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By the time Arthur emerged from the hut, Merlin had already started eating. He was sat atop a rolled up bedroll, biting at what looked like an assortment of vegetables skewered on the end of a stick. Next to him was another bedroll seat along with an identical food stick jammed into the earth at such an angle as to keep the food warm over the small, crackling campfire.

Arthur plopped down, his stomach giving a low rumble. He rolled his shoulders, tried to rub some tension from his neck. Taking up his stick, he settled in for a pensieve meal. There was a time when he would have welcomed the distraction of chatter, but not now.

'What am I going to tell Gwen tomorrow?' his thoughts started, 'She can't know about Merlin's magic, but she'll undoubtedly ask about Morga-'

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Arthur glanced over - Merlin's finger was tapping on his stick. Arthur heaved a put upon sigh, making an effort to ignore the annoyance.

'And what do I do about Merlin? Is it right of me to ask him to abandon his home knowing now how much he's already-'

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Now Merlin's knee was bobbing up and down. Arthur's teeth grinded and his lips pursed.

'What am I doing? I'm Gwen's husband. Why am I staying with Merlin? What am I hoping to discov-'

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"Stop worrying so loud, I'm trying to think!" Arthur finally shouted.

Merlin huffed, "Stop thinking so loud, it's making me worry!"

Both made an aggrieved groan, but Merlin's incessant noises stopped so Arthur assumed that was the end of it.

"Soooo…" Merlin poked at the fire with his empty stick as Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose, "...Gah-wennn…"

"Leave it alone, Merlin," Arthur warned, not even looking up from his meal.

"Are you going to tell me what you two discussed?"

Arthur's response was garbled around a bite of potato, "Wan't panning onit, no."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Was it good? Was it bad? Is she angry? Is she glad?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow at him, took another bite.

"This is ridiculous," Merlin swiveled to face the source of his frustration. "Are you going to tell me if we're returning to Camelot?" he waved the stick at Arthur, "Because if we are, I'll need to pack, find us horses, erase our tracks, inform Moth-"

"I can't tell you that. Not yet."

"Terrific," Merlin sulked, throwing the stick to the ground. Well, if Arthur wouldn't tell him outright, he'd tease it out of him. "I bet you don't even know," he smirked, confident Arthur's pride would give him away.

But Merlin's smirk faltered when no comeback came. Instead Arthur was fixated on his half-eaten dinner with all the seriousness of impending death, his silence an answer in itself. Which made no sense to Merlin…surely now that Gwen knew they were alive…it was one thing to need a few days reprieve after the hardest battle of their lives, but to actively turn away from Queen and Kingdom? What could Arthur possibly be thinking about that would keep him from-

"It's about me, isn't it?" Merlin's voice had gone quiet, "about my magic."

The flames had died down to a low burn, casting an eerie glow that highlighted Merlin's features in contrasting orange and shadow. Moonlight from behind gave him an otherworldly aura. Merlin looked so ethereal - Arthur couldn't put his finger on it, but something about Merlin seemed so alive…like he was beyond death. His fingers twitched to pull Merlin to him, breathe him into his lungs, feel those fingers tantalize across his skin, taketaketake this man under him again and again, make them both feel alivealivealive…

Gleaming eyes gazed at him, a swirl of confusion and guilt. A lump of shame formed in Arthur's throat.

He dropped his eyes, gulped, "You're not…wrong."

And just like that, the trick of the light broke and all Arthur could see was his friend, head bowed, shoulders slumped, in pain, again, because of him. 'I'm two for two tonight', he thought bitterly.

He ran his fingers through his hair, groaned in frustration. No matter what he did, he wound up hurting those he loved.

"I can stay here," Merlin offered, face still lowered, "Magic's against the law. If I return with you, you'd have to order my execution. I don't want to put you in that position." When Merlin raised his head, the lump in Arthur's throat swelled at the sight of tear tracks down his friend's cheeks.

Heavy silence beat between them until Arthur cleared his voice.

"Do you remember," Arthur ventured, "the first magic you showed me?"

Merlin grimaced at the ground, "How could I forget?"

Arthur winced, regretting his reaction at that time, "Can you…would you...do it again?"

Merlin's glistening eyes went wide. He sniffled, wiped his sleeve across his face and gave a curt nod.

Keeping his eyes locked with Arthur's, Merlin slowly raised his hand toward the fire and waited. When Arthur signaled a final assent, he uttered:

"Upastige draca"

Gold flashed and embers glowed as red sparks rose, hovering over the flames in the shape of-

"A dragon," Arthur breathed in awe. The tiny creature flapped its wings and gave a silent roar. It seemed so life-like even as it sparkled in dots of fire. But unlike the first time, it didn't fade. With one great push of its wings it launched into flight! Soaring up, up, up it spiraled to the canopy over them, circling the campsite, a blazing orange light trailing its path. As Arthur watched, mesmerized, the dragon swooped down toward Merlin until it came face-to-face with its creator. Swishing its wings to bob in place, it gave Merlin a smile and silent coo.

But Merlin wasn't watching the dragon. Arthur was surprised to find those eyes regarding him as though he were a mystery to fathom out. He felt exposed by those eyes, like Merlin was seeing the other reason he was hesitant to return to his wife. Heat seeped to his cheeks and a familiar rush started to make his seat uncomfortable.

"Yes, well…" he coughed, standing abruptly, "thank you." He bent down to lay out his bedroll. "Let's get some sleep." Before his feelings could run away with him, he flopped onto his side, away from Merlin, crossing his arms tight against his chest and squeezing his eyes shut.

Silence, a sniffle, steps moving around, the fwump of unrolling a bedroll, rustling of settling down.

"You're a good man, Arthur," he heard Merlin state softly at his back, "You've become a great king. I believe in you. I'll return to Camelot and face the consequences of my actions, whatever you decide."

Oh God. Merlin was…he was telling Arthur he would allow himself to be executed if Arthur decreed it. Wetness slipped across Arthur's cheeks and he couldn't stop his voice from cracking.

"Goodnight, Merlin."

How could he ever think of taking anything from this man? This man who hid the most amazing power, who allowed himself to be subjugated, who was willing to sacrifice so much…all to serve him? His stomach churned at the selfish, depraved inklings he'd been allowing. He didn't deserve this level of dedication…he should relinquish Merlin's service to him, let him have what Arthur could not: a quiet, normal life.

No. He mustn't stay here with Merlin. It was a foolish idea. His duty was to his subjects and his wife.

In the morning he would talk with Guinevere and plan their return.