December 531

—Φ—

Much had happened since Kilgharrah had wrought fiery vengeance upon Camelot. Only now, after weeks had passed, was the capital finally resembling some normalcy. Arthur had been run ragged, mostly by himself, with taking point on the rebuild where Uther was too occupied. He had bade Merlin stay in the antechamber for many days after that night; perhaps for comfort. But sometimes, in his more melancholy moments, Merlin thought it was to keep watch on him.

A by-product of staying so consistently close to the prince was watching his activity take a toll on him. Once, Merlin had made the grave mistake of pointing out that Arthur was not inexhaustible and needed more rest and sustenance than he was allowing himself. The eyes that had bored into Merlin after the comment had a flatness to them that was a warning in itself.

"I have to do this, Merlin," Arthur had said.

"You can't do everything," Merlin responded, frustrated with the stress the blond was under. "You aren't responsible for what happened."

Arthur slammed his goblet down onto the table, making Merlin jump, and pinned Merlin with a glare while red wine splashed onto the dark wood.

"But I am responsible for you."

A triumvirate of accusatory, resigned, and guilty.

"Young warlock."

Merlin had flinched, tightened his hands on the wine pitcher he held, and looked down with teeth clenching in his mouth. His state during this moon phase made it all the more difficult for him to hold back from bursting into tears on the spot. Neither of them had spoken again the rest of the evening and Merlin let his sorrow out into his pillow in the antechamber that night.

He knew that Arthur was still angry about the magic and somewhat embarrassed by the display of affection which had taken place in the clearing after Kilgharrah had gone. Despite a few times these residual emotions had come to the fore in his behavior, for the most part the blond was just tired. Too tired, it seemed, to address anything but the immediate needs of the kingdom.

So, when Arthur had instructed him to prepare for a hunting trip with just the two of them, Merlin had been surprised. He was more than pleased to acquiesce as this was the first break the prince had taken in almost two months of straight work, even if it would involve shooting innocent creatures. The fact that those creatures would actually be eaten instead of being taken only as trophies made it easier, though. Too many nobles killed for that kind of selfishness, taking heads only and leaving the corpses to rot uselessly in the forest. It was wrenching for Merlin to even think about. He was pleased to say that Arthur's kills, sans the heads of course, were taken to the castle kitchens or given to nearby villages. The blond called trophy hunting dishonorable and unsporting, having become even more vocal about his stance after the unicorn incident.

They left early in the morning two days later with Uther's permission and Arthur had remained quiet the whole time. Merlin wanted to fill the silence with the usual chatter which Arthur would never admit relaxed him. But there was something off, an air to the space around them that he didn't want to disturb. To drive that sense home, Arthur only seemed interested in small game instead of the larger prey he usually preferred tracking. His ability with a bow was the same as ever, decisive and aiming to kill as quickly as possible, but he was distracted and Merlin ended up gathering arrows rather than game.

The silence, as the day wore on, seemed to be taking on a charged quality that made Merlin's skin crawl. Every time he looked over at Arthur, the blond's jaw seemed to clench to the point that Merlin eventually stopped looking altogether. It was galling, in a lot of ways, that this was how their trip was turning out. Merlin had wanted this respite to be an actual relaxation for the prince but it felt like the exact opposite was happening. The horses could sense the tension and Merlin had to constantly calm his sweet Denna as they went, letting her nibble more than normal.

By the time evening had come, Merlin was rather grateful to be distracted with setting up camp while Arthur tended the horses. At least occupying himself with the animals was something Arthur actually liked doing, though heaven forbid anyone know a prince liked horses and their husbandry. He tended the creatures only when with trusted knights or just the two of them. Merlin left him to it then took the flints and was trying to light the fire when he heard footsteps come up from his flank.

"Merlin, get up," Arthur said quietly.

Confused, Merlin slowly set the flint down and rose to his feet. His stomach clenched into a knot, unsure of what was about to happen but immediately assuming it wouldn't be good. The prince didn't look angry at the moment but the schooled placidity of his face was not exactly encouraging, either.

"Use your magic."

Merlin felt his eyes widen as they shot to Arthur's, searching for some hint of jest but found none. His whole body tensed and the knot in his stomach had decided to writhe around, making him slightly nauseated. He had never used his magic so blatantly in front of Arthur — around him and under his nose, yes, but not right in front of his face. It was akin to being told to strip naked. Yet, there was no doubting the command in Arthur's voice and stance; he fully expected to be obeyed.

"Are you sure it's —"

"Merlin, just do it."

Swallowing hard, Merlin put his shaking hand out over the fire pit.

"Forbærnan."

Below them, the wood within the makeshift circle of stones burst into flame and Merlin let his arm drop to his side. Unable to look Arthur in the face for some reason, Merlin settled on his chest. He watched it as the prince took a deep breath and let it out.

"Your eyes...," the blond murmured. "How did I... I can't believe I never noticed."

"I've learned how to hide it pretty well," Merlin offered, rubbing his hand self-consciously against his trousers as he risked glancing up.

Arthur gave a humorless laugh and ran a hand through his hair, a twisted half-smile on his face.

"'I wouldn't lie to you,'" he quoted harshly, making Merlin freeze completely. "Did you ever really mean that?"

"Yes, every time."

"It was a lie every time."

"Not because I wanted to," said Merlin desperately. "I never wanted to...to hide this. Hide who I am. Not from you."

"But you did, Merlin!"

"I'd be dead if I hadn't!"

"You don't know that. You don't —"

"You told me," Merlin snapped. "After Morgause summoned your mother; you told me that those who practice magic were evil and dangerous. That is exactly what you said to me."

Arthur had gone pale, staring at him with big eyes that held something Merlin couldn't identify. Then Merlin realized what words he had said, how he had said it, and his entire body went cold as stone despite the heavy cloak he wore.

"It was...real," Arthur breathed. "My mother was..."

He made a strangled sound and covered his face with one hand. For a moment, silence hung over them like a veil, almost tangible. Merlin wrapped his arms around himself tightly, wishing he could shrink and disappear completely. He had never meant to hurt Arthur. Not ever. Certainly not like this. Guilt clawed Merlin's stomach from the inside and he squeezed the fabric of his cloak in his hands, cursing his rash idiocy.

Then Arthur exploded with motion and suddenly a hand was fisted into the front of Merlin's clothes and he was jerked forward. The prince's face was livid and the pain in his eyes, the obvious wetness in them, had Merlin more shocked than the show of physical force as Arthur shook him. Merlin's heart twisted at the sight.

"You had no right," the blond hissed, inches from Merlin's face.

"It was the only way," Merlin whispered, hands coming up to grab the blond's forearm.

His eyes stung and his nose tingled.

"You lied to me!" Arthur shouted. "About my mother, Merlin! You should have —"

"You were going to murder your father!" Merlin cried, trying to push the arm Arthur held him with down.

Arthur glared and made a rumbling sound in his throat, gritting his teeth. His hand clenched tighter in Merlin's clothes and the younger man was afraid they would tear.

"You should have let me," he snarled. "Wouldn't that have been nice for you?"

Something left Merlin then and he stopped struggling against Arthur, hands no longer pushing but resting gently on the blond's arm. His chest ached almost in pulsing waves.

"No, Arthur. It would have destroyed you," Merlin said softly. "I couldn't let you do that to yourself."

The fist at Merlin's chest slackened and Arthur's eyes closed before he hung his head. A long moment passed with the two of them standing there and Merlin wanted to do something to comfort the other man but didn't know how.

"So many lies," Arthur muttered. "Was everything..."

"No," Merlin insisted when Arthur trailed off. "Please don't think that."

Merlin's hands had tightened around Arthur's arm so when the blond pulled away roughly, Merlin felt it. With nothing to hold onto, his hands came together uselessly against his chest and he hated the emptiness that flooded him.

"What am I supposed to think?" demanded the prince.

Even though he could feel the weight of Arthur's eyes on him, Merlin could not bring himself to meet them. This was such a huge part of why he had feared his abilities being revealed. He knew he could face death, certainly, but he had magic; he could, and would, have escaped in order to continue protecting Arthur. But there was no escape from the affect Merlin's deceit had and no way to protect the blond from it.

"I don't know," Merlin whispered. "I never wanted it to be this way."

"How did you want it to be, then? Would you ever have told me about your magic? If I hadn't found out on my own."

The lack of any response seemed to be answer enough for Arthur; he scoffed and shifted on his feet.

"Damn you, Merlin," he said. "Damn you."

It was said low, Arthur's voice coming from deep in his chest, but the recrimination there may as well have been a scream and a slap for how it stung.

"I couldn't risk having to leave."

"Don't," Arthur snapped. "You can't use 'protecting me' as an excuse every time you do something wrong."

Righteous heat suffused Merlin and he let his hands drop, now clenched into fists, eyes narrowing.

"Wrong? You have no idea what I've done to protect you," he bit out. "Every action I've taken. Every person I've..." Merlin cut himself off; his throat had become too tight to continue that sentence.

Arthur looked at Merlin like he was a stranger and it sliced into Merlin's heart. The blond shook his head as if to deny the obvious implication from his servant's words. That gaze made it feel like there were worms under Merlin's skin and he rubbed his arms, heat pricking his eyes. He didn't know if he could do this, stay by Arthur's side, if Arthur was going to look at him and see a monster. A feeling of something dropping away from him crawled its way into his chest and settled there.

"What have you done, Merlin?" came the voice, soft and full of both wonder and fear.

It did not give Merlin the satisfaction he thought ending the silence would. But that hardly mattered now. Merlin may not have wanted this but this is what was happening. Whatever emotions tried to strangle his resolve, he had to be stronger. His devotion to what he must accomplish could not waver. Not for anything. He had to fight against any feelings that would compromise his fidelity.

He had to win.

Lifting his head in defiance of everything against him, including his own cursed feelings, Merlin steeled himself and forced his eyes to meet Arthur's.

"Whatever it took."

Arthur turned away and it felt like being stabbed.

—Φ—

There wasn't actually anything else to do with the horses but Arthur went to them anyway. He stroked the nose of his bay stallion, Hengron, and fiddled with the straps of the saddle. Then proceeded to do roughly the same with Denna, Merlin's dapple grey mare. She mouthed at his hand but he had nothing for her so she puffed air at him and moved her head away. Arthur didn't blame her.

Usually Merlin was the one who prepared what he hunted while they were out but Arthur needed something to do; something that would occupy his mind. This trip hadn't truly been for hunting, that much was likely obvious by now to his companion. Now, though, he couldn't bring himself to do what he'd intended: talk to Merlin about his magic.

Merlin's last words echoed through his mind and Arthur wanted to pretend he didn't understand what they meant. Desperately so. He took the brace of rabbits he'd shot earlier off a ways into the trees and settled near the river to dress them but eventually the monotonous rote of the actions were not enough to distract.

A weight had planted itself within his chest from the moment Merlin had told him why he'd deceived him all this time. It was Arthur's own fault, likely, for allowing himself to be shaped by someone else's opinion despite all the signs that said person held a vicious bias. But before the incident with his...with Morgause, Arthur had not been fully against magic. He knew the druids to be a peaceful people and had even gone to great lengths, and personal risk, to save Mordred. The boy was just a child, he had not deserved death for existing. No more than Merlin did.

Surely, Merlin could have told him after Mordred's escape. He had seen the softness in Arthur's heart toward a person with magic and he could have said something then. The blame for Merlin's silence was not Arthur's alone to bear, he wouldn't even brook argument with that. Regardless of blame — which was useless now — the question that remained was: what else?

How much was Merlin still hiding from him? What could Merlin have done to warrant the reaction Arthur had gotten when he had asked? From what Merlin implied, with that damnable stubbornness of his, there were things more severe than lying about what Morgause had summoned.

Whatever it took.

What had it taken? Arthur needed to know but also, deep in his gut, was anxious to find out. For to know how far Merlin had already gone would give Arthur an idea of how far he was willing to go and, to be honest with himself, that was what he feared. While loyalty and devotion were much to be desired in a manservant, or really anyone, the level shown by Merlin was exceptional. Borderline insane. Not to mention dangerous, considering the raw power Merlin wielded. No child was just born with it; not outside druids and Merlin had never hinted at any druidic heritage. Arthur knew that was another subject altogether. The danger Merlin's blind fealty to Arthur, the willingness to go farther than sanity allowed, also extended to Merlin himself. The shorter man had drunk poison for Arthur, had been willing to not only the once but twice.

How could Arthur ever hope to be worthy of it? Measuring up to his father's standards and expectations was hard enough, how was he supposed to do so with Merlin's as well? Uther's demands were very straightforward; strength, courage, decisiveness, intelligence, and dedication to his duty as Crown Prince and heir to the throne. Those, at least, were things that Arthur felt he could actually attain. This new facet of faith from Merlin seemed to be so much more; almost too much.

Arthur went back to camp with the rabbits and held them out to Merlin; whatever was happening between them, they still had to eat. But Merlin didn't take them, only stood there staring at the ground. Arthur could see the flush across the sides of his face and his neck which meant the younger man was going through strong emotions. He'd seen it before, weeks ago when that Dragonlord had died.

"I'm not leaving," Merlin said, barely over a whisper but with an edge.

Arthur blinked and his hand with the rabbits lowered while he tried to figure out what Merlin was talking about. It wasn't a stretch that Arthur's leaving their conversation earlier had hurt Merlin, but Arthur had needed time to think. Before he could ask what the brunet was talking about, Merlin spoke again.

"Even if you ha-ate me."

"I don't," Arthur said instantly without meaning to because the idea of such a thing was beyond all thinking.

The other man's eyes fluttered closed and Arthur could hear the relieved sigh rush past his lips before he held out his hand.

"Here, give them."

Arthur handed the cleaned rabbits over and watched as they were set up over the fire. The two men sat on the cold ground with their bedrolls under them, blankets around them, and watched the fire roast the meat for a long time. Arthur was glad the weather was dry so all they had to contend with was the icy temperature.

"No more lies, Merlin," Arthur said after a while of thinking what was most important. "I need to be able to trust you and I need you to trust me."

"I do trust —"

"No, you don't. You may have had good reason not to but we both know the reason you didn't tell me is because you didn't trust me."

"I wanted to."

Arthur shrugged at that. A lower class gesture he could never do in front of his knights or his father or the court. No one but Merlin and a lady who was currently lost to them.

"Perhaps. But it doesn't matter. What matters is now and from here forward."

The younger man had his arms around his knees and his wrappings all around him but Arthur still saw him nod.

—Φ—

Merlin tried to be hopeful yet at the same time was trying to not be hopeful. All he could do was nod because Arthur was right, they needed trust between them if they were ever going to move forward. And they had to move forward. He glanced over at the blond and saw his jaw work for a moment before he spoke again.

"First, I need to make something clear to you," Arthur continued. "Look at me."

Merlin did not want to, too caught up in guilt and frustration and a plethora of other confusing emotions all at once, but he did. Determination was always a good look on Arthur and now was no different. The firelight was flickering orange and red over the darkened sky blue of his eyes, giving an effect similar to a sunset and it was a little mesmerizing.

"I swear to you, on my life and honour and all I hold dear, Merlin," he said resolutely, "I will allow no harm to come to you over your having magic."

The words sent a tingling through Merlin's body, same as in that clearing weeks ago, and he hugged his knees tighter to suppress the shiver that followed. He sucked in a breath and stared into the fire.

"There's no way you can keep that oath, Arthur," he murmured.

"I will."

"You don't need to do that fo—"

"If you're about to say I don't need to do it for you, then you can shut up, Merlin," Arthur grumbled. "I will not be protected by someone who refuses to allow me to do the same. Does my honour mean so little to you?"

Merlin hid a tiny smile behind his arms and shook his head.

"Now, I need you to swear something to me."

Suddenly nervous, Merlin's smile faded and he looked over to the prince questioningly.

"The truth, Merlin," Arthur said, eyes boring into Merlin. "No more secrets. No more lies."

"I...I can't tell you things that are not mine to tell," Merlin hedged, thinking immediately about Morgana.

"Obviously, Merlin. That would be dishonourable."

Nodding, Merlin licked his lips and lifted his head so Arthur could hear him clearly. He looked at the prince for a moment and his heart softened at the expression on Arthur's face. Maybe Arthur truly did need whatever was between them as much as Merlin did.

"I swear to you, on my life and honour and all I hold dear, Arthur," Merlin said, with the same words that were used for him. "I will not lie to you about my magic."

He didn't miss the huff of air that went out of the prince, nor the way the broad shoulders relaxed. Guilt wanted to scrabble at him, find a way in, but Merlin wouldn't let it. Clearly, Arthur wanted a new start for them and if these oaths were his way of doing it — which, of course they were, he was a knight and oaths were what knights had for breakfast — then Merlin would join him. Lying to himself that he didn't want the same was foolish, because he did. Desperately enough that it was a little unnerving.

In front of him, the fire popped loudly and it reminded him that there were rabbits cooking. Poking them with his finger told him they were ready to take off and he did so, leaning the long sticks with cooked rabbit against one of the larger stones to rest.

"They need a few minutes to rest and then we can eat," he said.

"Good," Arthur replied as he shifted his position. "While we eat, you can think about how you want to tell me the truth about everything."

The dark-haired man swiveled his head to peer at Arthur with wide eyes, forgetting his fingers were still on hot rabbit meat. Hissing at the pain, he jerked them back with a curse and blew on them.

"Everything?" Merlin asked, mostly to stall because his mind was suddenly swimming.

"Yes, Merlin. Everything," confirmed Arthur firmly, looking straight at Merlin. "From the day we met."