I realized I've been giving you a lot of Merlin worrying over Arthur, so have some of the flip side.

Merlin had been gone for two days—gone without a word, without so much as a note. It wasn't like him to up and leave like that. In fact, Arthur realized, it wasn't like Merlin to voluntarily leave Camelot at all if Arthur wasn't with him. Where Arthur went, Merlin went, and on the rare occasion Merlin was left or fell behind, he hurried after Arthur as fast as his legs or horse could carry him.

"It's not like him, Gaius," Arthur said, pacing about the room. "And he didn't say anything to you?"

"No, nothing at all," Gaius said. "I hate to raise alarm, but I should think it's time we sent someone out."

Guinevere entered the room just in time to hear the tail end of Gaius's statement. "Oh no." She bit her lip. "Oh, I knew I should have said something."

Arthur pivoted. "You know where Merlin is?"

Gwen nodded. "I'm sorry, but he asked me not to tell, and I thought—well, but if you're really that worried…"

"Spit it out."

"He's gone to visit someone," Gwen began.

Let it be stated that Arthur, by nature, was not a jealous person. He'd never had real occasion to be. If he wanted something, he got it, and he could rest well knowing that nobody would be stupid enough to take it from him. If it was a matter of someone being a better swordsman or something of that sort, well, Uther had trained all self-pity out of him by the age of ten. If he wanted to be the best arm-wrestler in the country or what have you, he put his mind to it and he subsequently reached his goal. In matters of fickle emotions, again, he had never had cause to be envious of someone else. He'd never deeply cared for anyone other than Morgana and Uther, and he'd never had to fear the loss of their affection (Uther didn't give out much anyway), and when Merlin came along his devotion was so absolute that Arthur knew anyone trying to steal Merlin away would actually have more to worry about from Merlin himself than Arthur.

But now, unexpectedly, jealousy raged hot and bubbling in his veins. Unaccustomed to it as he was, Arthur was completely floored. Vanishing without a word, making Arthur worry sick about him, and he was visiting someone? Red tinged the edges of his vision and his stomach churned, his blood singing at him to act, to fight, to kill.

"…he's gone to see Hunith, actually," Gwen finished up.

The jealousy vanished, blown away like smoke, but it left behind a bitter aftertaste. "Hunith?"

Gwen nodded. "Yes. I'm so sorry to have let you worry like this. I should have told you sooner."

Arthur frowned. He was glad to know that Merlin was safe and sound, but why would he visit Hunith without telling Arthur—or inviting him to come along, for that matter?

He wanted to demand answers the second Merlin returned (looking oddly pale, actually) but Arthur waited until the whole political mess had been cleaned up and dinner had been set. He even let Merlin babble on about politics. The only time Merlin showed any interest in matters of state, it seemed, would be when Arthur's life was or had been threatened.

"I know an attempted assassination isn't usually a good thing," Merlin said, "But today it worked in your favor. Amata is now a part of Camelot."

"Things are going remarkably well," Arthur mused. "Peace with Odin, a strengthened alliance with Nemeth and Caerleon—"

"Is it true that Annis wants to make you her heir?"

"She has no sons to succeed her," Arthur admitted. "But it was only a tentative suggestion. She has many fine warriors that advise her, and she will live for many more years, I'm sure."

"Gawant is loyal, always has been—you really should think about taking down Essetir, by the way, Lot's far weaker than Cenred—Southron is yours as well, and everyone practically claims the Perilous Lands as yours since you retrieved the Fisher King's trident, plus Lady Catrina's former lands. And the Five Kingdom alliance remains secure, as well. All the smaller kingdoms owe us allegiance, we might as well rule them. Do we have a good enough excuse to make war on Alined yet?"

"Merlin, at this rate you'll have me be king of all of Albion."

"Well…" Merlin took a bite of chicken to avoid answering. "The title High King would suit you rather well, wouldn't it?"

Arthur glared at him. For all Merlin claimed to know nothing of state matters, he was oddly determined to raise (and praise) Arthur as high as he could get away with. The thing was, he was right. It was only a matter of time before Lot and Alined waged war on Camelot, either together or separately, and Arthur had spent the last three years preparing for it by making alliances with the smaller kingdoms such as Tir-Mor, offering protection and aid in exchange for assistance such Lot or Alined attack. He had no doubts that he would win and claim their lands for Camelot, should that day come. Olaf, Godwyn, Annis and Rodor were the only rulers left that Arthur trusted, of the four of them three had daughters and Annis herself had admitted she was getting on. If Annis did leave her kingdom to Arthur, as she had indeed suggested in her most recent correspondence, then one day Guinevere would inherit the largest kingdom Albion had ever seen.

"Besides, if the rumors are true than Nemeth and Gawant are going to be one kingdom soon," Merlin went on.

Arthur choked on his grape. "What?"

"Didn't you hear? Elena and Mithian are said to be getting on remarkably well."

Arthur decided it was time to change the subject. "And did you hear of this rumor on your trip to see Hunith?"

Merlin stared. "What?"

"Gwen told me all about it, Merlin. Why didn't you ask me to come along? I love seeing Hunith as much as you do."

Merlin opened his mouth, closed it, made a choking noise, and repeated the process. Arthur sighed. "You weren't visiting Hunith, were you."

Merlin shook his head.

"Why would Gwen lie about that?"

"She didn't!" Merlin said quickly. "I lied to her."

"And why on earth would you do that?"

Merlin twisted his napkin around. "I was helping someone. Their sister had the sweating sickness."

Arthur leaned his elbow on the table, raising his eyebrows. "And you couldn't have just had them see Gaius or, I don't know, told me where you were going?"

Merlin bit his lip, his eyes darting around guiltily, and then the whole story came pouring out. About halfway through Arthur's limbs started twitching and he got up to pace, just to give his body something to do.

"You're not angry, are you?" Merlin asked when he'd finished, gazing up at Arthur with his damned blue eyes.

"With you? No." Arthur ran a hand through his hair. "The druids are now protected, yes, but there is still much stigma against them and the practice of magic is still forbidden. I can see why you felt secrecy was best."

"But you are angry."

Arthur rounded on him. "Morgana tried to kill you! She left you for dead in the forest!"

"She tried to kill you too!" Merlin replied, standing up. "You were in just as much danger as I was!"

"No," Arthur growled. "This is between her, and me. You never did her any wrongs. You are not a part of this."

"She seems to think I am."

"She can attack me all she likes, she can hate Camelot all she likes, but she can't—the people I love, she—" Arthur found his words spilling out of him in spurts, uncontrollable and loaded with more emotion than he generally cared to exhibit.

"Arthur…" Merlin stood in front of him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"She hurt you because she knows, she knows how I feel about you. If I lost—" Arthur broke off, unable to finish. Merlin kept staring at him, eyes bright and expression knowing. "I can't handle that," Arthur finally whispered miserably. "I can't have you hurt because of me, simply because I love you."

"Morgana is insane, Arthur. She's consumed with rage. There's no reasoning with someone like that. If I were to die—"

"Don't you dare—"

"If I were to die," Merlin repeated, relentless, "It would not be your fault. Loving someone is hardly a crime."

Arthur drew him in and held him, his arms wrapping around as far as they could go. He felt Merlin's clothing, worn butter-soft from so much use; felt the skin underneath, pale and smooth; felt the muscles underneath the skin, wiry and surprisingly firm. He pressed his face into the side of Merlin's head, buried it in Merlin's hair, breathed in the smell of him. Jealousy grew in his stomach and spilled over, boiling like a poisonous gas, seeping up through his veins and getting into every part of him, making him seethe. He was jealous of everything and nothing, of the million things and the hateful person that could possibly take Merlin from him, claim him in a way different but no yet permanent from Arthur's own claim.

He was jealous of Death itself.