Chapter 3

"Did you know that Gwaine likes men?"

"Uh..." Merlin blinked. "Good morning to you too?"

Gwen was on a trip with Elyan to visit their father's grave, an annual tradition the siblings observed each year, and so Arthur had invited Merlin to breakfast.

"I just... I didn't know."

"Really?" Merlin pulled up a chair, piling his plate high from a delicious spread that Arthur had no appetite for. "I'm surprised he hasn't tried to kiss you yet."

"What?!"

"When he's drunk he tends to get a bit, uh... affectionate. Doesn't really make a difference if you're a man or a woman."

Arthur stared. "Has he kissed you?"

"He's tried," Merlin shoved a strip of bacon into his mouth. "Why? He didn't try something on at the tavern, did he?"

Arthur had a million questions on the tip of his tongue, but the thought of mentioning a single one - even to Merlin - filled him with shame. "Never mind. It doesn't matter."


"Have you ever been attracted to a woman?"

Gwen, preparing for bed at her dressing table, raised her eyebrows at him in the mirror. "Why do you ask?"

"Something Gwaine said." Arthur perched on the edge of their bed. "It's made me see how narrow my view on certain things has been. How little I really know."

Virgin, a voice hissed in his mind.

Gwen picked up her brush and set to teasing the knots from her hair. "The first time I... I felt that way was with a woman."

"Who?"

She grimaced. "Morgana."

"Morgana?"

"A long time ago. We were just girls."

"Did she know?"

"Gosh no! I barely even knew what I was feeling, let alone how to bring it up. I never really thought that girls could feel like that about other girls. It's only really now, talking to you that I can admit... well, that she was my first love, I suppose." She caught him smirking in the reflection. "What's so funny?"

"No, nothing." He shook his head fondly. "Only I always thought of her as my first love too."

Gwen giggled. "Strange to think we have the same taste in women."

When Arthur was twelve years old, the other young squires would speak at length of their various flirtations. While they swapped lewd fantasies of exactly what they wished to do with the objects of their affection, he prepared for when he might be asked who he fancied. He weighed up his options and came to an easy decision. Morgana.

She was beautiful, not to mention clever, but more than that - she was off-limits. The others might leer after young Lady Elowen, or make crude comments on the fit of Lady Seraphina's corsets, but none would dare act in such a way towards the King's own ward. And so in choosing her, he protected himself. He didn't need to join in with the coarse talk or offer his own. He just laughed in the right places and nodded when appropriate.

"The thing is," Arthur continued as this all came back to him. "I'm not sure I ever did like her like that. Not really. I just felt like I should."

"What do you mean?"

"I knew how to pretend. You're taught things like that as a noble, how to woo and be wooed. The question of what you actually wanted never really came into it." He sprawled back on the bed with a heavy sigh. "The more I discover, the harder love feels to unravel."

Gwen twisted round to face him properly. "For what it's worth, I'm not sure I could explain what love is either. I never told anyone what I felt about Morgana. I just tried to ignore it, pretend it wasn't there until eventually it wasn't. Then I used to think true love could only happen between two people, but now... well, perhaps our ideas of love change as we grow older."

"Perhaps."

She hesitated, considering something. "Did you know I used to fancy Merlin?"

"Oh he takes great pleasure in teasing me that you kissed him before you kissed me." He sat up again, eyeing her curiously. "What makes you bring that up?"

"I just wondered if you and I might share the same taste in men, too."

Arthur burst out laughing. "Excuse me?!"

"You're different around him." Gwen's expression remained open, steady, even as Arthur sniggered in derisive disbelief. "At ease in yourself."

"Of course I am! He was my manservant for years, if I wasn't comfortable with him I'd- I'd-" He could feel himself getting flustered, much the same as when he had seen Gwaine and the barkeep together. "He's a friend. A good friend, but that's all."

For a moment he thought she might argue - but she just shrugged and turned back to the dressing table. "Alright. Just a thought."

As she finished plaiting her hair, Arthur's mind drifted to the palace courtyard, years ago. He had just met Gaius's brash new apprentice for the first time.

Do I know you?

Er, I'm Merlin.

So I don't know you.

It was strange to think of a time when he hadn't known Merlin. He had grown so far estranged from that version of himself, the snobbish prince desperate to impress his father. Gwen was right about one thing - from the moment he and Merlin had met, Arthur had been set on a path to becoming the man he was today. A man he could be proud of. A man who stood strong in his values.

Was that love? he asked himself as she blew out the candles and settled beside him. The question kept him up all night.


He returned to the tavern a few days later, but this time he was alone. He ordered a drink and downed it. Ordered another and, suitably courageous, approached a farmer lingering in the corner.

His name was Rowan, Arthur discovered, and he was nice enough to talk to. Nice to look at too, with broad shoulders and a kind smile set into his tanned face. Halfway through the conversation, his fingers - rough from hard work - brushed against Arthur's. To the king's immense disappointment, he felt nothing.

It reminded him of when his father had insisted he propose to Princess Elena to strengthen their alliance with another kingdom. Running through the motions of courtship, saying what he knew he was supposed to, trying to convince himself that this might lead to love. Knowing, deep down, that it wouldn't.

He made his excuses and left the tavern, wondering if he would feel different if it were Merlin who had brushed against him like that.


The next night, Merlin showed Arthur an old spell book in the library. It was one of many which Camelot's librarian Geoffrey had squirrelled away during Uther's purge, and Merlin thought it might hold a way to better enforce protection on the citadel.

"This bit means 'defend', which sounds hopeful." He pointed to the passage in question. "But then the rest is just confusing..."

Merlin kept talking, but Arthur was distracted. While one of the warlock's hands was animated, gesturing to ancient words of the Old Religion, the other lay still upon the table. An inch way from Arthur's.

Those hands had once chosen Arthur's outfits, adjusted his cloak, helped him to dress. A thousand light touches of skin on skin which had felt so very comfortable that Arthur had hardly paid them heed. He realised now that he had been missing it. Merlin's touches, even small as they were, made him feel seen. Cared for. Safe. The only other person who made him feel that way was Guinevere.

"You're not listening, are you?"

He snapped out of his reverie.

"What was that?"

Merlin looked more amused than annoyed. "Shall we pick this up tomorrow?"

"That might be for the best."

Merlin closed the old book carefully, tucking back wads of ancient parchment into its binding and casting a swift enchantment so none of the pages would disintegrate before they could properly look them this was done he brushed the dust off his hands, frowning when it transferred to his clothes instead.

"I'll write to Iseldir. He's much better at this sort of thing than I am."

"You're not so bad."

The compliment felt strange on Arthur's tongue and, apparently, Merlin thought so too. The warlock looked up from where he had been unsuccessfully trying to scrub away the residual grime on his trousers.

"It's not like you to give compliments so easily. Shall I call Gaius? See if you're running a fever?"

Arthur relaxed at the familiar teasing. He had spent so long thinking about things recently, running through memories and weighing up his own feelings. When he was around Merlin, his thoughts quietened. He felt content.

Seized by a sudden impulse, he reached for Merlin's hand - but panicked halfway and diverted the motion into a friendly punch on the arm instead.

"Ow!" Merlin had never cared for the roughhousing Arthur sometimes employed with his knights. He rubbed his arm ruefully. "I suppose that's goodnight then?"

Arthur wanted to say something, but whatever it was got lost somewhere between his mind and his mouth.

"Goodnight," he managed to croak, mouth dry from all the dust, and he watched Merlin walk away.


That night he had his chambers to himself. Lying in the dark he could almost imagine Merlin were there too. They had shared a bed before, when occasion called for it, and camped beside one another more times than Arthur cared to count. Would it be the same now?

No, Arthur decided, because now he wouldn't be content just to lie there. He would reach a hand out, properly this time, and lay it on Merlin's shoulder, his hand, his waist. The thought filled him with a deep serenity that lulled him into welcome slumber.