"Ha."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means, ha. You don't need me. You'll have a wedding, and a wife, and a ... family."
"Of course I need you!"
"Not the way I want," said Merlin, and there it was, this thing they had been ignoring for years, this stupid argument that neither could win.
Arthur took a breath. Merlin's eyes flared, but instead of magical gold, they were only blue, swirling with patterns of reflected sea and sky. "I know," Arthur said.
They gazed at each other, frozen, caught in the clench of things unsaid.
Arthur whetted his lips. Words stumbled on his tongue.
Hen's teeth, this stuff was awkward. Not as awkward as the first moment Arthur had caught himself, watching Merlin's hands on the wine jug. The slender fingers, the dark hair on Merlin's wrist - the sight of it had struck Arthur like a blow, like a kick in the gut. At first he was horrified: this would basically ruin his whole life, as well as condemning him in the next life - but as months passed, and then years, he knew that this thing, this urge, was only a part of him, not the whole. He was still a prince - and then a king - and still a warrior, a leader of men, a councillor and a comrade. That he stood watching as his sorcerer soothed an injured horse with words and touches, or crumbled sacred petals into an offering bowl... It did not diminish him.
"What would you do, if not marry?" Merlin asked.
"What Gaius did," said Arthur.
"What?"
"You're his heir," Arthur said. "You're not his son, but you were his apprentice, he chose you to carry on his work. That's what I'll do. Choose some promising youngster - or two - adopt them, bring them up as my heirs."
"That's a very risky strategy. The Round Table -"
"The Round Table will be so relieved I've done something about succession that they'll probably throw a massive feast."
"Huh."
"You should do the same," Arthur said. "Name an heir. Who's your apprentice?"
"Nobody," said Merlin in surprise.
"Well, that's got to change. What about the druids, they're bound to have sorcerer children, pick one of them."
"They're not apples," said Merlin.
"You know what I mean."
"But Gaius -"
Arthur stepped forward and drew his arms around Merlin's shoulders. "What must happen, must happen," he said. He pulled Merlin to him, for comfort, Merlin resisting a little and then collapsing, his chin against Arthur's ear, his breath a muddle of sobs and gasps.
Arthur bashed Merlin on the back a few times. "Get a grip," he muttered, but in fact this was all right: the embrace, the closeness, it was not as strange as he'd imagined. Merlin shivered once, recovering, and lay one hand deliberately on the back of Arthur's neck... That was all right too.
"No offering for the tide today," said Merlin, drawing away.
"Nope. Doesn't look like it."
They began squelching back inland. Soon their boots met frost, the season's defiance of the sun.
"Midwinter," said Arthur."Time to think about spring. The worst of the darkness has passed," he added, in case Merlin had not yet fully grasped it.
"I know what day it is," said Merlin.
He whistled and his black horse cantered up. Arthur's had vanished, spooked by the flood. "Will you take us both?" said Merlin. The horse tilted its neck for Merlin's caress. "He will," said Merlin to Arthur.
"I'll obviously ride in front," said Arthur.
"It's my horse."
"It's the second best horse in the stable!"
"Don't let him hear you say that. I'll go in front."
"So undignified."
"Yeah, not like having to be rescued because you stood there quizzing me while a massive wave rolled in."
Merlin rode in front. The horse walked on, adjusting to the extra weight.
Merlin, the reins loose in his left hand, reached around with his right and found Arthur's glove. Without asking permission, he drew off the glove and placed Arthur's hand on his leg.
Arthur said nothing, just sat there, wary.
"You started it," said Merlin.
"No, you did, with your ..."
"My-?"
"Self."
Merlin laughed.
"Shut up."
"There's snow on the way," said Merlin, nodding at the eastern sky. "Better get home."
"When people see us arriving like this -"
"The old religion does not forbid it."
"The new one does and I have to please both. Oh, god."
"A king can please himself."
"I'm not sure that's true."
They rode. Around them, the world shrugged off its pallor as the sun climbed. Colour showed among the birches, a faint purple on each twig, the promise of spring.
Arthur turned back to see the ocean. The water glinted, its milky surface shimmering into steady blue. The colour of Merlin's eyes, thought Arthur, and grimaced at that sentimental thought.
"What?" asked Merlin.
"Nothing. Tide's coming in. The ordinary tide." He squinted twisting his neck round. "Just slowly, but you can see the change of colour in the shoreline. It's very gradual."
Merlin did not look, but he smiled, and gripped Arthur's knee. "Yes, it is."
They rode on, their cloaks bright in the morning air.