I don't catch on fire (but I love you still)
Title: I don't catch on fire (but I love you still)
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 7182
Beta: Thanks to aeris444
Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or any of the recognisable characters. They all belong to the BBC and Shine TV. I only borrowed them.
Summary: Arthur's known he's different since his teen years, when everyone around him was talking about sex and he just didn't get it. When he married Gwen, he hoped things would change but everything went awry. Now the council is pressing him to find a queen and produce an heir and he finds himself unable to go through another disaster. In his quest for a cure, he'll find something else entirely.
Note: If you're uneasy about the word cure in the summary, I just want to make it clear that the fic never implies that a cure for asexuality exists or that it's an illness or anything along those lines.
Also, I'm totally aware that my characters confuse sexual attraction and libido but since Arthur experiences none of them and given the settings, I couldn't really make them knowledgeable of everything about asexuality. I hope that won't offend anyone. (If you have no idea what I'm talking about but are interested in knowing more here's a glossary of terms related to asexuality and if you want to know more about asexuality in general, this is a very good place to start).
Finally, the first part of the title comes from a song about asexuality by Dearlie. Chek it out here
The door closed behind Arthur with a thump. A glance taught him Merlin was polishing his armour by the fire, apparently absorbed by his task yet Arthur knew his servant was discreetly observing him, ready to provide his help if it was needed. In that moment, the king almost regretted his manservant from the early days, forgetful and lazy. Not that Merlin wasn't forgetful and lazy anymore but he had improved. Above all he'd learned to read the king's mind and that was exactly what Arthur didn't want right now. All he wanted was to be alone. It took his lifetime of training not to let his royal mask fall as he sat at the table, holding a sigh.
"I'd like a bath," he said instead, doing his best not to let his state of mind show through his voice.
Merlin looked up from his work with a smile.
"The quick or the long way?"
"You're becoming lazy."
"I'm only thinking about your comfort."
"As if." Arthur wasn't in the mood to be patient, though, so he added: "The quick way."
Merlin's eyes turned gold then he grinned, full of pride. The sight warmed Arthur's heart a little yet he knew it wouldn't last.
"Your bath's ready, sire."
"Don't think I'll allow that to become a habit," the king said as he stood and walked to the adjacent room.
"Fear not. There's no risk, what with you saying that every time. I don't think it's a good sign that you've started repeating yourself, you know."
"Idiot."
The teasing was half-hearted and Arthur knew Merlin had noticed - Merlin always noticed - so he quickly entered the room and closed the door behind him. He leaned against it and sighed. Finally, he could let go, let his face crumble, let his shoulders hunch. He closed his eyes for a brief moment but the prospect of a hot bath was too appealing for him to push it back any longer. He undressed and walked to the bathtub, filled with steaming water. He immerged himself with a relieved sigh and closed his eyes again.
How things had changed in five years, he thought. First, Gwen's - the queen's - flight with Lancelot and then the discovery of Merlin's magic. Both had hurt, both had been a betrayal, but Arthur wasn’t angry with any of them anymore. If anything he was angry with himself. Angry because he hadn’t seen what Merlin had been hiding for so long nor everything he’d done for him. Angry because he’d failed to make Gwen happy when that was all he wanted. Of course, he’d failed. And now, the nobles were constantly reminding him he had to find a queen, to produce an heir. That part hadn't changed in five years. The future of the kingdom was at stake, they said. As if Arthur could forget.
The nobles didn’t know the reason behind the queen's disappearance, though. Some of them thought the pressure had been too much on her peasant's shoulders, that she'd thought a queen's life was all about gold, silk and feasts. Some, curse them, would have even been happy about her flight had it not altered the king's image so deeply. They all underestimated Gwen. She was strong. True, the pressure had been great but she could take it. Or she would have if the disaster of her marriage with Arthur hadn't weighed her down. It wasn't that he hadn’t loved her, oh no. He had. Fervently. It was just that… His love hadn’t shown in bed. At first, Gwen had thought it was her fault. Then when despite all her efforts nothing had changed, she’d suspected Arthur of not loving her. Their trust and understanding had crumbled. She loved him, he’d never doubted that, but that wasn’t enough. She was unhappy, felt neglected and lonely. She didn’t understand because Arthur couldn’t bring himself to talk about it. He’d felt guilty and ashamed. When he'd discovered she'd fled with Lancelot, he was hurt but almost relieved this hardship was put to an end.
Of course, it wasn't. They were rumours. It was, after all, a humiliation for a king to see his queen flee in the arms of another man. Some had adopted the same point of view as the nobles. The others had spoken of the king's inability to honour the queen in bed, be it because he preferred men or because he was impotent. And despite a lifetime of learning not to give credit to rumours, they hurt deeply.
Between those who thought he wasn’t fit for the throne and those who worried about the absence of an heir, the months following Gwen’s departure had been though on Arthur. If he'd managed, by his actions and words, to prove his legitimacy, deep inside he'd started to crumble.
The truth was he would never give an heir to Camelot and not, as the rumour said, because he favoured men or because he physically couldn’t. He'd first noticed he was different in his teenage years, when he’d heard the squires his age talk about women and what they wanted to do with them. Arthur didn’t understand because he'd found some women, and even some men, beautiful but the things the other boys talked about had never crossed his mind. He'd thought back then that it was because he was a prince. He was, somehow, above other men and their low inclinations. He’d dreamt of rescuing a captive princess, as in the tales, or failing that, of courtship, of love but never of what happened in bed between husband and wife. He'd just assumed it was some sort of obligation, something you did when you wanted to have a child but nothing more. He'd understood something was wrong with him when Uther, in a very awkward speech, had warned him against bastards and told him that, if he had to go to the whores, he’d better make sure no one knew about it. Arthur had simply not understood. The thought of going to the whores had never even crossed his mind and neither had the one of bedding a serving girl - or boy, for that matter. He hadn’t even thought about the trouble a bastard would bring. And now that Uther mentioned it, Arthur really couldn’t comprehend why anyone would take such a risk nor what this need his father was talking about was. He'd almost wanted to ask. Of course, he hadn't. His father’s words had been enough to make him understand there was something wrong with him. Uther might be glad his son behaved but not that he was different. Plus, the talk had been mortifying enough for Arthur to want not to prolong it.
He’d listened more after that, to the squires and the knights and their bawdy tales but still found he didn't understand. For a brief moment, he’d thought about going to the whores after all, just once. Maybe his sheltered upbringing was the only cause to his difference and once he'd see a woman naked he'd feel the same way as the other men. Or maybe he just needed to experience that pleasure they talked about to desire it. He’d never executed his plan, though, too afraid of the consequences. So he’d continued to listen when he could, when the men were too drunk to rule their speech in front of him. He’d taken the task as another object of study along military strategy and court etiquette, yet he’d never grasped it. He'd found hope again when he’d learned that men would touch themselves when they didn't have a woman to pleasure them. He'd tried, thinking he would finally feel that ecstasy some men ruined their lives for, thinking he would finally understand. He'd felt something all right but that had been far from the transcendental experience he'd thought it would be. He'd lied in his bed, sticky and slightly ashamed, even more at a loss than before. Surely that couldn't be what other men were lusting after. That wasn't unpleasant but it wasn't better than say, the taste of a good roast or the exhaustion after a hard training. And so, so much briefer. He must have done something wrong. He’d tried to understand what, which wasn't easy since he couldn't ask questions. So he’d repeated the experience a few times, each of which had left him underwhelmed. When his failure to understand had hurt too much, he’d stopped trying and figured it would be different once he’d find a wife.
It wasn't. His first night with Gwen had been a disaster. Then, once he’d understood what was expected of him, when Gwen had this way of stroking him - or even, to his stupor, take him into her mouth - he’d found he could do it. He could feel something warm inside his belly. He could honour her. Or at least, find release inside her. Whether she enjoyed it was another question and maybe the heart of the matter. That and the fact that he’d never initiated this lovemaking. She always had to coax him into it and was unsuccessful more often than not. It was simply too much of a chore for him. Too painful to see Gwen faking her pleasure. At least, she was with a proper man, now.
Arthur felt tears prickling his eyes at the memories. The years hadn't softened the failure. Especially not today, when again the council had repeated its wish to see the king take a wife. He knew the reasonable choice would be to listen to them, to find a queen and force himself to bed her until she was pregnant and to put aside all thoughts of how much he hated doing that. For the sake of the kingdom, that was what he should do, to go through the same disaster again. Yet he couldn’t bear the thought of it. He couldn’t do that to another woman. He couldn’t do that to himself.
He fought against the tears but they were stronger. They found their way on his cheeks to join the water of his bath. He could feel the weight of the kingdom on his shoulders, a kingdom he'd made thrive. Yet all his work would go to waste if he couldn’t produce an heir. There would be blood and wars and divisions of the lands. All because he failed at something so natural to everyone else. He bit his lip to hold back a sob.
Not for the first time, he wondered if he was worthy of the throne despite his condition. He was, after all, less than a man, unable to give Camelot what she needed. How long before the nobles rebelled? How long before the rumours became too strong? He had to find a way. And crying would solve nothing.
He took deep breaths, focussing on willing the tears to stop, cursing himself for his weakness. When they finally did, he leaned into the tub to let water cover his face. He stayed like that until his lungs screamed for air, letting them burn. When he re-emerged, all trace of his moment of vulnerability had disappeared from his face.
Once dressed, he went back to his chambers to see Merlin had set his dinner on the table. He sat down and began eating without tasting the food. It almost made him want to gag but anything else would have alerted Merlin that something was wrong and he couldn’t allow that. He needed to be strong, keep up the appearances even when inside he was falling apart. He was so tired, though, of feeling broken, inept and unworthy. He’d have done anything to be normal. Even ask for help.
It wasn’t the first time he’d thought about asking Merlin to find a cure, only he could never bring himself to do it. It was one thing to be healed after a nasty blow in training or helped when he couldn’t find the perfect wording for a speech but a complete different one to talk about his inabilities in bed. It felt too intimate. He was too ashamed. Yet what other choice did he have? If anyone could find a cure it was Merlin, the greatest sorcerer on the land and the only person Arthur trusted enough to confide this ailment to. So he braced himself and even though his insides were churning, his voice was steady when he called Merlin’s name.
The servant looked up from the armour he was still polishing. Arthur wished he hadn't.
"Yes, sire?"
"I need a remedy."
This time, Merlin was on his feet, walking to face Arthur.
"Are you ill?"
The king ignored the worried look on his face. He stared at a point right behind his servant's shoulder, fighting for his voice to stay calm and his hands steady.
"Not exactly. I need something to rekindle one's lust for women. I am not impotent, is that clear? I merely seem to have lost desire for the process."
He didn’t look at Merlin, not even when the servant failed to answer.
"Surely, you understand this matter must stay strictly between us."
"Of course."
"That means I don't want Gaius to know, either."
"As you wish."
"That'll be all for tonight."
Merlin didn’t leave. He just stood there and though Arthur still couldn’t bear looking at him, from the corner of his eye, he could see him scrutinizing him. As the silence stretched, he half expected Merlin to burst into laughter.
"What is it?" he asked, a bit harsher than he intended.
"Are you… Pardon me for asking but… Are you certain this… Condition doesn't come from a desire for men instead?"
"I am very certain."
"Arthur, you know I wouldn't-"
"I know. But I assure you it's not the case."
Merlin’s stare was becoming too much too bear. He felt naked, vulnerable, and something inside him revolted against it, something dark growing in his chest that would cause him to hurt his servant to save face. Merlin didn’t deserve that.
"Now, leave me, please."
Fortunately, the servant didn’t protest. He bowed reluctantly and turned on his heels. Only when the door closed behind him did Arthur stopped staring at his imaginary point and let his shoulders hunch.
***
Merlin finished arranging the bowls containing Arthur's dinner on the table before producing a vial from his pocket. He rested it next to the king's cup.
"I found something new."
"Will it work this time?" Arthur asked coldly. He was tired of trying new treatments, of looking at every woman on his way with the hope something had changed inside him only to be disappointed.
"I'm doing everything I can, sire."
Merlin could barely contain the hurt in his voice. Arthur sighed. He waved his hand as if to take away to bite of his words.
"I know." Then eyeing the huge amount of food on the table, he added: "Sit and eat with me."
Meals taken together had become more and more frequent lately and not only because Arthur felt guilty not to be able to give the powerful sorcerer risking his life for him a better position, the new law on magic being so long to put into shape. The king liked Merlin's presence, his babbling and their banter. He liked his silence, too, because Merlin always knew when they were needed. Arthur felt comfortable around him, too comfortable maybe and he feared to know why.
Surprisingly enough, Merlin sat down but didn't touch the food. That didn't bode well.
"Arthur, I meant to ask. Is this condition of yours the reason why you're not seeking a wife?"
"It almost seems you can think, Merlin."
Ignoring his sarcasm, Merlin continued: "But you could… I mean some lords would be happy to see you marry their daughter to strengthen their alliance with Camelot. They wouldn't have to know before-"
"We saw how well that worked with Guinevere."
"But it's different. A princess is brought up knowing she'll be married to whomever her father choses in the best interest of his kingdom. She'll not have the same expectations than Gwen had when you chose to go against all the rules to marry her."
"Are you even listening to yourself? I'm not marrying a woman knowing she'll spend every day of her life unhappy because of me. I always said I'd marry out of love and not obligation and that won't change."
Or would it? Arthur wasn't so sure anymore. Maybe his convictions were only childish and he had to put the welfare of the kingdom before his and his eventual wife's happiness. Yet he wasn't ready to come to that. Not yet.
"So you did love Gwen."
"Of course I did! I just didn't want to have sex with her!"
Merlin flinched.
"Sorry, I'm just… Trying to understand."
"I don't think there's anything to understand."
He tried to keep defeatism out of his voice but Merlin's expression turned concerned. Arthur hated it as much as he loved it. He didn't feel worthy of Merlin's attention or his loyalty yet he craved it. Sometimes, when the pressure was too much, when there was a decision to make and he was so terrified of making the wrong choice, when a meeting with the council had been particularly demanding, he felt Merlin's trust was the only thing that kept him from falling apart. Now more than ever. Sometimes, he wished he could let go for a while, put his head on Merlin's shoulder and think of nothing, just for a moment. He wasn't entirely sure Merlin would object. Yet he couldn't. He couldn't bear the thought of ruining what they had like he had ruined his marriage. He couldn't bear the thought of hurting Merlin. Besides, that would only make the matter of finding a wife more complicated.
"Anyway, that’s not what I meant,” Merlin went on. “You could find a woman willing to give up that part of her life to marry you and you could both be happy."
Arthur snorted.
"I don't think so. Not if she isn't only after the power or the gold and I would certainly not allow such a woman to sit on the throne of Camelot."
"Or if she loves you."
"So now you're implying Gwen didn't love me. Thanks, Merlin, you're such a good help."
The servant dropped his gaze, mumbling apologies and once more, Arthur regretted his words. He knew Merlin did his best. He knew he understood how difficult the matter was for the king or he wouldn't have treaded so carefully. When he spoke again, his voice was softer.
"Eat, you must be hungry."
"I wish I could help."
"I know."
For a moment, it seemed Merlin wanted to push to matter further but he gave up and reluctantly cut a slice of meat. He was soon busy with his meal, though without a trace of his usual appetite.
***
That night, when Merlin rested the vial next to Arthur's dinner, the king felt he'd seen this scene a thousand times. Nothing had worked. Seeing how things were, Arthur didn't even think it would help solve his problem if it had. There was only one person who caught his eye, only one who occupied his mind, and it wasn't a noble lady. It wasn't even a woman.
"You can take that away," he said.
"Sire?"
"I want to stop the treatment."
"But-"
"It's no use." Seeing the pain in Merlin's eyes, he added: "You did everything you could. If a sorcerer as powerful as you can’t find a cure, it's time to admit there's nothing one can do to fix me."
"Arthur..."
The king turned his gaze away, unable to stand the concern written on Merlin’s face. He’d seen it too often lately. It must be said that Arthur’s morale had dropped a little more with every ineffective treatment. He’d come to wonder if he should maybe abdicate and designate a successor. That would be unheard of in the Pendragon line yet it would be a lesser humiliation than that of his secret being discovered. He’d been on the verge of announcing his decision to Merlin one night when he’d felt particularly vulnerable yet he knew his servant would have protested. He would have said Arthur was a good king, that he didn’t need a queen to rule. And he would have been right. Pendragons didn’t give up that easily.
"It’s alright. I’ll tell the council there's only space in my heart for Camelot. If I word it well enough, I should be able to limit the rumours.”
"So you're choosing to live your life alone?"
"It's better than risking another fiasco."
"But you're lonely."
Trust Merlin to bring Arthur's happiness before the matter of his non-existent heir. It warmed the king's heart to know that a least one person in the kingdom cared for his well-being.
"It doesn't matter."
"You can't say that!"
"Of course, I can and I'm saying it: I won't marry again. Now the only thing I need is to find an heir to throne."
"I don't care about your bloody heir! I'm talking about your happiness!"
"Well, maybe it's not my destiny to be happy! Maybe this is how the gods chose to show me I should devote my life to Camelot and nothing else."
"Where are your grand speeches about love? Gone?"
"Yes and for the better. It's time I learned a king can't have everything he wants. His duty comes first."
"That's not true! You can be a good king and a happy man! You know it. You just need to-"
"Oh leave it! Why does it even matter? Why talk about my happiness when I can't make anyone happy?"
The words were out before Arthur could hold them back. He hadn’t meant to appear so vulnerable to Merlin and judging by the way his eyes grew wide, the servant hadn’t expect it either.
There was a beat during which Arthur went to the window to escape Merlin's stare. He hated letting himself go this way but that was what his servant did to him. He lulled him into a sense of comfort and security, brought his defences down until Arthur was laid bare. It frightened him and yet it fascinated him.
"Have you forgotten the look on this woman's face a fortnight ago when you accepted her plead to lower her taxes because her husband had died and she could barely feed her children?" Merlin finally whispered. "Or that servant you helped carrying her basket because it was too heavy for her?"
"That wasn't what I meant."
"I know but it matters too."
Arthur didn't answer. He didn't want to have this conversation, not even with Merlin. Pendragons didn't discuss their feelings. Pendragons weren't weak half-men. He was about to order Merlin to leave when the latter asked: "Have you thought about what I said? That someone who loves you could accept to give up this part of their life?"
"Don't be so naive. Love can't solve everything. And it certainly can't fill the absence of something that important."
"It's not that important for everyone."
"Excuse me if I don't consider you as the best expert on that matter. Have you even had a relationship?"
That was low and Arthur immediately regretted it. Why was it that he always managed to hurt Merlin's feelings when he was uncomfortable?
"I was too busy saving the life of the greatest prat of the land. Have you considered Gwen might have left because you're so fucking rude?"
Arthur's throat closed. Though they never talked about it, he knew Merlin visited Gwen sometimes. The implication of his servant's words left him breathless, shattered. He heard the chair scrape against the ground then Merlin's footsteps move away.
"Is that what she said?" he asked his voice rough with the tears he was fighting to hold back.
The footsteps stopped. There was a pause before Merlin answered.
"No. We never talk about you."
"Is that what you think then?"
There was a sigh then Merlin walked closer.
"Sometimes… Sometimes you say things that hurt."
"I'm sorry.” And then, since he was vulnerable enough not to care anymore, he added: “I'm sorry you have to put up with me."
"I don't have to."
"But you do."
"Yeah… And sometimes I say things I shouldn't, too."
There was another pause while the only sound was Arthur’s deep breaths as he tried to will away the tears and the lump in his throat. In the end, Merlin was the first to speak.
"I meant what I said earlier. You shouldn't give up. That you have no desire for sex doesn't mean you can't be loved."
"How can you be so sure?"
"I-I just… am."
Arthur turned around, slightly stunned. He'd been suspecting Merlin's devotion didn't have everything to do with loyalty for a while now but he'd always put the thought aside, half because it was more convenient, half because he was afraid to be wrong. Now again, he feared he was giving Merlin's words a meaning they didn't hold. Yet the servant's gaze fixed on the floor and his slight blush seemed to indicate he wasn't.
"Anyway," the servant began with a cheerful tone that sounded fake, "just, think about it, right? You need someone to love and support you."
"I already have that, haven't I?"
Merlin's eyes grew wide.
"What do you mean?"
Arthur didn't answer. He simply couldn't, not if there was the slightest chance he was wrong. His comment had been risky enough. That might make him a coward but he couldn't handle rejection right now, not when he was so vulnerable. So he waited for Merlin to work it out and to confirm his suspicion if it was right.
As silence stretched, Arthur felt his throat close again. He turned to the window, hoping it was enough to hide his shattering heart.
"Nothing. That'll be all, Merlin."
He was so stupid. Of course, Merlin didn't love him. How could he love someone who was missing pieces?
"Arthur..."
"I'll be alright. Just go."
A hand on his shoulder.
"No, you won't. You're not."
Arthur didn't trust his voice enough to disabuse him.
"You were right, you already have someone to love you. Only I… I'm afraid that's not the person you want."
"You'll need to be more specific."
"Don't make me say it if… If you…"
The king's breath caught. He turned around, his heart racing, to face Merlin looking at him with a glint of hope in his eyes.
"If I what?" he breathed.
"If you don't want to hear it."
Arthur's fingertips brushed Merlin's cheek.
"I do."
"I love you."
"Even with… Everything you know?"
"You already know I’d give my life for you, why do sound so surprised?"
“Isn’t that something you need?”
“Not as much as I need you, no.”
"You say that now but-"
"We can make it work. I mean, if you want to."
Arthur wasn't sure how to answer. Saying he wanted to didn’t seem enough but other declarations were too much for him. Not that he didn't love Merlin, simply he had laid bare his soul more than he'd intended to already and wasn't sure he could take that step. Not right now. So he leaned forward until his lips met Merlin's.
They remained motionless, their lips barely touching, for a few heartbeats before Arthur understood Merlin was letting him take the initiatives. The realisation made Arthur's heart swell. He cupped Merlin's face with his hands and let his tongue caress his lips until they parted. Merlin's fingers gripped the king's tunic as their tongues met. It was a slow, well-behaved kiss yet it made Arthur's inside melt. He felt a bit weird for nothing wanting more - from what he'd heard and the time that had passed since he'd found out his feelings for Merlin, he should be tearing his clothes apart by now - but it didn't hurt as much as it had before. Merlin knew. Merlin accepted him the way he was.
"You know, we can skip the kissing part if you don't like it," Merlin said when they parted.
"Am I that bad? We really need to work on your habit to insult me."
"That's not what meant!" Merlin protested, his face heating up. He was going to add something but Arthur cut him off.
"I know."
"Prat!"
Arthur chuckled.
"Seriously, though, if you're not comfortable with something, tell me, right?"
The king nodded, trailing his fingertips on Merlin’s cheek. He wanted to say how grateful he was, how much Merlin’s attentions and comprehensiveness touched him but he couldn’t find the words. Instead, not for the first time, he swore to himself he’d do everything he could to see that precious man happy.
"It'll take sometimes but we'll figure it out," the servant added.
"Thank you, Merlin."
"What for?"
"For… Well, being you."
The servant grinned, that radiant grin that crinkled his eyes and dimpled his cheeks. The one that never failed to make Arthur slightly weak in the knees, not that he'd ever admit that, of course. He didn’t share Merlin’s optimism, not entirely. The wound caused by the disaster with Gwen wasn’t healed. He was still afraid this would end in tears. But he would try, he would fight to make it work, to be the man Merlin deserved. Their relationship wouldn’t solve the absence of a queen or an heir but he wanted to forget, just for a moment, while Merlin hugged him tightly.
***
Arthur rolled the scroll he’d been working on and watched as Merlin knelt to stoke the fire. It was the last step of his night-time routine. In a minute he would be gone, just after a quick kiss, if the king was lucky. It had been a few weeks since that thing between them had started. Arthur didn’t know how to call it. They barely touched and didn’t kiss much either. In fact, he wasn’t sure what had changed between us except that they took all their meals together. The way Merlin looked at him, maybe, the unrestrained affection in his eyes. It wasn’t that Arthur had expected their lives to turn upside down or the both of them to suddenly act like lovesick teenagers but this whole thing left him slightly underwhelmed. It wasn’t exactly that Merlin was distant, either. No, they were as close as they’d been before. Yet he could tell Merlin paid attention not to invade his personal space more than he did usually as if he feared it would make Arthur uncomfortable. The king wasn't sure where that idea came from, though he'd come to realise he never initiated contact either. Only it wasn't because he didn't like it. He just wasn’t used to show his affection and the longer it went, the harder it became. He wasn’t only awkward anymore, he was also afraid he’d gotten everything wrong again and Merlin wasn’t giving him space but was disgusted or regretted their arrangement. And even though his fears didn’t survive a loving gaze from Merlin, they came back more and more often.
Finally, Merlin stood up. He turned to Arthur, presumably to wish him good night, but a single look at the king made his brow furrow. He sat opposite to Arthur.
"Is there something wrong?"
It wasn't usual for him to be so direct. He probably knew he had a better chance of making Arthur open up with a more subtle approach. Yet the day had been long, spent listening to reports from knights and complains from nobles, and he must be tired. Arthur could see it in his eyes, even though he tried his best to hide it. That might be what made him put a hand on Merlin's wrist and stroke it gently with his thumb. Merlin smiled.
“I thought you could spend the night here,” Arthur finally said.
The servant looked down at Arthur's hand on his wrist then back up with a slightly dazed expression.
"Are you sure?"
“My bed’s certainly more comfortable than yours. You could at least get some advantages from this whole thing, don’t you think?”
Merlin tilted his head and scrutinised him. For a moment, Arthur was afraid he would protest that he didn’t need privileges instead of hearing his words as the "I need you to stay" he really meant. Then Merlin grinned.
“I’ve always wanted to try that bed.”
“Make yourself comfortable.”
With that, Arthur disappeared behind the screen to change into his night clothes, conscious this new-found modesty was ridiculous after having Merlin dress him for years but unable to refrain it. When he went from behind the screen he found the servant lying under the blankets, at the very edge of the bed. Arthur lied down on the other side.
“So, does the kingly bed live up to your expectations?”
“I could totally get used to it.”
“Mmm, good. Though if you insist on staying on the edge, I predict your fall will wake me up in the middle of the night.”
Merlin stared and Arthur cursed him a little for making him rephrase his words more directly.
“Come on, I’m not going to eat you.”
The servant moved closer, stopping inches away from Arthur. It would be a good time to talk about touching but the king was still loath to do so. Instead, he reached for Merlin’s arm and let his fingertips brush over his servant’s skin. He was beautiful in his borrowed nightshirt. Arthur might not want to have sex with him yet his appearance wasn’t lost on him. He appreciated the way Merlin’s body had changed over the years to become that of a man. He liked the curves of his muscles and wondered how those strong arms would feel holding him. He liked the fullness of his lips and missed feeling them on his. He liked the deep blue of his eyes and wished they didn’t hold so much surprise.
“I thought you didn’t…” Merlin began but trailed off.
Arthur sighed. Words would be needed, after all.
“I like touching you. It’s nothing sexual. It’s just…”
“Cuddling?”
“I’m the king, Merlin. I don’t cuddle.”
His nose wrinkled in disdain on the last word. Merlin grinned.
“That’s a shame because I’m all for cuddling.”
Arthur rolled his eyes but refrained from complaining further when Merlin wrapped an arm around him and pulled him closer. It was strange how new this intimacy felt when Arthur was so used to his servant’s proximity. He could get used to that too. To the heat of Merlin’s body against his and the strength of his embrace.
As his fingers traced patterns on Merlin’s back, he felt a pang of guilt, though. A body as glorious as Merlin’s deserved more than what he could give. And that would always be there, between them, that one thing Arthur couldn’t do when he’d given everything away to make Merlin happy. Or more exactly, that thing he could do but had no interest in. It felt egoistical not to give Merlin what he needed yet at the same time, he knew it wouldn't even work. He simply didn't get it and if he could pretend, he knew Merlin would see straight through it. But how long would that last? Merlin might have known what he'd get himself into but how long before it became too much for him?
Arthur must have tensed because the servant said: "don't think too much, you're going to hurt yourself."
The king groaned. He tightened his embrace on Merlin’s waist and nuzzled his neck.
"What is it?" Merlin asked.
"Nothing."
The servant sighed. He wriggled free of Arthur's embrace and moved back until he could look him into the eye.
"I know you, Arthur. I know you hate to talk about feelings but I need you to try. I don't need eloquent speeches. I just need to know that if there's something wrong or something you need or if I do something that makes you uncomfortable, you'll tell me. I want to make this work but I need your help."
He was right, of course. For weeks, Merlin had thought Arthur didn't like physical intimacy and the king could see how their relationship would never work if that went on. It wouldn't be easy, though.
"Will you do the same? If something bothers you, will you tell me?"
"Communication, Arthur. Ever heard the word before? I'll give you a hint: it goes both ways."
Arthur rolled his eyes.
"I'm so glad you're here to educate me."
Merlin snorted.
"See, you need me."
"That, I do," Arthur whispered, surprised by his own words and the seriousness of his tone.
His stupefaction was mirrored on Merlin's face. But then, the servant smiled, that fond smile Arthur had learned to recognise as his own and the king's heart swelled. He closed the short distance between them and captured Merlin's lips.
It had been a while since their last kiss. Arthur revelled in the feeling, in Merlin's tongue caressing his, in his hand on his neck. He definitely should initiate that more often. It wasn't so hard after all. It wasn't a display of weakness, not when they were alone anyway.
Merlin had a goofy smile when they broke the kiss. It made Arthur want to tease him for being so sappy but he was oddly proud too. He could make Merlin happy. He smiled back - not at all mushily, he was the king - and brushed the servant's cheek.
"I know you too," he said after a pause. "You're one to keep things from me to avoid hurting me, even if it hurts you. I don't want any of that anymore. I want you to be happy and if… If you need something I can't give you, I want to find a way to-"
"You're still worried about that?"
"Of course, I am."
"Arthur..." Merlin breathed. He took the king's hand in his. "I've not been with a man for years now, because there was only one I wanted and I couldn't have him. I can do without sex. Yes, I'd like to have sex with you and yes, it's frustrating sometimes but I won't let that draw me away from you. If I was only after sex then I'd have found a nice serving boy and I'd see him whenever one of us felt like it. That's not what I want. It's not your body I'm interested in. I love you."
Arthur looked away. In his limited understanding of how other people worked, he'd always imagined sex was something they couldn't dissociate from love. That they couldn't love without showing their feelings through sex. That they needed the intimacy and connexion. He was ashamed to be called wrong. Or maybe it was only that Merlin was different. He didn't really care, right now.
"Do you think you can get that into that thick skull of yours?" the servant asked.
"I'll try. I'm afraid I might need periodical reminders, though."
"I guess I can provide that."
Arthur smiled and squeezed Merlin's hand. He let his thumb stroke his wrist and admired Merlin's contented smile. Then the servant yawned, reminding Arthur of his tiredness.
"That's enough communication for tonight. You need to sleep."
"Mmh yeah."
"Come here."
Arthur rolled on his back and dragged Merlin with him so that the servant was curled against him, his head resting on his chest.
"Good night."
"Good night, Arthur."
"Merlin?"
"Yes?"
"I love you too."
Epilogue
Arthur read his speech for the fifth time hoping it would help him find a conclusion. It didn't. The words were blurry and his mind wandering far away from the task at hand. When Merlin walked passed him to close the curtain, he gave up and put an arm around his consort's waist to pull him close. Pressing his face against his stomach he inhaled the comforting, earthy scent of Merlin's skin through his new tunic of court sorcerer. They might be distant in public, or at least as much as they used to before their hand-fasting, but in the privacy of their chambers Arthur had learned to let go of his royal façade and found he enjoyed nothing more than the comfort of Merlin’s embrace. Not that he gave in every time he felt like it, he had a reputation to maintain, after all, even with his lover. But when, like now, he was tired and doubts ate him away, he found letting his guards down was worth more than trying to keep up the pretence.
"I don't think Eadric is happy here," he whispered after a while, finally giving voice to his fears.
"Give him time. For now, he misses his family and Camelot doesn't feel like home yet. But once he gets used to his new life, I'm sure he'll like it. And he'll see you're giving him an opportunity that as a second son, he'd never had in Caerleon."
"Yeah… Maybe… I think he prefers you to me, though."
Merlin chuckled. Arthur could feel the vibrations against his face.
"That's because I make butterflies for him and you make him crawl in the dirt."
"Do I need to remind you you're supposed to teach him about magic?"
"And that's what I do. Let me chose my methods."
"Alright."
Merlin's fingers treaded into his king's hair, massaging his skull, and Arthur let out a content sigh. He'd never imagined raising a child would be so exhausting. Well, he'd never imagined he would raise a child one day. It had been Merlin's idea to foster Queen Annis’ nephew and take him as the heir to the throne, strengthening that way Camelot's alliance to Caerleon. For now, though, the boy had a hard time getting used to his new home and Arthur wasn't as relaxed about it than Merlin. Eadric was the future of the kingdom, after all.
"You should go to sleep, you look exhausted."
"I haven't finished my speech."
"We'll have a look at it tomorrow. We’ll have plenty of time before the feast."
Arthur nodded. He pulled away and made for the wardrobe to change to his night clothes but Merlin grabbed him by the wrist to pull him close and kiss him. Merlin loved to kiss him. Arthur didn’t see a reason to complain.
A moment later, when they climbed into bed, Arthur held his consort close, spooning him against his chest, tangling their legs. They might not have sex but they didn’t need it to be intimate. It hadn’t always been easy, of course. Their tendency to disregard their needs or discomfort to please the other had done nothing to make their lives easier nor had the weight of Arthur’s crown and the whispered words in the halls of the castle. There had been fights and moments they’d felt like it wasn’t worth the trouble yet they’d kept trying their hardest to make it work. They always would. Because, in the end, what they had was too precious not to.
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 7182
Beta: Thanks to aeris444
Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or any of the recognisable characters. They all belong to the BBC and Shine TV. I only borrowed them.
Summary: Arthur's known he's different since his teen years, when everyone around him was talking about sex and he just didn't get it. When he married Gwen, he hoped things would change but everything went awry. Now the council is pressing him to find a queen and produce an heir and he finds himself unable to go through another disaster. In his quest for a cure, he'll find something else entirely.
Note: If you're uneasy about the word cure in the summary, I just want to make it clear that the fic never implies that a cure for asexuality exists or that it's an illness or anything along those lines.
Also, I'm totally aware that my characters confuse sexual attraction and libido but since Arthur experiences none of them and given the settings, I couldn't really make them knowledgeable of everything about asexuality. I hope that won't offend anyone. (If you have no idea what I'm talking about but are interested in knowing more here's a glossary of terms related to asexuality and if you want to know more about asexuality in general, this is a very good place to start).
Finally, the first part of the title comes from a song about asexuality by Dearlie. Chek it out here
The door closed behind Arthur with a thump. A glance taught him Merlin was polishing his armour by the fire, apparently absorbed by his task yet Arthur knew his servant was discreetly observing him, ready to provide his help if it was needed. In that moment, the king almost regretted his manservant from the early days, forgetful and lazy. Not that Merlin wasn't forgetful and lazy anymore but he had improved. Above all he'd learned to read the king's mind and that was exactly what Arthur didn't want right now. All he wanted was to be alone. It took his lifetime of training not to let his royal mask fall as he sat at the table, holding a sigh.
"I'd like a bath," he said instead, doing his best not to let his state of mind show through his voice.
Merlin looked up from his work with a smile.
"The quick or the long way?"
"You're becoming lazy."
"I'm only thinking about your comfort."
"As if." Arthur wasn't in the mood to be patient, though, so he added: "The quick way."
Merlin's eyes turned gold then he grinned, full of pride. The sight warmed Arthur's heart a little yet he knew it wouldn't last.
"Your bath's ready, sire."
"Don't think I'll allow that to become a habit," the king said as he stood and walked to the adjacent room.
"Fear not. There's no risk, what with you saying that every time. I don't think it's a good sign that you've started repeating yourself, you know."
"Idiot."
The teasing was half-hearted and Arthur knew Merlin had noticed - Merlin always noticed - so he quickly entered the room and closed the door behind him. He leaned against it and sighed. Finally, he could let go, let his face crumble, let his shoulders hunch. He closed his eyes for a brief moment but the prospect of a hot bath was too appealing for him to push it back any longer. He undressed and walked to the bathtub, filled with steaming water. He immerged himself with a relieved sigh and closed his eyes again.
How things had changed in five years, he thought. First, Gwen's - the queen's - flight with Lancelot and then the discovery of Merlin's magic. Both had hurt, both had been a betrayal, but Arthur wasn’t angry with any of them anymore. If anything he was angry with himself. Angry because he hadn’t seen what Merlin had been hiding for so long nor everything he’d done for him. Angry because he’d failed to make Gwen happy when that was all he wanted. Of course, he’d failed. And now, the nobles were constantly reminding him he had to find a queen, to produce an heir. That part hadn't changed in five years. The future of the kingdom was at stake, they said. As if Arthur could forget.
The nobles didn’t know the reason behind the queen's disappearance, though. Some of them thought the pressure had been too much on her peasant's shoulders, that she'd thought a queen's life was all about gold, silk and feasts. Some, curse them, would have even been happy about her flight had it not altered the king's image so deeply. They all underestimated Gwen. She was strong. True, the pressure had been great but she could take it. Or she would have if the disaster of her marriage with Arthur hadn't weighed her down. It wasn't that he hadn’t loved her, oh no. He had. Fervently. It was just that… His love hadn’t shown in bed. At first, Gwen had thought it was her fault. Then when despite all her efforts nothing had changed, she’d suspected Arthur of not loving her. Their trust and understanding had crumbled. She loved him, he’d never doubted that, but that wasn’t enough. She was unhappy, felt neglected and lonely. She didn’t understand because Arthur couldn’t bring himself to talk about it. He’d felt guilty and ashamed. When he'd discovered she'd fled with Lancelot, he was hurt but almost relieved this hardship was put to an end.
Of course, it wasn't. They were rumours. It was, after all, a humiliation for a king to see his queen flee in the arms of another man. Some had adopted the same point of view as the nobles. The others had spoken of the king's inability to honour the queen in bed, be it because he preferred men or because he was impotent. And despite a lifetime of learning not to give credit to rumours, they hurt deeply.
Between those who thought he wasn’t fit for the throne and those who worried about the absence of an heir, the months following Gwen’s departure had been though on Arthur. If he'd managed, by his actions and words, to prove his legitimacy, deep inside he'd started to crumble.
The truth was he would never give an heir to Camelot and not, as the rumour said, because he favoured men or because he physically couldn’t. He'd first noticed he was different in his teenage years, when he’d heard the squires his age talk about women and what they wanted to do with them. Arthur didn’t understand because he'd found some women, and even some men, beautiful but the things the other boys talked about had never crossed his mind. He'd thought back then that it was because he was a prince. He was, somehow, above other men and their low inclinations. He’d dreamt of rescuing a captive princess, as in the tales, or failing that, of courtship, of love but never of what happened in bed between husband and wife. He'd just assumed it was some sort of obligation, something you did when you wanted to have a child but nothing more. He'd understood something was wrong with him when Uther, in a very awkward speech, had warned him against bastards and told him that, if he had to go to the whores, he’d better make sure no one knew about it. Arthur had simply not understood. The thought of going to the whores had never even crossed his mind and neither had the one of bedding a serving girl - or boy, for that matter. He hadn’t even thought about the trouble a bastard would bring. And now that Uther mentioned it, Arthur really couldn’t comprehend why anyone would take such a risk nor what this need his father was talking about was. He'd almost wanted to ask. Of course, he hadn't. His father’s words had been enough to make him understand there was something wrong with him. Uther might be glad his son behaved but not that he was different. Plus, the talk had been mortifying enough for Arthur to want not to prolong it.
He’d listened more after that, to the squires and the knights and their bawdy tales but still found he didn't understand. For a brief moment, he’d thought about going to the whores after all, just once. Maybe his sheltered upbringing was the only cause to his difference and once he'd see a woman naked he'd feel the same way as the other men. Or maybe he just needed to experience that pleasure they talked about to desire it. He’d never executed his plan, though, too afraid of the consequences. So he’d continued to listen when he could, when the men were too drunk to rule their speech in front of him. He’d taken the task as another object of study along military strategy and court etiquette, yet he’d never grasped it. He'd found hope again when he’d learned that men would touch themselves when they didn't have a woman to pleasure them. He'd tried, thinking he would finally feel that ecstasy some men ruined their lives for, thinking he would finally understand. He'd felt something all right but that had been far from the transcendental experience he'd thought it would be. He'd lied in his bed, sticky and slightly ashamed, even more at a loss than before. Surely that couldn't be what other men were lusting after. That wasn't unpleasant but it wasn't better than say, the taste of a good roast or the exhaustion after a hard training. And so, so much briefer. He must have done something wrong. He’d tried to understand what, which wasn't easy since he couldn't ask questions. So he’d repeated the experience a few times, each of which had left him underwhelmed. When his failure to understand had hurt too much, he’d stopped trying and figured it would be different once he’d find a wife.
It wasn't. His first night with Gwen had been a disaster. Then, once he’d understood what was expected of him, when Gwen had this way of stroking him - or even, to his stupor, take him into her mouth - he’d found he could do it. He could feel something warm inside his belly. He could honour her. Or at least, find release inside her. Whether she enjoyed it was another question and maybe the heart of the matter. That and the fact that he’d never initiated this lovemaking. She always had to coax him into it and was unsuccessful more often than not. It was simply too much of a chore for him. Too painful to see Gwen faking her pleasure. At least, she was with a proper man, now.
Arthur felt tears prickling his eyes at the memories. The years hadn't softened the failure. Especially not today, when again the council had repeated its wish to see the king take a wife. He knew the reasonable choice would be to listen to them, to find a queen and force himself to bed her until she was pregnant and to put aside all thoughts of how much he hated doing that. For the sake of the kingdom, that was what he should do, to go through the same disaster again. Yet he couldn’t bear the thought of it. He couldn’t do that to another woman. He couldn’t do that to himself.
He fought against the tears but they were stronger. They found their way on his cheeks to join the water of his bath. He could feel the weight of the kingdom on his shoulders, a kingdom he'd made thrive. Yet all his work would go to waste if he couldn’t produce an heir. There would be blood and wars and divisions of the lands. All because he failed at something so natural to everyone else. He bit his lip to hold back a sob.
Not for the first time, he wondered if he was worthy of the throne despite his condition. He was, after all, less than a man, unable to give Camelot what she needed. How long before the nobles rebelled? How long before the rumours became too strong? He had to find a way. And crying would solve nothing.
He took deep breaths, focussing on willing the tears to stop, cursing himself for his weakness. When they finally did, he leaned into the tub to let water cover his face. He stayed like that until his lungs screamed for air, letting them burn. When he re-emerged, all trace of his moment of vulnerability had disappeared from his face.
Once dressed, he went back to his chambers to see Merlin had set his dinner on the table. He sat down and began eating without tasting the food. It almost made him want to gag but anything else would have alerted Merlin that something was wrong and he couldn’t allow that. He needed to be strong, keep up the appearances even when inside he was falling apart. He was so tired, though, of feeling broken, inept and unworthy. He’d have done anything to be normal. Even ask for help.
It wasn’t the first time he’d thought about asking Merlin to find a cure, only he could never bring himself to do it. It was one thing to be healed after a nasty blow in training or helped when he couldn’t find the perfect wording for a speech but a complete different one to talk about his inabilities in bed. It felt too intimate. He was too ashamed. Yet what other choice did he have? If anyone could find a cure it was Merlin, the greatest sorcerer on the land and the only person Arthur trusted enough to confide this ailment to. So he braced himself and even though his insides were churning, his voice was steady when he called Merlin’s name.
The servant looked up from the armour he was still polishing. Arthur wished he hadn't.
"Yes, sire?"
"I need a remedy."
This time, Merlin was on his feet, walking to face Arthur.
"Are you ill?"
The king ignored the worried look on his face. He stared at a point right behind his servant's shoulder, fighting for his voice to stay calm and his hands steady.
"Not exactly. I need something to rekindle one's lust for women. I am not impotent, is that clear? I merely seem to have lost desire for the process."
He didn’t look at Merlin, not even when the servant failed to answer.
"Surely, you understand this matter must stay strictly between us."
"Of course."
"That means I don't want Gaius to know, either."
"As you wish."
"That'll be all for tonight."
Merlin didn’t leave. He just stood there and though Arthur still couldn’t bear looking at him, from the corner of his eye, he could see him scrutinizing him. As the silence stretched, he half expected Merlin to burst into laughter.
"What is it?" he asked, a bit harsher than he intended.
"Are you… Pardon me for asking but… Are you certain this… Condition doesn't come from a desire for men instead?"
"I am very certain."
"Arthur, you know I wouldn't-"
"I know. But I assure you it's not the case."
Merlin’s stare was becoming too much too bear. He felt naked, vulnerable, and something inside him revolted against it, something dark growing in his chest that would cause him to hurt his servant to save face. Merlin didn’t deserve that.
"Now, leave me, please."
Fortunately, the servant didn’t protest. He bowed reluctantly and turned on his heels. Only when the door closed behind him did Arthur stopped staring at his imaginary point and let his shoulders hunch.
***
Merlin finished arranging the bowls containing Arthur's dinner on the table before producing a vial from his pocket. He rested it next to the king's cup.
"I found something new."
"Will it work this time?" Arthur asked coldly. He was tired of trying new treatments, of looking at every woman on his way with the hope something had changed inside him only to be disappointed.
"I'm doing everything I can, sire."
Merlin could barely contain the hurt in his voice. Arthur sighed. He waved his hand as if to take away to bite of his words.
"I know." Then eyeing the huge amount of food on the table, he added: "Sit and eat with me."
Meals taken together had become more and more frequent lately and not only because Arthur felt guilty not to be able to give the powerful sorcerer risking his life for him a better position, the new law on magic being so long to put into shape. The king liked Merlin's presence, his babbling and their banter. He liked his silence, too, because Merlin always knew when they were needed. Arthur felt comfortable around him, too comfortable maybe and he feared to know why.
Surprisingly enough, Merlin sat down but didn't touch the food. That didn't bode well.
"Arthur, I meant to ask. Is this condition of yours the reason why you're not seeking a wife?"
"It almost seems you can think, Merlin."
Ignoring his sarcasm, Merlin continued: "But you could… I mean some lords would be happy to see you marry their daughter to strengthen their alliance with Camelot. They wouldn't have to know before-"
"We saw how well that worked with Guinevere."
"But it's different. A princess is brought up knowing she'll be married to whomever her father choses in the best interest of his kingdom. She'll not have the same expectations than Gwen had when you chose to go against all the rules to marry her."
"Are you even listening to yourself? I'm not marrying a woman knowing she'll spend every day of her life unhappy because of me. I always said I'd marry out of love and not obligation and that won't change."
Or would it? Arthur wasn't so sure anymore. Maybe his convictions were only childish and he had to put the welfare of the kingdom before his and his eventual wife's happiness. Yet he wasn't ready to come to that. Not yet.
"So you did love Gwen."
"Of course I did! I just didn't want to have sex with her!"
Merlin flinched.
"Sorry, I'm just… Trying to understand."
"I don't think there's anything to understand."
He tried to keep defeatism out of his voice but Merlin's expression turned concerned. Arthur hated it as much as he loved it. He didn't feel worthy of Merlin's attention or his loyalty yet he craved it. Sometimes, when the pressure was too much, when there was a decision to make and he was so terrified of making the wrong choice, when a meeting with the council had been particularly demanding, he felt Merlin's trust was the only thing that kept him from falling apart. Now more than ever. Sometimes, he wished he could let go for a while, put his head on Merlin's shoulder and think of nothing, just for a moment. He wasn't entirely sure Merlin would object. Yet he couldn't. He couldn't bear the thought of ruining what they had like he had ruined his marriage. He couldn't bear the thought of hurting Merlin. Besides, that would only make the matter of finding a wife more complicated.
"Anyway, that’s not what I meant,” Merlin went on. “You could find a woman willing to give up that part of her life to marry you and you could both be happy."
Arthur snorted.
"I don't think so. Not if she isn't only after the power or the gold and I would certainly not allow such a woman to sit on the throne of Camelot."
"Or if she loves you."
"So now you're implying Gwen didn't love me. Thanks, Merlin, you're such a good help."
The servant dropped his gaze, mumbling apologies and once more, Arthur regretted his words. He knew Merlin did his best. He knew he understood how difficult the matter was for the king or he wouldn't have treaded so carefully. When he spoke again, his voice was softer.
"Eat, you must be hungry."
"I wish I could help."
"I know."
For a moment, it seemed Merlin wanted to push to matter further but he gave up and reluctantly cut a slice of meat. He was soon busy with his meal, though without a trace of his usual appetite.
***
That night, when Merlin rested the vial next to Arthur's dinner, the king felt he'd seen this scene a thousand times. Nothing had worked. Seeing how things were, Arthur didn't even think it would help solve his problem if it had. There was only one person who caught his eye, only one who occupied his mind, and it wasn't a noble lady. It wasn't even a woman.
"You can take that away," he said.
"Sire?"
"I want to stop the treatment."
"But-"
"It's no use." Seeing the pain in Merlin's eyes, he added: "You did everything you could. If a sorcerer as powerful as you can’t find a cure, it's time to admit there's nothing one can do to fix me."
"Arthur..."
The king turned his gaze away, unable to stand the concern written on Merlin’s face. He’d seen it too often lately. It must be said that Arthur’s morale had dropped a little more with every ineffective treatment. He’d come to wonder if he should maybe abdicate and designate a successor. That would be unheard of in the Pendragon line yet it would be a lesser humiliation than that of his secret being discovered. He’d been on the verge of announcing his decision to Merlin one night when he’d felt particularly vulnerable yet he knew his servant would have protested. He would have said Arthur was a good king, that he didn’t need a queen to rule. And he would have been right. Pendragons didn’t give up that easily.
"It’s alright. I’ll tell the council there's only space in my heart for Camelot. If I word it well enough, I should be able to limit the rumours.”
"So you're choosing to live your life alone?"
"It's better than risking another fiasco."
"But you're lonely."
Trust Merlin to bring Arthur's happiness before the matter of his non-existent heir. It warmed the king's heart to know that a least one person in the kingdom cared for his well-being.
"It doesn't matter."
"You can't say that!"
"Of course, I can and I'm saying it: I won't marry again. Now the only thing I need is to find an heir to throne."
"I don't care about your bloody heir! I'm talking about your happiness!"
"Well, maybe it's not my destiny to be happy! Maybe this is how the gods chose to show me I should devote my life to Camelot and nothing else."
"Where are your grand speeches about love? Gone?"
"Yes and for the better. It's time I learned a king can't have everything he wants. His duty comes first."
"That's not true! You can be a good king and a happy man! You know it. You just need to-"
"Oh leave it! Why does it even matter? Why talk about my happiness when I can't make anyone happy?"
The words were out before Arthur could hold them back. He hadn’t meant to appear so vulnerable to Merlin and judging by the way his eyes grew wide, the servant hadn’t expect it either.
There was a beat during which Arthur went to the window to escape Merlin's stare. He hated letting himself go this way but that was what his servant did to him. He lulled him into a sense of comfort and security, brought his defences down until Arthur was laid bare. It frightened him and yet it fascinated him.
"Have you forgotten the look on this woman's face a fortnight ago when you accepted her plead to lower her taxes because her husband had died and she could barely feed her children?" Merlin finally whispered. "Or that servant you helped carrying her basket because it was too heavy for her?"
"That wasn't what I meant."
"I know but it matters too."
Arthur didn't answer. He didn't want to have this conversation, not even with Merlin. Pendragons didn't discuss their feelings. Pendragons weren't weak half-men. He was about to order Merlin to leave when the latter asked: "Have you thought about what I said? That someone who loves you could accept to give up this part of their life?"
"Don't be so naive. Love can't solve everything. And it certainly can't fill the absence of something that important."
"It's not that important for everyone."
"Excuse me if I don't consider you as the best expert on that matter. Have you even had a relationship?"
That was low and Arthur immediately regretted it. Why was it that he always managed to hurt Merlin's feelings when he was uncomfortable?
"I was too busy saving the life of the greatest prat of the land. Have you considered Gwen might have left because you're so fucking rude?"
Arthur's throat closed. Though they never talked about it, he knew Merlin visited Gwen sometimes. The implication of his servant's words left him breathless, shattered. He heard the chair scrape against the ground then Merlin's footsteps move away.
"Is that what she said?" he asked his voice rough with the tears he was fighting to hold back.
The footsteps stopped. There was a pause before Merlin answered.
"No. We never talk about you."
"Is that what you think then?"
There was a sigh then Merlin walked closer.
"Sometimes… Sometimes you say things that hurt."
"I'm sorry.” And then, since he was vulnerable enough not to care anymore, he added: “I'm sorry you have to put up with me."
"I don't have to."
"But you do."
"Yeah… And sometimes I say things I shouldn't, too."
There was another pause while the only sound was Arthur’s deep breaths as he tried to will away the tears and the lump in his throat. In the end, Merlin was the first to speak.
"I meant what I said earlier. You shouldn't give up. That you have no desire for sex doesn't mean you can't be loved."
"How can you be so sure?"
"I-I just… am."
Arthur turned around, slightly stunned. He'd been suspecting Merlin's devotion didn't have everything to do with loyalty for a while now but he'd always put the thought aside, half because it was more convenient, half because he was afraid to be wrong. Now again, he feared he was giving Merlin's words a meaning they didn't hold. Yet the servant's gaze fixed on the floor and his slight blush seemed to indicate he wasn't.
"Anyway," the servant began with a cheerful tone that sounded fake, "just, think about it, right? You need someone to love and support you."
"I already have that, haven't I?"
Merlin's eyes grew wide.
"What do you mean?"
Arthur didn't answer. He simply couldn't, not if there was the slightest chance he was wrong. His comment had been risky enough. That might make him a coward but he couldn't handle rejection right now, not when he was so vulnerable. So he waited for Merlin to work it out and to confirm his suspicion if it was right.
As silence stretched, Arthur felt his throat close again. He turned to the window, hoping it was enough to hide his shattering heart.
"Nothing. That'll be all, Merlin."
He was so stupid. Of course, Merlin didn't love him. How could he love someone who was missing pieces?
"Arthur..."
"I'll be alright. Just go."
A hand on his shoulder.
"No, you won't. You're not."
Arthur didn't trust his voice enough to disabuse him.
"You were right, you already have someone to love you. Only I… I'm afraid that's not the person you want."
"You'll need to be more specific."
"Don't make me say it if… If you…"
The king's breath caught. He turned around, his heart racing, to face Merlin looking at him with a glint of hope in his eyes.
"If I what?" he breathed.
"If you don't want to hear it."
Arthur's fingertips brushed Merlin's cheek.
"I do."
"I love you."
"Even with… Everything you know?"
"You already know I’d give my life for you, why do sound so surprised?"
“Isn’t that something you need?”
“Not as much as I need you, no.”
"You say that now but-"
"We can make it work. I mean, if you want to."
Arthur wasn't sure how to answer. Saying he wanted to didn’t seem enough but other declarations were too much for him. Not that he didn't love Merlin, simply he had laid bare his soul more than he'd intended to already and wasn't sure he could take that step. Not right now. So he leaned forward until his lips met Merlin's.
They remained motionless, their lips barely touching, for a few heartbeats before Arthur understood Merlin was letting him take the initiatives. The realisation made Arthur's heart swell. He cupped Merlin's face with his hands and let his tongue caress his lips until they parted. Merlin's fingers gripped the king's tunic as their tongues met. It was a slow, well-behaved kiss yet it made Arthur's inside melt. He felt a bit weird for nothing wanting more - from what he'd heard and the time that had passed since he'd found out his feelings for Merlin, he should be tearing his clothes apart by now - but it didn't hurt as much as it had before. Merlin knew. Merlin accepted him the way he was.
"You know, we can skip the kissing part if you don't like it," Merlin said when they parted.
"Am I that bad? We really need to work on your habit to insult me."
"That's not what meant!" Merlin protested, his face heating up. He was going to add something but Arthur cut him off.
"I know."
"Prat!"
Arthur chuckled.
"Seriously, though, if you're not comfortable with something, tell me, right?"
The king nodded, trailing his fingertips on Merlin’s cheek. He wanted to say how grateful he was, how much Merlin’s attentions and comprehensiveness touched him but he couldn’t find the words. Instead, not for the first time, he swore to himself he’d do everything he could to see that precious man happy.
"It'll take sometimes but we'll figure it out," the servant added.
"Thank you, Merlin."
"What for?"
"For… Well, being you."
The servant grinned, that radiant grin that crinkled his eyes and dimpled his cheeks. The one that never failed to make Arthur slightly weak in the knees, not that he'd ever admit that, of course. He didn’t share Merlin’s optimism, not entirely. The wound caused by the disaster with Gwen wasn’t healed. He was still afraid this would end in tears. But he would try, he would fight to make it work, to be the man Merlin deserved. Their relationship wouldn’t solve the absence of a queen or an heir but he wanted to forget, just for a moment, while Merlin hugged him tightly.
***
Arthur rolled the scroll he’d been working on and watched as Merlin knelt to stoke the fire. It was the last step of his night-time routine. In a minute he would be gone, just after a quick kiss, if the king was lucky. It had been a few weeks since that thing between them had started. Arthur didn’t know how to call it. They barely touched and didn’t kiss much either. In fact, he wasn’t sure what had changed between us except that they took all their meals together. The way Merlin looked at him, maybe, the unrestrained affection in his eyes. It wasn’t that Arthur had expected their lives to turn upside down or the both of them to suddenly act like lovesick teenagers but this whole thing left him slightly underwhelmed. It wasn’t exactly that Merlin was distant, either. No, they were as close as they’d been before. Yet he could tell Merlin paid attention not to invade his personal space more than he did usually as if he feared it would make Arthur uncomfortable. The king wasn't sure where that idea came from, though he'd come to realise he never initiated contact either. Only it wasn't because he didn't like it. He just wasn’t used to show his affection and the longer it went, the harder it became. He wasn’t only awkward anymore, he was also afraid he’d gotten everything wrong again and Merlin wasn’t giving him space but was disgusted or regretted their arrangement. And even though his fears didn’t survive a loving gaze from Merlin, they came back more and more often.
Finally, Merlin stood up. He turned to Arthur, presumably to wish him good night, but a single look at the king made his brow furrow. He sat opposite to Arthur.
"Is there something wrong?"
It wasn't usual for him to be so direct. He probably knew he had a better chance of making Arthur open up with a more subtle approach. Yet the day had been long, spent listening to reports from knights and complains from nobles, and he must be tired. Arthur could see it in his eyes, even though he tried his best to hide it. That might be what made him put a hand on Merlin's wrist and stroke it gently with his thumb. Merlin smiled.
“I thought you could spend the night here,” Arthur finally said.
The servant looked down at Arthur's hand on his wrist then back up with a slightly dazed expression.
"Are you sure?"
“My bed’s certainly more comfortable than yours. You could at least get some advantages from this whole thing, don’t you think?”
Merlin tilted his head and scrutinised him. For a moment, Arthur was afraid he would protest that he didn’t need privileges instead of hearing his words as the "I need you to stay" he really meant. Then Merlin grinned.
“I’ve always wanted to try that bed.”
“Make yourself comfortable.”
With that, Arthur disappeared behind the screen to change into his night clothes, conscious this new-found modesty was ridiculous after having Merlin dress him for years but unable to refrain it. When he went from behind the screen he found the servant lying under the blankets, at the very edge of the bed. Arthur lied down on the other side.
“So, does the kingly bed live up to your expectations?”
“I could totally get used to it.”
“Mmm, good. Though if you insist on staying on the edge, I predict your fall will wake me up in the middle of the night.”
Merlin stared and Arthur cursed him a little for making him rephrase his words more directly.
“Come on, I’m not going to eat you.”
The servant moved closer, stopping inches away from Arthur. It would be a good time to talk about touching but the king was still loath to do so. Instead, he reached for Merlin’s arm and let his fingertips brush over his servant’s skin. He was beautiful in his borrowed nightshirt. Arthur might not want to have sex with him yet his appearance wasn’t lost on him. He appreciated the way Merlin’s body had changed over the years to become that of a man. He liked the curves of his muscles and wondered how those strong arms would feel holding him. He liked the fullness of his lips and missed feeling them on his. He liked the deep blue of his eyes and wished they didn’t hold so much surprise.
“I thought you didn’t…” Merlin began but trailed off.
Arthur sighed. Words would be needed, after all.
“I like touching you. It’s nothing sexual. It’s just…”
“Cuddling?”
“I’m the king, Merlin. I don’t cuddle.”
His nose wrinkled in disdain on the last word. Merlin grinned.
“That’s a shame because I’m all for cuddling.”
Arthur rolled his eyes but refrained from complaining further when Merlin wrapped an arm around him and pulled him closer. It was strange how new this intimacy felt when Arthur was so used to his servant’s proximity. He could get used to that too. To the heat of Merlin’s body against his and the strength of his embrace.
As his fingers traced patterns on Merlin’s back, he felt a pang of guilt, though. A body as glorious as Merlin’s deserved more than what he could give. And that would always be there, between them, that one thing Arthur couldn’t do when he’d given everything away to make Merlin happy. Or more exactly, that thing he could do but had no interest in. It felt egoistical not to give Merlin what he needed yet at the same time, he knew it wouldn't even work. He simply didn't get it and if he could pretend, he knew Merlin would see straight through it. But how long would that last? Merlin might have known what he'd get himself into but how long before it became too much for him?
Arthur must have tensed because the servant said: "don't think too much, you're going to hurt yourself."
The king groaned. He tightened his embrace on Merlin’s waist and nuzzled his neck.
"What is it?" Merlin asked.
"Nothing."
The servant sighed. He wriggled free of Arthur's embrace and moved back until he could look him into the eye.
"I know you, Arthur. I know you hate to talk about feelings but I need you to try. I don't need eloquent speeches. I just need to know that if there's something wrong or something you need or if I do something that makes you uncomfortable, you'll tell me. I want to make this work but I need your help."
He was right, of course. For weeks, Merlin had thought Arthur didn't like physical intimacy and the king could see how their relationship would never work if that went on. It wouldn't be easy, though.
"Will you do the same? If something bothers you, will you tell me?"
"Communication, Arthur. Ever heard the word before? I'll give you a hint: it goes both ways."
Arthur rolled his eyes.
"I'm so glad you're here to educate me."
Merlin snorted.
"See, you need me."
"That, I do," Arthur whispered, surprised by his own words and the seriousness of his tone.
His stupefaction was mirrored on Merlin's face. But then, the servant smiled, that fond smile Arthur had learned to recognise as his own and the king's heart swelled. He closed the short distance between them and captured Merlin's lips.
It had been a while since their last kiss. Arthur revelled in the feeling, in Merlin's tongue caressing his, in his hand on his neck. He definitely should initiate that more often. It wasn't so hard after all. It wasn't a display of weakness, not when they were alone anyway.
Merlin had a goofy smile when they broke the kiss. It made Arthur want to tease him for being so sappy but he was oddly proud too. He could make Merlin happy. He smiled back - not at all mushily, he was the king - and brushed the servant's cheek.
"I know you too," he said after a pause. "You're one to keep things from me to avoid hurting me, even if it hurts you. I don't want any of that anymore. I want you to be happy and if… If you need something I can't give you, I want to find a way to-"
"You're still worried about that?"
"Of course, I am."
"Arthur..." Merlin breathed. He took the king's hand in his. "I've not been with a man for years now, because there was only one I wanted and I couldn't have him. I can do without sex. Yes, I'd like to have sex with you and yes, it's frustrating sometimes but I won't let that draw me away from you. If I was only after sex then I'd have found a nice serving boy and I'd see him whenever one of us felt like it. That's not what I want. It's not your body I'm interested in. I love you."
Arthur looked away. In his limited understanding of how other people worked, he'd always imagined sex was something they couldn't dissociate from love. That they couldn't love without showing their feelings through sex. That they needed the intimacy and connexion. He was ashamed to be called wrong. Or maybe it was only that Merlin was different. He didn't really care, right now.
"Do you think you can get that into that thick skull of yours?" the servant asked.
"I'll try. I'm afraid I might need periodical reminders, though."
"I guess I can provide that."
Arthur smiled and squeezed Merlin's hand. He let his thumb stroke his wrist and admired Merlin's contented smile. Then the servant yawned, reminding Arthur of his tiredness.
"That's enough communication for tonight. You need to sleep."
"Mmh yeah."
"Come here."
Arthur rolled on his back and dragged Merlin with him so that the servant was curled against him, his head resting on his chest.
"Good night."
"Good night, Arthur."
"Merlin?"
"Yes?"
"I love you too."
Epilogue
Arthur read his speech for the fifth time hoping it would help him find a conclusion. It didn't. The words were blurry and his mind wandering far away from the task at hand. When Merlin walked passed him to close the curtain, he gave up and put an arm around his consort's waist to pull him close. Pressing his face against his stomach he inhaled the comforting, earthy scent of Merlin's skin through his new tunic of court sorcerer. They might be distant in public, or at least as much as they used to before their hand-fasting, but in the privacy of their chambers Arthur had learned to let go of his royal façade and found he enjoyed nothing more than the comfort of Merlin’s embrace. Not that he gave in every time he felt like it, he had a reputation to maintain, after all, even with his lover. But when, like now, he was tired and doubts ate him away, he found letting his guards down was worth more than trying to keep up the pretence.
"I don't think Eadric is happy here," he whispered after a while, finally giving voice to his fears.
"Give him time. For now, he misses his family and Camelot doesn't feel like home yet. But once he gets used to his new life, I'm sure he'll like it. And he'll see you're giving him an opportunity that as a second son, he'd never had in Caerleon."
"Yeah… Maybe… I think he prefers you to me, though."
Merlin chuckled. Arthur could feel the vibrations against his face.
"That's because I make butterflies for him and you make him crawl in the dirt."
"Do I need to remind you you're supposed to teach him about magic?"
"And that's what I do. Let me chose my methods."
"Alright."
Merlin's fingers treaded into his king's hair, massaging his skull, and Arthur let out a content sigh. He'd never imagined raising a child would be so exhausting. Well, he'd never imagined he would raise a child one day. It had been Merlin's idea to foster Queen Annis’ nephew and take him as the heir to the throne, strengthening that way Camelot's alliance to Caerleon. For now, though, the boy had a hard time getting used to his new home and Arthur wasn't as relaxed about it than Merlin. Eadric was the future of the kingdom, after all.
"You should go to sleep, you look exhausted."
"I haven't finished my speech."
"We'll have a look at it tomorrow. We’ll have plenty of time before the feast."
Arthur nodded. He pulled away and made for the wardrobe to change to his night clothes but Merlin grabbed him by the wrist to pull him close and kiss him. Merlin loved to kiss him. Arthur didn’t see a reason to complain.
A moment later, when they climbed into bed, Arthur held his consort close, spooning him against his chest, tangling their legs. They might not have sex but they didn’t need it to be intimate. It hadn’t always been easy, of course. Their tendency to disregard their needs or discomfort to please the other had done nothing to make their lives easier nor had the weight of Arthur’s crown and the whispered words in the halls of the castle. There had been fights and moments they’d felt like it wasn’t worth the trouble yet they’d kept trying their hardest to make it work. They always would. Because, in the end, what they had was too precious not to.