had frozen over with a layer of sparkling smooth ice and all the mothers forbid their children to go on it. Ice broke, they said, and people drowned from the cold and no one ever found their bodies.
Will and Merlin sneaked out after noon, when Hunith was busy with preparing dinner
Within minutes of being on the ice, it gave an ominous cracking sound underneath Will's boots and he gave Merlin (who was sensible and stayed on the bank) a hilarious look before yelling,
"Run!" and sprinted the width of the river towards Merlin's side of the bank. Behind him, his chunk of ice cracked completely and with a ripping, cracking noise fell into the cold rushing river below. Will was staring at it, wide eyed.
"Well, that was a bit of luck, wasn't it?" he said, hair askew and the necklace Merlin gave him gleaming in the sun.
*
It had been two days until Arthur and his men found a witness. It was the barmaid of the last inn on the outskirts of a fairly large village, auburn hair tied up in a bun. She fluttered her eyelashes at Arthur, who usually liked entertaining the affections of any pretty girl but was not in the mood for it tonight.
"Why, I ithink/i I remember. Had a terribly scarred face he did, asked for the meals in his room, rude as anything!"
"Did he have a companion, a young boy perhaps?" pressed Arthur.
"Well, I don't know…I was terribly busy that night and I can't quite remember…"
Arthur sighed and passed her a small pouch of silver, and she smirked at him, all painted lips and pressing curves.
"A pale boy, quite. Skinny. He looked ill, he did, barely standing up on his own two feet."
"Any idea where they went after they left?" asked Arthur.
"Continued south, I think. Didn't see them go though, left at an ungodly hour."
Arthur inclined his head. "Thank you. If we find them, you will be rewarded handsomely."
"What did they do then?" she asked, curious, "Did they off' someone?"
Arthur and Leon left the inn.
"We need to ride out immediately. Perhaps we can find them before morning," said Arthur when they had all gathered back together. His knights looked at each other and said nothing. Arthur raised his eyebrows.
"Is there a problem?"
"It's just…sire, we have perhaps two hours until midnight," said Caradoc, "The roads are dangerous. Shouldn't we stop here and continue at first light?" The others said nothing, but it was clear from their expressions that they agreed with Caradoc. Arthur scowled.
"Let me decide what we should and shouldn't do," snapped Arthur, pulling up his reins. Without a word, he turned his steed towards the south. The knights followed.
He ishould/i stop, it was dangerous out on these roads at night, but with Merlin so close, Arthur found it hard to halt for anything. Over the last few hours, the desperation thrumming through his blood grew almost to fever pitch, urging Arthur on, on, on, turning his hands when they came to a fork in the road and turning his heart inside out.
*
"I'm not interested in gold," Edwin was saying. Merlin screwed his eyes shut. "Foolish sorcerers before me have died trying to create this. What they don't realise is that there iis/i no spell that can create the water of eternal life. The laws of the old religion do not allow it, and every being in this realm is tied to those laws."
The glinting silver knife made a deep, tidy cut in Merlin's arm. Merlin bit his gag, trying not to make a sound. He could feel blood welling up from the cut, and the cold press of a vial as it was collected. Edwin continued talking.
"Well. Except you."
Merlin opened his eyes, staring at the stone ceiling of wherever they were. He was lying on his back on a table of sorts, strapped down with leather buckles, his hands still manacled in front of him, his wings half crushed beneath him. He could see Edwin's face clearly as he smiled; a little mad.
"To save a life, a life must be given – the universe needs to retain that balance. Did you know that the last great sorcerer who wanted to create the water of eternal life destroyed an entire city? Killed every single person in there, in trade for a life of immortality."
Merlin's eyes tracked Edwin's hands with his eyes, trying to shy away when he saw that the man was holding the knife again, jerking against the straps. Edwin ignored his struggles and made another precise cut on his arm.
"It didn't work," said Edwin casually, "Seven hundred souls were not enough to pay the price of eternal life, and the sorcerer himself died for his experiments. But he didn't know what I know. You see, Merlin, not every soul is worth the same to the universe; you can stop some fates and not others. Snap destiny, even. But to bargain immortality…only the soul of an angel will suffice."
*
On the third day, they caught up with Edwin.
The little stone church stood abandoned in the middle of nowhere, and around it the trees were grey and knuckled, leaves dry and bleached of colour. The only people to be seen were Arthur and his men, red cloaks swirling around their ankles when they dismounted at a distance on the dusty road.
The horses didn't want to go any further, tossing their heads and whinnying in protest. Even Arthur's mare, which he had trained himself and rode since he was eleven, refused his usual signals. Wind blew dust into their eyes as Arthur dismounted, examining the faint day old tracks in the road ahead. A single rider.
"Garrett," said Arthur, "You stay here with the horses and keep a look out. We need to search that."
As one, they drew their swords from their scabbards, Caradoc hefting a crossbow over his shoulder and falling back behind Arthur and Leon. When they were about fifty yards from the church entrance: a tumble down wooden door that had been boarded over, Arthur silently signalled to Leon and Percival.
Quickly, Arthur concluded there was no way into the church without blasting open one of the side doors. He ran a gloved hand down the gap between the rotted wood and the stone. Then on the count of three, he took a few steps back and ran the door, the triangular point of his shoulder colliding with the wood and it cracked on impact, falling inwards with a wet ithumpcrash/i and a billow of dust and cobwebs. Arthur entered the church, sword drawn. It was shadowed and dark in the small corridor that led to the main hall of the church, where Arthur could see the faint flickering warmth of candle light and a voice, muffled by echoing and something else- a hissing.
"Sleep, now."
Keeping to the shadows, he gave his surroundings a cursory glance before moving forwards and methodically checking the alcoves before turning the corner of a large stone pillar. Arthur froze.
Just ahead, at the church's altar, was Edwin, brandishing a long gleaming knife, voice chanting in a foreign tongue. There were bottles of dark red liquid beside his arm and white feathers everywhere and iMerlin/i who was tied to the altar, unmoving. Without hesitation, Arthur took the three steps separating him and Edwin and ran the sorcerer through in one fluid motion.
*
"It won't hurt," said Edwin, smoothing back the hair from his brow, "I promise. It will just take a moment."
Tears streaked down Merlin's face, mostly from sheer panic and fear as he sobbed into his gag and gods ihe didn't want to die./i His pleas were muffled by the cloth in his mouth, but he tried anyway, struggling against the iron and silver at his wrists, his magic crackling just beneath his skin desperately until Edwin whispered,
"Sleep. Sleep, now."
Merlin's consciousness blinked out.
*
Arthur knew without looking that Edwin was dead.
He ran towards the altar.
"MERLIN!" he shouted, unable to keep the note of desperation from his voice, "Gods. Merlin? Merlin."
He was laying limp and unmoving, eyes shut and breathing even. Taking his sword, Arthur quickly cut through the bonds as his three knights also burst into the church, having heard his shouts.
"Merlin. Merlin, wake up," said Arthur, checking him quickly for any wounds and was relieved to find none except two cuts leaking blood on his arm and a lump at the back of his head. He slapped Merlin's cheek, which caused colour to blossom on the pale skin like a blush and Arthur thought, detached, that it was quite beautiful, before pulling himself forcibly back to the present with Merlin did not so much as twitch a muscle.
"Merlin!"
"Sire, here," said Leon, appearing at his shoulder and passing Arthur a skin of water. Arthur uncapped it, supporting Merlin's head as he dribbled some of the clear liquid into his parted lips. His throat worked, but Merlin remained unconscious.
"We don't know what the sorcerer has done to him," said Leon, "We might not be able to wake him."
"We need to get him back to Camelot immediately," said Arthur, pulling Merlin's prone form into his arms and hoisting him off the alter.
"God. You are polishing every single pair of boots I own when we get back," said Arthur into Merlin's hair, "You weigh a lot for a waif."
"N'polishin'boots," mumbled Merlin and Arthur nearly dropped him.
"Merlin! Are you alright? Did he hurt you?"
"Stop yelling…" said Merlin plaintively, trying to wiggle out of Arthur's arms. It resulted in both of them on the ground, Arthur half on his knees. His breeches would be ruined.
He found he didn't much care. The sight of Merlin, still as death on the altar, was seared into his retinas.
"You," he said, anger, worry, fear and relief all crashing down upon his shoulders at once, "Will never do this again, you hear?" He shook Merlin's thin shoulders, his voice cracking but now that he could iseetouchfeel/i Merlin, he couldn't' stop: "It took us three days to find you! Three days and Morgana was raving about how you were going to be idead./i I should bloody well sack you for being so incompetent as to get ikidnapped/i you useless, terrible-"
They knelt there on the damp stone floor of a fallen down church, Arthur's arms wrapped tight around Merlin's scrawny frame. No one ever mentioned it, least of all Arthur, who thought he must have delirious with exhaustion as his fingers felt something strangely soft at Merlin's back, and said nothing at all.
*
iOne week later:/i
"What are you doing out here?"
Arthur didn't turn from where he was staring out over the city. He could see Merlin and his neckerchief –blue, today- approach in his peripheral vision. The nights were getting colder as the end of Autumn drew nearer, and Arthur liked to come here and watch as the town transformed into a map of soft, golden glows. It was like looking at stars.
"Arthur?"
"What, Merlin?" said Arthur, still without looking at him.
"Why have you been avoiding me?" asked Merlin.
Arthur wanted to protest that Crown Princes of Camelot did not avoid anyone because they went where they pleased. If Merlin found his presence lacking, it was surely because Arthur did not wish to grace him with his esteemed company. Then he sighed and said,
"Because you are a pain in the backside. I retreated up here for some peace and quiet."
There was a pause.
"You're missing your dinner. It's quail. You like quail."
"I know it's quail because I can smell it on you. Have you been stealing my food again?"
"Your fault you disappeared," said Merlin, unabashed.
Arthur snorted. "Hark who's talking."
The silence stretched between them, tense and colder than the night wind which had begun to blow. The sliver of moonlight made Merlin's skin shine and he looked ethereal to Arthur. Otherworldly. He wanted to take his words back because it wasn't really as if Merlin ileft/i but that wasn't what bothered the prince. It was the truths that had been unearthed when Merlin vanished, truths Arthur had been burying under banter and station and duty which had all been thrown out the window the moment he saw Merlin on that alter with a knife to his chest.
"Arthur…" Merlin began, but Arthur cut him off.
"I have something for you," he said, gruffly, reaching into his pocket and drawing out a gold ring on a chain. It swayed from his fingers like a pendulum, hypnotising. "Here."
Merlin took the ring, hesitant, eyes trained on Arthur's face.
"Arthur, this is expens-"
"It is the royal seal," interrupted Arthur, wanting to say iyou're worth more, you're worth more than anything only if you're safe./i "If you wear it always, it might help keep you out of trouble. God knows you need it. People will recognise that seal and know to whom you belong."
"Are you sure…?"
"You belong to my household, Merlin. I never wear that ring anyway."
"Really," said Merlin, expression sceptical.
It was getting harder and harder for Arthur to maintain enough resolution to stand still and not give in to his urge to turn and run.
"Just wear the bloody thing before I take it back. And don't you lose it either."
Merlin studied his face for another long moment before finally looping the chain over his head, a small smile curving the corner of his mouth upwards. The chain gleamed against pale skin as Merlin tucked the ring underneath his neckerchief. They were standing close enough to-
"Thanks, Arthur."
*
[A/N] All the parts should be posted up-to-date by this weekend. hopefully.