Yes, it's epic.

[pforte]

part one

That night, he waited till the castle fell silent and then slid out of bed and got dressed. Quietly, he walked the halls and corridors he knew like the back of his hand until he reached the Court Physician’s quarters. The door protested with a creak as he opened it slowly but he knew that Gaius was a heavy sleeper. And indeed, the sleeping form on the narrow bed didn’t move as he sneaked into the room, which was dimly lit by a low-burning candle. Arthur made his way to Merlin’s small room in no time and closed the door behind him with a sigh of relief.

Merlin’s room lay in utter darkness. They had a new moon that night and Arthur needed a few moments to adjust his eyes. He hurt his toe on Merlin’s pallet nonetheless, cursing under his breath while he shook his manservant ruggedly awake.

“Merlin,” he said gruffly.

“Wussat?” mumbled Merlin groggily.

“Merlin, wake up. And be quiet for heaven’s sake.”

The dark figure that he knew was Merlin drifted from half-sleep to awareness in a few very long seconds and then sat up and groaned. “Arthur? What --”

“I’ll explain. Get dressed,” Arthur ordered quietly, authoritarian. Merlin yawned but slid compliantly out of bed.

“Can I at least light a candle?” he asked miserably.

“Yes, yes,” Arthur agreed impatiently. “Hurry up.”

Strange how one little candle could bring so much contours and light. He saw Merlin clearly, his sleep-heavy eyes, his tousled hair, his clumsy movements. Merlin missed the leg of his breeches twice and Arthur grew more and more impatient. But eventually, they stood outside of Gaius’s quarters and Arthur led the way up the one tower he knew to be unmanned at night.

“Would you be so good as to explain why you wake me in the middle of the bloody night, Sire?” Merlin asked grumpily when Arthur stopped at the battlement. Arthur ran a hand through his hair, rubbed his face and tried to think of the right words. “Arthur?” Merlin asked hesitantly.

“I want you to find out if I’m under some kind of spell.” He faced the sleeping castle instead of Merlin and all he heard in response is silence. Slowly, he turned around. Merlin looked like a deer facing a pack of wolves.

“What?” he asked tonelessly.

“Merlin, come here.” Arthur waved him over curtly. Merlin obeyed, tense and anxious. With a sigh, Arthur slid down with his back against the battlement and patted the space next to him. When Merlin had sat down beside him, Arthur continued. “I planned to be righteously angry with you, I did. But I don’t have time to wait for you to tell me. Merlin, since the Questing Beast attacked me, I have felt things and seen things I hadn’t noticed before. It’s like a veil has been lifted. It’s hard to explain. I feel that some part of my past is missing, that some part of myself is missing and I know that it’s not natural.” He looked at him then. Merlin clung to his candle like a lost child in a dark forest but his face didn’t show fear anymore, only concern.

“What do you want me to do?”

“You’ve helped me before.” Arthur knew it was the truth when Merlin didn’t protest. “Can you find out if someone has a hold on my mind?”

“Like a memory charm?”

Arthur smiled wryly. “I wouldn’t know, Merlin. I’m not exactly well-versed in sorcery. That’s why I’m asking you.”

“And you trust me, too,” Merlin said wonderingly. Arthur looked away and coughed in embarrassment. “All right. I haven’t tried anything like this yet but I’ll do my best. Let me think for a minute.”

“That’s a first,” Arthur couldn’t help saying. Merlin only grinned boyishly before he got up and started pacing. Arthur watched him, puzzled as to how he knew that this was the right thing to do. Well, trusting Merlin had never been a mistake before and he was still alive after all. Abruptly, Merlin stopped dead.

“Merlin?”

“Don’t move,” Merlin said, making a gesture with his left hand and muttering something in a language Arthur didn’t understand, and then his eyes flashed gold.

It wasn’t painful. It felt like a gloved strong hand combing and sifting through sand, only it was Merlin’s mind going through his. Certainly, it was an intrusion but it didn’t feel like one. On the contrary, Merlin’s presence was reassuring, soothing, like it somehow melted into Arthur’s being, like it belonged there. Arthur relaxed into the imaginary touch. And then the presence knocked into something, met resistance, hard and repellent, and, oh fucking hell, he felt-tasted-saw a raw, piercing pain that sent him reeling to the ground. Pain was what he was, white-hot searing and freezing-cold all at once.

Then, nothing.

***

“Arthur, Arthur, can you hear me?” Merlin asked, voice high and shrill with desperation.

He blinked and Merlin’s anxious face took shape above him. “You’re as horrible at this as at everything else,” he croaked. Merlin laughed in relief and knocked the breath out of him by pulling him into a tight embrace.

“Oh hell, I thought it killed you,” he muttered, lips moving against Arthur’s forehead. “You yelled and then your face went grey and you dropped to the ground, but it looked more like you were thrown. Good thing you were already on the ground, Arthur, you would have cracked your head otherwise.” Arthur allowed the embrace to go on for another long moment before he pulled away and scrambled to sit back against the battlement again. The cool stone felt heavenly.

“What on earth was that?” he asked. If his knees were as wobbly as his voice it would take him more than a few minutes to be able to get up.

Merlin sat on his lower legs, looking at him with his ridiculously blue and guileless eyes. “You were right. Someone had been in your head.”

“And? What did it do? Who could have done that?”

Merlin held up his hands defensively. “I don’t know. I can’t exactly read minds, yes?”

“Is it gone?” Now that he knew for a fact that someone had been in his head, he wanted it undone, immediately.

“Yeah,” Merlin replied.

Arthur frowned, feeling his forehead until he realised how silly that was. “I don’t feel any different.”

“That’s, er, because I blocked your memories with a shield of my own when you fell down.” Merlin silenced him with a determined look when Arthur opened his mouth to speak. “Arthur, this magic was strong and the barrier was...I didn’t know something like this was possible. Imagine your chain mail, the best in the realm, only it would be made of words and phrases instead of iron links.”

“They protect whatever is underneath,” Arthur murmured.

“Yes, but they’re also like a second skin.” Merlin gave him a curious look. “Pretending to be something they aren’t. Are you really ready for this? Could be that you asked someone to--”

“Merlin, don’t be ridiculous. I don’t make a habit of asking sorcerers to mess with my mind.”

“Right.”

“Remove the shield.” Arthur straightened, checking his reflexes. He was still a little shaky but he would manage.

“Not yet.”

“Merlin. Now.”

Merlin gave him an exasperated look. “You’re awfully eager to risk your sanity.”

Arthur grinned, covering up his nerves. “I have to cope with you being my manservant, what could possibly be worse?”

“As you wish, Sire.”

For a moment, Arthur watched in fascination as Merlin’s eyes turned gold. Then he was too busy fighting a severe case of vertigo to focus on anything. It was like a dam broke and icy water filled his mind; cold memories, old ones, were being released and reclaiming their place. He felt a tingling sensation spreading in his head, until it was all-encompassing and his ears were ringing with a buzzing sound that drowned everything else out. Reality came almost as a shock. One moment he was floating in some sort of shared yet inaccessible half-consciousness and then he blinked and found himself sitting on the cold stone of the tower, with Merlin hovering over him like a worried wet nurse. He could see and smell and hear again. Also, he could remember. He remembered the two days - minutes too long and many to count - with Father Osborn, when he had been forced to pray for hours on his knees. Punishment for a kiss. Now Arthur was able to remember the face of Sir Meraugis, his wide smile directed at Arthur, grey eyes proud and oh so alluring to his younger self.

“Oh Gods,” Arthur gasped.

“Arthur?”

“I kissed Meraugis in the corridor outside his guest chambers and the priest saw us. He dragged me to my father and swore to cure me. My father...ignored my protests and allowed him to lead me away.” Arthur closed his eyes. The betrayal hurt, even moreso now because it had been unknown to him for such a long time. He remembered making fun of the priest with Morgana, remembered mocking his sermons and his fervent hatred of everything that didn’t conform to his beliefs.

“Are you all right?” Merlin asked anxiously. Arthur opened his eyes and there he was, worried blue eyes and wobbly lower lip.

“I feel...confused. But I’m fine, I think.”

Merlin shrugged, smiling, pleased despite himself. He said, “It’s over now.”

“No, it’s not,” Arthur replied hotly. “It’ll be over when the king knows of this and Osborn has received his proper punishment.”

“You want to watch him lose his head, Arthur? And how do you plan to explain your miraculous discovery?” Merlin asked sharply.

“I will think of something,” Arthur answered. No, of course it wouldn’t do to say anything that might incriminate Merlin. He would have to think this through. Arthur hated the look of doubt on Merlin’s face. Merlin, who had helped him once again without thinking of the consequences for himself. Things could have gone horribly wrong tonight after all.

“You do know that I am, well, grateful.” Arthur busied himself with getting to his feet. Still a little wobbly but feeling good and whole. Merlin steadied him, only a little and not enough for Arthur to brush him off.

A warm smile was on his face. “You do have a strange way of showing it but yes, I know.”

***

That night he dreamt of Merlin. It must have been in the small hours of the morning, when twilight turned his chambers into a strange black-and-white landscape, because Arthur, only half-awake, lazily closed his eyes again, the colourless shapes in his room letting him know that it was too early to get up. When Arthur woke again later, sunlight filtered through the curtains and he was uncomfortably hard. He threw an arm over his eyes, desperate to hide a bit longer, while he took care of it. Panting out his relief, he tried not to be troubled by this. It had been Merlin who had told him that these dreams were natural and, after all, they had been spending a lot of time together lately. Yet he felt his cheeks grow hot when Merlin opened the door with his shoulder, carrying his breakfast. His face and even his ridiculous ears were flushed from mounting the stairs to Arthur’s chambers in a hurry.

Arthur noticed the scrutinising glance in his direction before Merlin chirped, “Morning, Arthur. You look much better today,” and bustled about the room.

Much better indeed. Arthur shifted uncomfortably in his bed, as if Merlin could somehow know what he had been doing only minutes ago. But his manservant did what he was paid to do for once, laid out his hunting clothes and prepared a silver bowl with hot water for his morning hygiene. With an inward groan Arthur noticed that he didn’t wear a neckerchief, just like in his dream. Granted, he hadn’t worn any other clothes, either.

“Merlin,” he said, pushing aside his former resolution to ignore the previous night’s events for as long as possible. “You weren’t, er, surprised by what I told you on the tower.”

Merlin looked up and a slow and decidedly naughty smile lit up his face, a smile Arthur hadn’t thought his manservant was capable of. “Takes one to know one,” he said cheerfully.

Arthur cleared his throat to cover up his sputtering. “But how?”

A shrug. “When you found out about Will and me, you didn’t tell your father and you didn’t treat me any differently, either. That’s, well, unusual for someone who claims to be disgusted and appalled by my mere existence.”

Arthur groaned. “Don’t remind me of what I said. That’s an order, Merlin.”

At that, Merlin’s smile changed into something warmer, fonder. “That wasn’t you, Sire.”

***

Something had to be done about the priest. Arthur couldn’t breathe easily, knowing that he walked around freely and without a care in the world. And how could he be sure that Father Osborne didn’t feel that the spell was broken? Arthur had no illusions, if the wound caused by the Questing Beast hadn’t irrevocably changed him, he would still live in ignorance of...well, many things. It was hard to admit that he had been living a lie, was still living it. Arthur couldn’t deny what had apparently always been in his nature. He did feel attracted to women - the pale green dress Morgana wore that day made his head spin - but he caught himself watching his more handsome knights, noticed how their muscles played under their skin when they took a break from sword training and refreshed themselves at the water pump. Arthur felt prickly, the thought of anyone else noticing the changes he was going through gnawing at him. But when it came right down to it, Arthur was a physical person and a good sword fight always cleared his head. When he was duly exhausted and his knights started to mutter rebelliously about him being a flayer, he gave them a sunny smile and ended the training session.

As usual, Merlin waited for him by the stands, excitement written all over his face. There was something strangely endearing about the fact that he liked watching Arthur and his knights beat each other up. Within rules, of course.

“Here, get this to the smith,” Arthur ordered and threw one of his gauntlets at him. “A few of the links are loose and they bore into my wrist.”

Merlin nodded. “Yes, Sire.”

“Oh, and Merlin, come to my chambers immediately afterwards.”

“As if I ever loitered,” Merlin mumbled and was off. Arthur bit back a grin and headed to his chambers. When he passed by the chapel, he slowed down, his gaze being drawn to two prominent figures. The priest and his father stood outside the big wooden doors, deep in conversation. Seeing those two together turned the smouldering anger inside him into scorching fury. Both of them were men he had trusted, men in whom he had confided and who had guided and taught him. Arthur was used to being a disappointment to his father, no matter how well he did in tournaments or elsewhere, but he had never thought it possible that he could actually despise him for something.

“Arthur,” his father called, having eventually descried him.

With a smile that seemed to hurt his very being, Arthur made his way over to them. They were both dressed in black, though the king wore a gold necklace and his doublet was studded. The priest was shorter than the king and gaunt, with a long neck like a vulture. His haggardness made him look taller than he was.

“Father,” Arthur said respectfully. Both of them nodded in response.

“We watched your progress with the knights earlier. You’ve been training them well,” Uther said more to the priest than to Arthur.

“They are truly godly warriors,” the priest added. “All of them have an excellent reputation.”

“They have been attending your sermons regularly, Father,” Arthur said, wondering how anyone could miss the irony.

“I am but an unworthy servant of the Lord. But every word spoken in the hall of God reveals His wisdom and is the absolute truth.”

“I am sure of it,” Arthur lied with fervour. And then he suddenly knew what he would do. “Father, I will later seek you out for moral guidance. Please excuse me now. I’m in need of a bath.”

Father Osborn inclined his head and Arthur left them before he would ram his fist in the priest’s face.

Merlin was already waiting for him in his chambers when he banged the door open.

“Do you feel all right?” he asked when he saw Arthur’s face.

“Surprisingly no, Merlin. The thought of this false priest being my father’s confidant makes me - how shall I phrase it? - uneasy,” Arthur snarled. The door behind him fell shut and locked. Arthur jumped and then his eyes narrowed.

“Sorry?” Merlin said, sounding entirely unapologetic. “What am I supposed to do? Let you alert the whole castle?”

Arthur spun around, furious. “Just because I have worse things to worry about doesn’t mean that I embrace these abilities of yours, sorcerer!”

Merlin paled but pushed his chin forward in determination. “Didn’t bother you when I saved your life or recovered your memories. And please, if this is really an issue now, shout at me or fire me or give me the silent treatment. But you will not throw this at me whenever something gets your goat.” His hands were clenched to fists and he was as ready to fight as Arthur had ever seen him. Strangely enough, he didn’t even seem to think of the possibility to turn Arthur into a newt. This left Arthur disarmed and feeling ashamed of his temper, which he would naturally never admit.

“I’ve decided to confront Father Osborn and give him the opportunity to leave Camelot silently.”

Merlin blinked, then relaxed marginally. “This is actually a pretty good idea.”

“Not in my chainmail though,” Arthur said, one eyebrow raised. Merlin rolled his eyes but set about removing it. His fingers were light and deft; he had improved a lot since he had started as his manservant. Arthur watched him, feeling himself relax under Merlin’s ministration.

“I’ll go with you, of course,” Merlin said abruptly.

“No, you need to stay out of this in case anyone goes wrong. I can’t have my father know about your magic.” Merlin only looked at him, exasperated. “What?”

“What if he uses magic on you again? You have no idea how to ward it off.”

“You’re not coming with me.” Arthur glared at him.

***

When Arthur went to meet the priest, Merlin followed closely behind. Arthur didn’t like to think too much about this but Merlin’s presence was reassuring.

Entering the vacant chapel, he shivered. It was darker inside and cooler, too, but this wasn’t the reason. Arthur blamed his imagination but the air smelt musty and oppressive. Hostile.

“My son,” the priest greeted him and stepped out of the shadows. “As usual I am glad to be of help.”

“Are we alone?” Arthur asked, feeling the reassuring weight of his sword against the side of leg. It would be so easy. And wrong.

“Of course.” The priest smiled. “What can I do to assist you?”

Arthur smiled back, coldly. “You can leave and never return.”

“I beg your pardon, my son?” Father Osborn frowned. His shadow grew larger as he stepped closer still.

“You see,” Arthur began, never taking his eyes off him. “I have come to realise that you don’t believe in the power of your prayers any more than the good people of Camelot.”

“Arthur, what a thing to say!”

“I thought all things said in the hall of God are the absolute truth.” The mockery was uncharacteristically sharp but Arthur was truly and royally furious at the hypocrite.

“You haven’t given this as much thought as behoves the matter. You’re not yourself, my son,” the priest replied. Arthur knew that he was suspicious now, that he knew something was off. His next step partly concealed him.

“Speaking of thoughts, Father, I have mine back. My thoughts, my memories, my feelings. Just so you know it’s all me who’s telling you this.”

“Is that so?” The priest’s voice was dangerously soft. Half-hidden in the shadows, his figure seemed to fill the whole chapel.

“Yes. Knowing what you did, I would enjoy ending your life here and now but this would probably please you in some perverse and twisted way. Thus I’ll give you the chance to leave Camelot. Be gone by morning and I’ll give you my word that my father will never hear the truth and hunt you down, which is more than you deserve for violating my mind.”

Father Osborn stepped closer still, his robes rustling on the stone floor. “Ah. A noble offer. But why would I want to leave Camelot? I have the king’s ear. He trusted my word over yours before, didn’t he?”

Arthur snarled. “I was a mere boy then. He won’t listen to a word you say once I’ve accused you of sorcery.”

“You won’t do that.”

Arthur reached for the hilt of his sword, unsheathing it a few inches. “Try me!”

The priest smiled. “You really won’t. How could you if you don’t remember?” And before Arthur could do so much as fully unsheathe his sword, the priest raised his hand and called out an incantation and then he was in Arthur’s head, ruthlessly sifting through his memories. Whereas Merlin’s presence had been cool and soothing, the priest’s was piercing and invasive. But just as quickly as it had begun, his presence was gone. Arthur found himself on his knees, gasping, and covered in cold sweat. He didn’t have to look up to know who stood in front of him.

“You will never touch him again.” The words, spoken calmly, helped Arthur to collect himself and get to his feet. Merlin’s usually lanky figure was imposing, as he stood very straight and faced the stunned priest. “And now you do what Prince Arthur suggested or I swear, there will not be enough of you left to face trial.”

The priest laughed nervously. “And who are you to make such threats, boy?”

“I am Merlin, the boy who ended Nimueh’s life.”

The priest’s left eye twitched. “She was a powerful sorceress but she was a priestess of the Old Religion, a blasphemer. I have God on my side.” He boomed another incantation Arthur didn’t understand and the chapel was lit up with an eerie red light. The ground shook under his feet but Arthur managed to reach for Merlin and steady him just in time to keep him from falling. He caught a short glimpse at his eyes, which were pure gold. Merlin gave him a strained smile and suddenly Arthur realised that he must be shielding them from whatever hellish magic the priest was flinging their way.

“What can I do?” he cried. Merlin shook his head, his attention back on the priest again. A loud bang and the very foundations of the chapel trembled and groaned. It was only a matter of time until the guards would storm in. A sudden shrill laughter pierced the eerie silence that followed.

“You’re not quick enough, I’ve seen it. Don’t be absurd, you’re nothing but an abnormal, perverted peasant boy reaching above his station. God will strike you down!” Father Osborn shrieked.

Merlin snarled. “You know nothing. You wouldn’t know love if it struck you in the face.”

Another flash of light - brighter and hotter this time. With startling force, Arthur was thrown back into a row of wooden seats, as if by a gigantic invisible hand. His breath was knocked out of him with an ooooof and the back of his head collided painfully with a very hard and pointy part of a chair. Arthur was out before he could see what happened next.

***

“This is becoming a habit,” he groaned as he regained consciousness, Merlin crouched over him. “I don’t like it.”

“I don’t like mucking the stables,” Merlin quipped, sounding like himself now.

“The priest?”

His manservant’s face darkened. “Gone. Don’t ask.” There was a pleading note in his voice that appealed to Arthur’s sense of chivalry. Which was of course ridiculous because Merlin could very well defend himself and Arthur on top of that, not to mention the fact that he wasn’t exactly an innocent maiden. When Arthur looked back, he saw nothing but a blackened spot on the stones.

Strangely enough, the castle lay still and dark when they left the chapel. It had been early evening when he sought out the confrontation with the priest, so they must have been inside for hours.

“Merlin, how long was I out?”

“Only a couple of minutes, why?”

“It wasn’t dark when I went in.”

Merlin grimaced. “No, it wasn’t.”

This shut Arthur up. The loss of time had to do with magic then, magic that made even Merlin uncomfortable. Arthur shivered, processing the conversation between Merlin and the priest. Merlin had killed Nimueh. Arthur knew full well that he wasn’t exactly famed for his intellect but what most people didn’t know was that he liked to keep it that way. It wasn’t difficult to draw the right conclusion now. Merlin had been gone after the Questing Beast had attacked Arthur, he had reappeared with a mysterious fluid that saved Arthur’s life and then he had been gone again, only to come back exhausted and depressed, accompanied by a barely alive Gaius. They hadn’t faced any threat of Nimueh’s since.

Arthur’s head hurt.

***

And Arthur’s head didn’t stop hurting for several days because the chairs he had fallen into had been made of very hard and very robust wood and there was a spectacular bump at the back of his head. When Merlin had persuaded Arthur to call him, Gaius pursed his lips, muttered under his breath and threw dark looks at Merlin every now and then, but the salve he prescribed Arthur eased the pain considerably. Yet simple actions like standing up caused him hammering pain and feelings of dizziness. Gaius told his father that he wasn’t up to the patrol he was to go on but this didn’t stop his father from storming into his rooms that very evening.

“Arthur, how did this happen? And do not insult me by pretending that this had nothing to do with Father Osborn’s disappearance,” his father raged.

Ah, so he had noticed. “I sought him out last night, as you know,” Arthur recounted. “He advised me in a personal matter until suddenly a dark, hooded figure appeared.” No need to tell the king that said figure had been Father Osborn’s shadow. “It was a warlock, father! He attacked us. I defended our lives but the sorcerer was very, er, powerful. I’m ashamed to say that I lost consciousness and when I came to my senses Father Osborn and the warlock were gone.” Not exactly lies.

“Hmm,” made the king, then had a look at the purpling bump on Arthur’s head. “The court physician tells me that you were lucky. I am of course glad that you are alive and relatively well but I must tell you that I expected better of you. Father Osborn has been a trusted advisor for years. You should have done more to protect him.”

Arthur inclined his head, hiding his anger. “I am sorry, father.”

“Well,” Uther said, “it must have been a very powerful sorcerer. I am sure you did your best.” He needn’t sound so sceptical, Arthur thought.

“I did.”

“Good. I expect you to make good for the patrol you missed as soon as you’re recovered. You will find that dark sorcerer who robbed us of a great man like Father Osborn.” And with that he rushed out. When Arthur unclenched his fists, there were angry, half-moon shaped wounds on his palms. Some things were difficult to forgive.

***

Yet everything went back to normal all too easily. After Arthur had returned from the patrol, which had unfortunately been unsuccessful, he resumed keeping an eye on the surviving powerful sorcerer in their midst. Out of habit. As expected, Merlin didn’t display any of the characteristics Arthur’s father attributed to sorcerers and warlocks and if he was seeing someone with whom he practised sodomy, Arthur didn’t know. And he kind of didn’t want to know, either, because the mere thought made something in his stomach coil and tighten. Arthur wasn’t sure what to make of his own feelings regarding the matter. Sodomy, that is. Rationally, he knew that he had been conditioned to hate, despise and fear, that he had been bound by magic. Yet, he couldn’t help feeling guilty whenever he so much as looked at or thought of another man that way. Especially Merlin, who had been a much better friend to him than he had ever known before. Well, he had been able to push these desires aside for years, it shouldn’t be so hard now, should it? So Arthur hurled himself into work, a whirlwind of training sessions, receptions, patrols and diplomatic missions.

After two turbulent, exhausting months he admitted to himself that his plan had failed spectacularly. Even if he managed to tire himself out throughout the day, he couldn’t banish these blasted dreams from invading his mind. They got more detailed and elaborate, too, and Arthur couldn’t even honestly say that he hated them. The tiny, nagging voices that still condemned his feelings grew less and less pronounced and lost their fervour - Father Osborn’s shadow finally retreated. But Arthur hadn’t been this confused as a teenager, thus he was wholly unprepared for it now. Of course he tried to avoid Merlin altogether but this only led to hurt feelings. They were undeniably friends and friends didn’t do this to each other. Or did they? Arthur was fucked either way.

It took him another month to pluck up the courage for a hunting trip of which the main purpose wasn’t hunting. It was late autumn by then and the nights were cold. Merlin would have a lot of luggage to shoulder and was less than enthusiastic about the trip.

“It’ll be fun,” Arthur said, encouraging. If he was quite honest with himself, he was hurt that Merlin seemed so reluctant to spend time with him away from Camelot.

“Yeah,” Merlin muttered darkly and set about packing. They left early the next morning and Arthur pretended not to have heard the relieved sighs of his knights.

***

Arthur had planned on talking to Merlin first, he honestly had. He had been thinking about what to say all day, which resulted in two deer and one mean boar escaping his bow and hunting knife. But when Merlin leaned close to him while stoking the fire, Arthur smelt the damp smoke in his hair and saw dark lashes against pale skin and a hint of a stubble on his chin, and he kissed him before he knew what he was doing. Arthur’s brain caught up with his actions mere moments later when Merlin scrambled to his feet, eyes blazing.

“What the fuck, Arthur?”

“I’m...sorry,” Arthur said lamely because he was really and truly not. His heart was hammering wildly and the disappointment tasted as bitter as ashes.

“You’re sorry?” Merlin sounded furious, still.

Pushed in the defensive, Arthur snapped, “What do you want me to say? Forget it, all right?”

Merlin glared at him. “No.”

Arthur looked at him, incredulous. “No?”

“You heard me.”

“Oh come on, it’s not as if I violated a virgin here. It was a kiss, Merlin, not rape.”

Merlin grimaced. “Yeah, just a kiss. The thing is, I’m not available for any experiments, just because you happen to know about me.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Arthur shouted. He was good at shouting.

Merlin took a deep breath. He seemed ready to strangle Arthur, so the effort alone was somewhat admirable. “Arthur, against all odds I’ve come to like you most of the time and I thought that you’d respect me enough to not use me like this.”

“I would never use you,” Arthur protested vigorously, offended by the mere idea.

“You don’t even know if you hate yourself for these likings. I notice things, Arthur. I’m not going to risk my life and our friendship, so that you can find out whether the priest was right or wrong. I don’t want you to blame me.”

There was nothing Arthur could say. Merlin was right, except he wasn’t. But how could Arthur explain his obsession with Merlin? How could he explain the panic he felt whenever he saw him laughing with another vaguely handsome servant or squire? And how could he tell him that there was no way for him to find out what he wanted with someone else because he only ever dreamt of Merlin, Merlin naked in his bed, Merlin kissing him, Merlin doing the things he had done to Davin?

They spent the rest of the evening in silence, staring into the flames. Arthur didn’t sleep much that night and the cold, damp forest floor was worse than expected.

***

“Arthur,” Merlin said quietly when they had almost reached the castle around noon. It looked like rain, which fit Arthur’s mood perfectly. “Arthur, I didn’t mean to--”

“It’s all right,” Arthur broke him off.

“No, listen. If you’re just...” Merlin seemed reluctant to go on, which wasn’t surprising, considering the awkwardness of the day so far. “I could tell you who in Camelot wouldn’t turn on you if you ever...”

Arthur couldn’t quite believe his ears. “I don’t need my manservant to find me bed mates,” he bit out and drove his horse on.

Stubborn and stupid as he was, Merlin followed. “That’s not how I meant it, Arthur,” he said when he caught up.

“I don’t think you should give the matter any more thought, Merlin.”

“I just want to help.”

Arthur turned in his saddle, truly furious now. White-hot anger flattened his voice. “You want to be helpful? Stop the dreams!”

Merlin was taken aback. “What? What kind of dreams?”

Arthur laughed nastily. “The ones that are so normal, the kind of dreams every boy has.”

“Wait, what? Who do you dream about?” Merlin asked, confusion colouring his face. How anyone could be so thick was beyond Arthur. He just gave him one hard, long look and then kicked his horse in the flanks and galloped toward the castle.

Humiliated and beside himself with anger, Arthur sent a messenger that he wouldn’t need Merlin’s services for the rest of the day. As tired and worn-out as his brain was, he felt restless and wired. After staring out of his window for hours, he drank a cup of wine and was about to withdraw to bed early - when thunder clapped loudly and his room was lit up by lightning. Arthur smashed the cup against the wall with a furious growl. He was sure that princes weren’t supposed to hit rock bottom quite so often.

“The wine can’t be that bad,” Merlin said from behind him.

Arthur spun around. “I thought my message had been clear.”

Merlin let out a nervous laugh. “As it turns out I’m a bit slow on the uptake.”

“Oh, get out.” Arthur rubbed his face tiredly. There were splashes of wine on his face.

“I never told you that the priest had been in my head during the fight,” Merlin said abruptly.

“So?”

“He saw things he, um, wasn’t supposed to see. But I could see a good bit of his mind, too. He was a fanatic who thought that the end justifies the means. The damage he did to himself through his hatred, Arthur. It scared me that, you know, there may be some of this left inside your mind, too.”

“What kind of things?” Arthur asked despite himself.

“Um, dreams,” Merlin mumbled so low that Arthur had to strain his ears to catch it at all. He surely didn’t mean...

“Merlin, I don’t need anyone’s charity. Contrary to what everyone seems to think I can deal with not having my way,” Arthur said. The silence that followed could have strangled the Questing Beast any day.

“So...you still want me to go?” Merlin asked in a tiny voice. Arthur looked at him, really looked at him then. He still wore his travel-stained clothes and he seemed tense and anxious.

“You never seemed keen on, er, staying before. With me.” With sudden interest, Arthur admired the carvings on the bedpost closest to him.

“Oh.” Merlin laughed breathlessly. “Believe me, I was. Honestly, have you looked in the mirror lately?”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Arthur said, torn between hope and caution.

This seemed to encourage Merlin. He pushed away from the door and approached Arthur slowly, almost as if not to scare him off. The thought of Merlin soothing Arthur like a wounded animal was preposterous. Arthur felt hysterical laughter bubbling up inside him and cleared his throat.

“It never seemed like a good idea before,” Merlin said, coming to a halt on the other side of the bedpost. “Seeing that you can get me on the scaffold rather quickly.” It would be easy to reach out. But no, raised to never sacrifice his pride, this was something he couldn’t bring himself to do. Still a little wary, Arthur eyed Merlin, who was - damn him - biting his lower lip in a very appealing way.

“Ye gods, Merlin! Don’t be ridicu--”

He was cut off by Merlin pulling him closer on the loosened ties of his shirt. Out of reflex, Arthur caught himself against the bedpost before stumbling into Merlin. And then Merlin was kissing him, which was brilliant, but the bedpost was really, really in the way and it wasn’t the thing Arthur wanted to cling to right now. It was only logical to climb onto the bed and skid closer. Kneeling on the bed, he now was a few inches taller than Merlin, whose hand had found its way to the back of Arthur’s neck, somehow making the action of raking fingers through the short hair there erotic. Merlin’s lips were soft and clever, his tongue exploring Arthur’s mouth reverently, and Arthur felt that they could do this forever. Suddenly, Merlin’s other hand pushed under his shirt and Arthur shivered, already desperately and embarrassingly hard by the simple feeling of skin on skin.

But Merlin pulled back, a flicker of uncertainty in his blue eyes. “Arthur, are you sure --”

“Yes, yes. I’m not a girl, Merlin,” Arthur interrupted him, eager to continue.

And Merlin smiled, the mysterious half-smile Arthur liked so much, because it spoke of secrets and forbidden desires. “If you were, I wouldn’t be here.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow and gave him that look, whereupon Merlin’s smile turned into a delighted grin and his hands returned to Arthur’s shirt, pushing it up slowly and deliberately. He ducked his head and began leaving a trail of light kisses on every inch of newly exposed skin. A gesture of devotion, not lust. The thought made Arthur swallow hard. He was glad to hide his face for a moment, as Merlin pulled the shirt over his head.

“What?” Arthur asked when Merlin didn’t do anything then, shirt limp in his hands, eyes on Arthur’s chest.

“Nothing.” Merlin shook his head, mumbling the next words. “Just never expected this to happen.”

“And it won’t if you don’t get undressed this instance,” Arthur said brusquely, feeling pleased and mortified at the same time. Merlin seemed to agree that they would do much better without the talking and pushed Arthur back onto the bed. He knelt before him, eyes fixed on Arthur’s, and started to undress. He wasn’t particularly coy or indecent about it but Arthur was sure that he would like to watch Merlin divest his clothes frequently from now on.

There was heat in Merlin’s gaze but also determination, which Arthur didn’t quite understand until Merlin briefly hesitated before removing his breeches. Naturally, Arthur’s eyes were drawn to Merlin’s cock that jutted out hard and defiant, surrounded by dark, curly hair.

“I won’t die of shock, it’s not that big,” Arthur teased, grazing and avoiding Merlin’s concerns. Merlin’s eyes flashed gold and Arthur found himself wholly and gloriously naked. “Nifty,” he remarked.

Sitting on his calves, Merlin was still watching - and, dammit, not touching - Arthur. For a few more moments, looking back was enough: Merlin was all hard angles and straight lines, with a bony chest and gangly limbs that Arthur found very appealing. But then the need to touch and taste grew too strong to be ignored. With a mock sigh, Arthur straightened up, took Merlin’s hand and pulled him down and on top of him. He sincerely hoped that Merlin hadn’t noticed his sweaty palms. But, oh, this was really happening. Arthur groaned as their cocks brushed and this seemed to have been the secret signal for Merlin, for now his hands and lips seemed to be everywhere at once, stroking and kneading, kissing and licking and frantically touching every inch of Arthur’s skin they could reach. It was impossible not to react in kind and Arthur found that Merlin’s skin was surprisingly smooth, especially his impeccable neck, which tasted a bit salty and like it was begging for more, more, more. But it was his scent that was decidedly different from any girls’ that Arthur had taken to bed, more heady and slightly musky and all Merlin.

Arthur hissed as Merlin’s teeth grazed his left nipple, and arched when he kissed and sucked his way further down. His body had never felt so alive and tightly wired. Mindlessly, he let out a whimper when Merlin’s cheek brushed against his straining prick.

“Arthur,” Merlin said, voice rough with need. His eyes seemed darker and his lips, Gods, his lips were half-parted and moist and gave Arthur all kinds of ideas. “Please, don’t say no, let me--”

“Yes.”

Arthur’s head fell back as he felt the first press of lips against the tip of his cock, soft and tender, a kiss. He sucked in a low breath at the feeling of Merlin’s lips stretching around him, taking him slowly in deeper and deeper and, sucking lightly at the head.

It wasn’t that Merlin’s mouth was more talented than Aliena’s, the laundry maid. But no one had ever asked for sucking Arthur’s cock, no one had ever wanted it and the knowledge that it was Merlin’s tongue licking up his length, Merlin’s cheeks hollowing as he sucked harder, Merlin’s mouth that felt so soft and hot and perfect, was almost too much too bear. And then Merlin hummed around his cock, clearly enjoying this, enjoying to have Arthur in his mouth, and this nearly undid him.

“Merlin, I...oh fuck.” Arthur’s hips bucked on their own accord. Merlin made an obscene slurping noise and only took him in deeper. Arthur forced his eyes open and raised his head. It was like in his dreams, only better, because he never could have imagined this, Merlin’s head bobbing up and down rhythmically, completely focussed on getting Arthur off, his lips stretched tightly around his glistening length, pink and lush against the darker skin of his cock, his eyes half-closed and looking up at him. Arthur came before he knew it, moaning as Merlin didn’t let go but swallowed around him. Merlin’s hands held him firmly down and he sucked and licked every drop out of him, until Arthur felt boneless and empty and exhausted from coming so hard and long.

Breathing hard, he blinked - when had he slumped back into the pillow, legs wantonly open, and how long had he been lying there?

Merlin was hovering, cheeks flushed and lips darker and swollen. He looked pained and as soon as Arthur’s brain caught up with the image, he dragged him up and curled his fingers around Merlin’s desperately hard cock. It amazed him that he didn’t even hesitate, did want this, too. Merlin was slightly thicker but roughly the same size. Arthur moved his hand experimentally. A different angle, yes, but it felt familiar.

Wide-eyed, Merlin pressed closer to his side and kissed Arthur rather messily. He tasted himself on Merlin’s tongue, a tad bitter and salty but not too bad. The thought of him taking Merlin into his mouth, swallowing as much as he could take and sucking him with the same enthusiasm as Merlin had, made his spent cock twitch. Later. For now he stroked him, enjoying the weight of a cock in his hand. And then Merlin broke away and tugged on Arthur’s hand, dragging it up to his mouth and licking the palm once, then leading him back down. He closed his eyes and whimpered, looking gorgeous beyond words. It was easier now, the movements slicker and Merlin thrusting into his grip increasingly faster. Arthur couldn’t tear his eyes away from Merlin’s face, registering every gasp, every spasm of pleasure, and trying to remember what caused it.

“Harder...Arthur, please,” Merlin begged and let out an agonised moan when Arthur complied, speeding up his movements as well.

“Look at me,” Arthur demanded. The unfocussed, needy look Merlin gave him went straight to his groin. He twisted his hand as he reached the base this time and Merlin tensed, his hips stuttered and he breathed a silent ooooh. Arthur marvelled at the feel of another man’s cock jerking and throbbing in his hand. They made a mess but Arthur couldn’t have cared less, too enthralled by how Merlin’s face was drawn in ecstasy, how his arm tightened around Arthur’s waist, and how he, Arthur, had brought this about.

Their sweaty bodies almost melted together as they both calmed down. Merlin sighed, a happy noise if Arthur had ever heard one, and a warm feeling spread all the way through his chest.

“Can you clean us up without moving?” Arthur asked quietly. Merlin didn’t reply but there was a sudden draught that caught in the fastened bed curtains, and then Arthur felt cleaner and less sticky. Somehow Merlin managed to drape himself around Arthur without suffocating him and Arthur, who hadn’t snuggled with anyone in his life, discovered that he quite liked it. Their bodies seemed to fit naturally. What would you think about that, father? Arthur’s arm sneaked around Merlin and came to rest on his back. He had never felt more comfortable.

Morning would come and they would inevitably have to move. Arthur would have to face his father, knowing that he had a secret that would make the king recoil from his son and heir, and sooner or later he would have to ask Merlin what he knew about Morgana’s troubling dreams and about the extent of his own powers. But for now, he was intent on not moving and holding on to the one person who would die for him, not the crown prince of Camelot.

“I didn’t mention anything about you staying here,” Arthur said, then, with a smile.

“Whatever you say,” Merlin mumbled sleepily against his neck, the movement of his lips creating goose bumps on Arthur’s arms.

“I think...I’m still angry with you,” Arthur said, unable to wipe the grin off his face.

Merlin raised his head, blinking rapidly to fight sleep off for a bit longer. Arthur was sure he understood when he smiled softly, said “I know,” and put his head back on Arthur’s shoulder.

The candles flickered and went out, leaving the room in cosy darkness. And Arthur strained his neck and pressed his nose against Merlin’s hair, breathing in the smell of smoke and wood and magic. “Good.”

Fin

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Comments are pagan sacrifices on the altar of love...or something.

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