Hiding Spot - Merlin - Arthur/Merlin

[toestastegood]

Title: Hiding Spot
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Word Count: 4892
Rating: PG
A/N: Written with a 10_per_genre prompt. Not true to canon in terms of the friendships between the OT4.
Summary: Merlin receives several visitors while he is hiding beneath Camelot, and Arthur's strange behaviour causes him to worry that his secret may have been discovered.


It's damp down here.

Damp and really rather unpleasant.

It sort of smells as well, if Merlin's honest. He looks down at the dirt under his fingernails and wonders how long he's been hiding down here. His stomach feels achingly empty. Sitting on the ground, Merlin rests his forehead against his raised knees and closes his eyes. He hates hiding like this. It makes him feel like a coward, lurking below Camelot until the threat has passed.

Candles flicker to offer light to his hiding spot, but the shadows still claim most of the cold space. He would resort to magic to make everything a little more comfortable, but with Gwen, Arthur and Morgana all checking in on him regularly it's too risky. He has to be careful, now more than ever. He knows why the beast is after him specifically, but they haven't worked it out yet. If he can, he'd like to keep it that way.

Far along the corridor, he hears the sound of footsteps and he twitches to attention, his shoulders squaring and his back straightening. They are human footsteps as opposed to the reptilian shuffling of the creature that is after him, but he is on guard nonetheless.

"Relax," he hears Arthur say, and the sound of Arthur's voice is enough to make him calm a little. He sits back against the wall once more and watches sullenly as Arthur strides into view, the brown material of his long coat swinging behind him. He throws a cloth sack in Merlin's direction. It thumps heavily into his arms, and Merlin's stomach rumbles in anticipation. "You look a mess."

There are hardly adequate facilities down here in the passageways beneath the castle for him to keep clean, and Merlin knows that his face is probably covered with dirt and soot. He feels messy - and he feels tired and hungry and scared, so a bit of grime is actually the last thing on his mind. "Have there been any more sightings?" he asks, hunting in the bag that Arthur had thrown to him. He grabs a nice-sized hunk of bread and pulls it into the open.

"None," Arthur says. He looks around the small enclave as if he expects to find the beast hiding somewhere in the shadows. Unsurprisingly, he comes up with nothing. "Most locals seem to think that we were successful in fighting it off with our last attack."

"You don't believe them," Merlin states. He can tell as much from the expression on Arthur's face and finds himself incredibly glad for it. It isn't often that he finds Arthur on his side without having spent days trying to get him to listen first.

"We barely scratched it," Arthur says, "and it has your scent now. It'll be back once it works out where you are."

Merlin nods, glad that Arthur doesn't seem in a hurry to question why exactly the beast has taken such an interest in him. It's not something that he knows how to answer without having to lie until his tongue turns black.

"Is Gaius any closer to working out what it is?" Arthur asks, as if Merlin will be able to know despite having to spend all of his time hiding down here. "Or what on earth it wants with you?"

Merlin gives a shrug as if he doesn't have a clue, even though he and Gaius have already figured it out. The monster feeds from magic, draining the life from sorcerers it can find. Merlin imagines that if Uther finds out at much he will want Arthur to capture the creature to keep as a pet. He could have it sitting at the side of his throne on a leash, hunting out sorcerers in his court.

"I guess it just has good taste," he suggests with a flashing smile that is soon shut down by the disapproval in Arthur's eyes. While he knows that he and Arthur are of roughly the same age, sometimes it seems as if Arthur is possessed by the spirit of the king he will one day be: he is regal and far above any of the humour that Merlin tries to use to drag him back down to earth with the rest of them. Merlin clears his throat. "It's not been near Morgana at all, has it?" he asks, doing his best at sounding casual.

From the perplexed expression on Arthur's face, he succeeds at sounding bizarre instead, which really isn't what he had been aiming for. "Your concern for her is truly touching," Arthur says. He doesn't sound touched at all. He sounds a little bit disgusted, truth be told.

"I was just wondering," Merlin mutters, before he takes a large bite from his bread so that he can give himself a moment of blissful silence. It's only when he swallows that he continues. "She's helping me out down here. I want to make sure she doesn't get hurt because of it."

Arthur snorts at him in a way that Merlin is certain hides an insult. He gets the faintest impression that he's just hurt Arthur's well-hidden feelings, although he isn't quite sure what it is that he's done. Inquiring after Morgana is essential: she has magic too, and she doesn't have someone like Gaius to watch her back for her. He doesn't want the beast to fix its sights on her any more than he wants it to continue chasing after him.

"Morgana is fine," Arthur tells him, and his tone confirms that the matter is firmly closed as far as he is concerned. Merlin knows that it probably isn't his place to ask about the well-being of someone like Lady Morgana, but by now Arthur should be used to the way he acts with little regard towards how a servant is 'supposed' to act. It doesn't matter. Arthur leaves without saying very much else, leaving Merlin with the faint impression that he has managed to really put his foot in it.

*

It's Gaius who visits him next, and the sound of his footsteps doesn't alarm Merlin in the same way that Arthur's had. He recognises that shuffling sound with no effort at all and it brings a smile to his face even if he is sure that Gaius will find something or other to scold him about before he leaves. He misses it, in a way. He definitely misses his bed and getting to eat a real breakfast at a real table in a real room.

Gaius's smile is at least sympathetic when Merlin complains about his predicament.

"It's for the safety of Camelot, Merlin," he says, always annoyingly reasonable. Merlin tells himself that it would be an entirely different matter if Gaius was the one sufferring from self-inflicted imprisonment. "The creature draws power from its victims, absorbing their very essence. If it gained your magic, there is no telling the amount of damage it would be able to do."

And people would die and Camelot would be destroyed and Merlin knows that that is a very bad thing. He knows he has to lie low and allow someone else to handle this threat, someone else who won't be offering a lethal amount of magic to the wraith-like monster. He still twitches restlessly. He still longs for this to be over.

"How is Arthur, by the way? I think he's mad at me," Merlin says. It isn't unusual for Arthur to be angry, although it usually wears off fairly quickly.

Gaius frowns. That, too, is far from unusual. "I couldn't say," he answers. "I believe he and his knights are trying to hunt this creature down as quickly as possible."

Merlin gives a single, slow nod. He can't really work out whether or not this means anything. Working for Arthur even as his manservant ought to require a very high level of education, Merlin thinks. Only a theologian would have the necessary intellect to decode the way that the prince's mind works.

"If you have done something to upset him, Merlin, it might be wise to apologise," Gaius suggests, with a kindly gleam in his disapproving eyes.

"I've not done anything." For once. He'll admit that, once in a while, Arthur's bad moods are justified. Sort of. In a way. Occasionally.

Once in a blue moon.

In this instance, however, Merlin has been hiding out constantly. Eating stale bread is the highlight of his day. There is no room or opportunity for him to have managed to spectacularly upset Arthur, but his visits have stopped altogether. Usually, Arthur used to pop in to see him in the morning and then again in the evening. There's been nothing.

"Do you think he might know?" Merlin asks, voicing the worries that have been plaguing his thoughts. "About my magic, I mean. Maybe he's figured it out."

Gaius's frown deepens to unimaginable levels. "I have not told him the nature of the beast," he says. Merlin thinks that is probably as reassuring as he is going to get. "He may have deduced its interest in you of his own accord. I can't say."

It's worrying, for both of them, and Merlin isn't sure how he's going to work out the truth - especially if Arthur is busy ignoring him.

"If Arthur knows about your magic, this creature may be the least of our worries," Gaius says.

Merlin doesn't need Gaius to tell him that. He knows it all too well himself. It is his destiny to be at Arthur's side and to protect him from the dark forces that move against him in Camelot. If Arthur has worked out the truth, then his destiny is in danger.

He thinks.

He's not sure how that works, exactly. For a 'destiny', it seems to be awfully fragile. The dragon knows what it's talking about, he assumes. It talks as if it does, anyway, and Merlin has learned that when people act as if they have authority over you, it usually means that they do.

*

His next visitor is Morgana, who brings him his breakfast the following morning. She says it's porridge. It looks like gruel. Merlin isn't sure if there is really much of a difference.

"Arthur said you were asking after me," she says. Her mouth shows the faintest twist of amusement, but she has enough self-control that it does not look like an open smirk. It's a skill that Merlin thinks that Arthur will never bother to develop: when he is smirking, he wants the world to know about it. "Thank you."

"I was worried," Merlin says. It's hard to explain why he was worried about her in particular without revealing his own secret. He's not quite sure why he can't do so. If Arthur has figured it out, then Morgana has a right to know as well. He could stop hiding who he really is from the people that he cares about.

And they would see him as a liar.

They would see him as a threat.

"There's a monster on the loose. I just thought you should be careful. Or something. Maybe?" It doesn't sound like a very satisfying explanation, does it? He takes a spoonful of porridge in order to shut himself up.

"I think Arthur was rather put-out by your line of questioning," Morgana says. "He's used to being the centre of attention."

"Didn't want his head to get too big," Merlin answers after he swallows, mostly because he isn't entirely sure what her point is supposed to be. If Arthur is acting strange about him, Merlin has already worked out the real reason. "You know what he's like."

Morgana nods far more slowly than is really necessary. Her smile is growing.

Merlin doesn't think that he has seen a more alarming sight than that in years.

"Would you like me to stay with you for a while?" she offers. "It must get lonely down here."

It does. It really does. Sometimes Merlin thinks that he would feel better going out and facing the creature that is stalking the shadows, waiting to draw the magic from his veins. There is probably a better way of fighting it than merely waiting for it to starve or give up.

She sits down with him. Her dress will be getting ruined on the dusty stone floor, and Merlin can't help but look at it with nervous horror. She won't mind. She isn't like any other noblewoman; she definitely isn't like Lady Vivian. If she was, she wouldn't be here in the first place. The likes of himself and Gwen would barely register on her radar. She's different. She's better than this place.

More than a noble, more than a witch, she is a friend. Merlin thinks that is worth more than all of Uther's riches ever could be.

*

Gwen comes next. The food that she brings him tastes delicious and he eats it so quickly he ends up with a belly ache. Gwen watches him with a neutral expression as he places a hand on his stomach and groans uncomfortably. "That was brilliant," he says, to stop her from thinking that she's poisoned him.

She sighs and kneels on the floor in front of him. "Merlin," she says. "Arthur is being stubborn."

This, Merlin thinks, is far from news.

"He is spending every waking second stomping around the castle and yelling at his knights to work harder. I think poor Leon is close to a mental breakdown."

That part is more news-worthy; Sir Leon is one of the most steady people that Merlin has met, other than Lancelot. He frowns and tries to fight back the remnants of guilt that cling to his mind. He knows what this is about: he knows that it is his fault that Arthur is in such a bad mood.

"I should go and talk to him," he says, because it seems clear enough that Arthur isn't going to come back down here. If he had wanted to see him again, he would have visited already. Merlin thinks it's probably a good sign that there have been no guards here to take him away, and he has heard no news of the executioner sharpening his axe. If Arthur knows, he has not yet reported him to his father. Maybe he isn't going to. Maybe Merlin can lie to himself and say that this is all going to be right. His stack of lies aren't yet ready to tumble around his head. He won't be crushed beneath their weight.

"I know you two have had an argument," Gwen says. She has folded her hands neatly into her lap. "I don't know what it's about, but Arthur isn't himself. Everybody has noticed."

"He's found something out about me," Merlin says. He doesn't know why. He's on thin enough ice with just the slightest possibility that Arthur might know. He shouldn't risk dropping hints to Gwen as well. Gaius would scalp him for it. "I don't think it's something he's going to forgive me for."

Gwen's expression is as soft as it is sympathetic. She reaches out to hold onto his hand. "Arthur is an idiot, Merlin. We both know that." It's a little bit thrilling to hear her saying something like that so openly. He doesn't think that she would have allowed herself to do that a year ago. "But you're the closest thing he has to a real friend. Have faith in him. I do."

Merlin nods. He doesn't think she would be so understanding if she knew what he was talking about. "Aren't you going to ask?" he says.

"You'll tell me eventually, won't you?"

He nods again. She must think it is something innocent, something far from life-shattering. If she knew the truth, she wouldn't be so understanding. Merlin is used to being alone, he is used to keeping secrets, and he knows that Gaius and his mother are right about the importance of letting nobody know, but he hates it all the same. Gwen would stand by him. After what had been done to her father, she had no loyalty to Uther - she wouldn't turn him in. He's sure of that.

"I'll tell you as soon as I can," he says. "I promise."

His stomach still hurts and now there is a sad, hollow pain in his chest. He wants to tell someone. He wants them to know; he needs someone more than Gaius to share this secret with him. It's too hard, otherwise. By comparison, the creature searching for him above-ground, ready to devour his magic and take his life, doesn't seem like as much of a threat.

He realises that he wants Arthur to know. He hopes that he has figured it out for himself, regardless of the consequences.

Once Arthur knows, it means that the worst of the hiding is over. Whether Arthur views him as friend or foe, this hidden section of his life can be over. They can face their destiny together instead of forcing him to shoulder it by himself.

"Do you know where Arthur is now?" he asks, looking up at her.

"It's too dangerous, Merlin," she says. "Don't you remember the reason that you're down here in the first place?"

He is down here because fate hates him.

The monster might have something to do with it as well.

"I do. Yeah, of course I do. But, y'know, I think maybe I should go for a bit anyway. It might find me if I stay down here too long."

Judging from the look on Gwen's face, this is not a convincing excuse. "I'll find Arthur and tell him that you want to see him," she says. "I'll get my Lady to drag him down here by the ear if we have to."

Merlin thinks that Gwen could probably manage all dragging responsibilites by herself if she wanted to, but she has always been a far better servant than he has: she is far more respectful of the social order than Merlin thinks she ought to be. One day, he hopes, she will be happy to bully Arthur all by herself.

"Thank you," he says. His nerves are already beginning to mount as she stands up and prepares to leave him, going to fetch his fate.

*

Arthur leaves him down there, alone, for one hundred years.

Approximately. It feels like that, anyway, and Merlin wouldn't put it past Arthur to be so absentmindedly cruel. He really is a prat.

He doesn't know what time it is or how long has passed when he finally hears the sound of Arthur's footsteps coming along the stone corridor. It makes him get to his feet, brushing away dust and dirt from his trousers. He can feel the stiff strain in his legs from sitting down too long. It hurts, but with his heart pounding and his mind envisioning direr and direr outcomes of this particular conversation, he can hardly pay attention.

Arthur is in his armour when he finally comes into sight. He pauses far away from Merlin, as if Merlin has started to stink and he can't stand to be in his presence. Considering how long he's been down here - centuries, he's sure of it - that might actually be true.

"Morgana said you wanted to see me," he says. His arms are folded over his chest and his hair is sticking up at all kinds of angles. "What is it?"

Merlin's not too sure what to say, actually. He hadn't planned this far ahead. "Are you mad at me?" he asks. It seems the safest place to start.

Probably isn't, however, if Arthur's scathing snort is anything to judge by. "Why would I be mad at you, Merlin? You're only hiding down here all day and being paid to do it."

Merlin is reasonably certain that Arthur isn't mad at him for skiving off from his duties. It had been Arthur's suggestion to hide him away in the first place.

"...Are you sure that's it?" he asks, before he adds on, "sire," as an afterthought. Anything that might work to keep him in Arthur's good books is an excellent idea right now.

Arthur rolls his eyes at him. He looks like a sulking child.

"Arthur?" Merlin prods. It's like scratching at an itch.

"Why don't you ask Morgana?" Arthur says. It sounds a little sharper than his usual (childish, very childish, and usually quite illogical) retorts.

Merlin has to pause for a moment. Does Arthur know about Morgana as well? Is he mad at both of them for concealing magic from him?

"You're mad at me about something to do with Morgana?" he guesses. This conversation really is going nothing like what he had expected.

Arthur snorts again. This isn't getting any clearer. "I'm the one that is risking my life and the lives of my men every single day while hunting for this creature," he blurts. "Not her." He shuffles his weight from foot to foot. Merlin doesn't think that he has ever seen him look more normal than this before. Even with his armour and his cloak, he looks like a regular young man stuck in a tar-pit of awkwardness. Merlin holds his tongue, just to see if he'll squirm some more. "You didn't ask about me."

"That's what you're angry about?" Merlin says. He's not sure whether or not he's relieved or disappointed. It should be the first one. If Arthur has simply been in a huff due to one of Merlin's various oversights, that is a lot safer than having his secret revealed. Safer.

Merlin thinks that he's just about done with being safe.

"Are you in love with her?" Arthur asks.

Merlin is caught off-guard, enough that at first he can only manage to garble wordlessly. "With Morgana?" he says once words become an option once more. "No. No, definitely not."

She's lovely and she's beautiful, and - like every single male that finds himself in her presence - Merlin can't help but find her attractive. That really doesn't mean that he's in love with her, though, and it also really doesn't mean that she is in love with him. They're friends, of a sort, and that's all. That's it. She's not the one that he follows around all day despite having to deal with easy-going insults all the time, she isn't the one that always manages to bring a smile to his face regardless of the situation, and she isn't the one whose destiny is firmly entwined with his own.

Sometimes, Merlin thinks that Arthur is one of the dimmest men in the world, and that Camelot is going to be utterly and thoroughly doomed if he ever makes it to the throne.

Arthur looks as if he is taking his time to consider Merlin's denial. "Really?"

"Really," Merlin confirms, with an enthusiastic nod. "She's lovely, honest. I just don't think about her like that." Arthur's head has bowed by this point. Merlin might even dare to call him sheepish. It's a good look on him. "Is that why you were avoiding me? 'cos you thought I was in love with Morgana?"

It strays towards the ridiculous side of things, doesn't it? Arthur is a prince and Merlin is a sorcerer and Morgana is a witch and there is a crazy magic-eating monster out there trying to chomp on his essence, and yet all that anyone in Camelot can focus on is their love lives. It is a miracle that the human race has survived so long.

"It didn't seem fair," Arthur says.

Merlin's heart is beating fast again, like it had when he had thought that Arthur knew about his magic, but this is different - only slightly, but enough. This is more excitement than fear, more nerves than terror. He swallows and can't believe that he's daring to even consider this.

He's really going to have to try and be as vague as is humanly possible.

"Is there somebody else I should be in love with?" he wonders aloud. He hopes that his gaze is as pointed as he means it to be.

Arthur moves restlessly again. Merlin isn't sure what exactly that means.

He shrugs after that, as much as one is able to shrug while wearing bulky armour. "Maybe. Why would I know?"

"You're the prince."

"That has never meant much to you before," Arthur says. He's got a point. And, yeah, in this case the fact that Arthur is the prince is not important because he is royal but because he is Arthur and that he is the somebody else that Merlin is ever-so-subtly trying to refer to.

Merlin sighs. Communicating with Arthur is a difficult thing.

"Never mind," he mumbles.

Arthur has a monster to kill, so he doesn't stick around for long. The visit is awkward and it makes Merlin twitch with the need to do or say something to make it better.

He doesn't even get any food out of it, this time.

*

One week later, life is mostly back to normal. He's out of his hiding spot, in any case, and he's getting to sleep in his own bed without any fear of being eaten. It's an improvement.

Of course, the girls have taken to restraining smiles whenever he and Arthur walk past them in the corridor, and Gaius keeps making grumpy sounds at him, and Arthur has been several times more insufferable than usual. Life goes on, it appears, even after a harrowing week of near-death experiences (admittedly, the most likely cause of death had actually been from boredom rather than anything more exciting. Merlin's glad that he survived it. Arthur probably would have made sure that his manner of dying was recorded for all eternity).

"Arthur," Merlin sighs after one long day of running pointless chores and being firmly ignored. "I never got around to thanking you - for saving my life, I mean."

That had largely been because little thanks had been required. It had been the work of some instinctual magic and a lot of good luck that had got rid of the creature in the end, but it is probably best if he doesn't say as much to Arthur. Gaius certainly thinks so, in any case, but Merlin's thoughts on the matter are beginning to change. He's going to tell him. One day soon, he is going to tell him.

Arthur looks up from where he had been making his way towards the food set on the table in his room. "It is my duty to look after the citizens of Camelot," he says after a gruff cough.

Merlin shrugs. He takes a swinging step or two towards the table as well. "Yeah, but I'm just a servant." Uther wouldn't have saved him. He doesn't know of many people who would have risked their lives and the lives of their men for one stupid, clumsy, rude servant. "Seriously. Thank you."

It is Arthur's turn to shrug now. He is very determined not to look towards Merlin's face.

Merlin has to, privately, admit that Arthur is a little bit adorable when he is acting even more socially incompetent than usual. He's past the point of finding it odd when he finds Arthur adorable. It's a way of life by now.

"Don't worry about it," he says.

"But I do worry about you," Merlin blurts in response. He has decided that the best course of action today is to give his mouth free reign. If he doesn't say something, they're both going to tiptoe around each other for the rest of their destined lives. "Not just Morgana. I asked about Morgana because I thought it'd be strange if I asked about you. You would have said something stupid."

There are enough elements of the truth in there that Merlin doesn't exactly feel as if he's lying. Arthur stares at him with eyes that are wide enough that Merlin thinks it ought to hurt.

"And, I wanted to say that I'm not in love with Morgana. I wanted to say that again so it's really clear. Does that make sense?" He doesn't know what he's implying here. He doesn't want to know, but he hopes that Arthur gets it all the same.

Arthur has moved around the table by now. They are separated by open space, and Merlin shifts from foot to foot. He thinks he felt safer when there was a solid piece of furniture between them. At least that way he had been fairly confident that he could make it to the door before Arthur managed to explode.

"Merlin," Arthur says. He is using his most reasonable tone of voice. This cannot mean anything good. "If you are trying to..." He trails off before he finishes, clears his throat, and then takes another stab at what he wanted to say. "You have my permission to kiss the prince."

"I-"

Merlin is trying not to laugh. Laughing in Arthur's face after such an invitation really would be inappropriate, wouldn't it? Inappropriate and unfortunate and it might manage to bruise even Arthur's ego.

"I'm happy to know that," he says. He looks down at his hands. He isn't going to do it now. Really, he isn't. Arthur is a prince, but it isn't the prince he wants to kiss. He's not a royal groupie. "Maybe after I'm done for the night. Better eat up, sire. Your dinner will go cold." He can't do it until he has told Arthur who he really is. He can't do it until his secret is out in the open - and, because of this, Arthur has to take the revelation well. Merlin needs him to.

Arthur's eyes are wide and his mouth gapes for a moment. Merlin thinks that there are very few pleasures in the world that can rival teasing Arthur.

He hopes that he will be allowed to find out that kissing him is one of them.