Fic: The Truth Is You, 2/2 (Arthur/Merlin)
Five days passed with no change in Arthur’s condition. Arthur managed to shirk most of his duties by a stroke of luck. To keep Lady Angora close by in case he really did have to execute her, he had formally requested that the guests stay longer, pleasing his father to no end. No doubt his father and Lord Whatever-His-Name-Was were too busy drawing up marriage contracts to really pay that much attention to what Arthur was really doing.
Currently, Arthur was lying prone on his bed, a cool rag against his forehead to ease the headache there. He had never thought so much in such a short span of time. Arthur had never, in fact, been much of a thinker. He preferred action, the kind of action seen in battle, no time for thoughts. He prized this trait in his knights, the ability to separate the mind and to fight on pure instinct. He had learned over the years the need for thought in diplomacy and grave matters, but he never enjoyed it or relished it.
Now he was worn, dead tired of going through memories, agitating old wounds, and rifling through deeply repressed thoughts that he carefully pushed to the back of his mind. Like the matter of marriage and how it would feel, being bonded to someone he barely knew, not loving them. He thought of his mother, who he might be today if she had lived. He had even, in his most Herculean effort yet, disassembled his relationship with his father and unfurled years upon years of repressed anger, resentment, humiliation, and shame. After several hours of that, he had called for a meal, hoping that this had been enough. A serving girl came in and asked if there was anything else, and he told her that he wanted to see Merlin instead of telling her nothing else was required. She curtseyed and left, and Arthur fell back onto his bed, cold compress on his forehead, miserable and wondering why the hell he wanted to see Merlin. He had thought about his manservant enough on day two of his seclusion. Then again, putting Merlin in his place was always a wonderful stress reliever and required very little thought. His subconscious was obviously seeking means to repair its fragile state.
Merlin came in soon after, wearing an old shift that had only dreamed of being white and breeches, most likely having been woken up to come here. His hair was rumpled and he was blinking blearily, movements lethargic.
“You wanted to see me?”
“Yes,” Arthur said, taking the rag off his forehead and holding it out. “Dip this in that bucket and send someone to the icehouse.”
Merlin scowled, taking the rag. “Arthur, it’s late and it would be unfair to get someone to go all the way to the river in the dark, walk down into the bowels of the icehouse, and gather some ice for your big spoiled head.”
“I should make you do it,” Arthur responded, groaning as Merlin took the rag and Arthur drug his outstretched hand in to clutch at his pounding skull.
“Careful,” Merlin warned in amusement, “In the state you’re in, I just might be able to beat you in a fight.”
Arthur scoffed. “I could have both my arms and legs lobbed off and you’d still be useless in a fight.”
Merlin hummed noncommittally, obviously too sleepy to bicker too much, and placed the newly cooled rag on Arthur’s forehead. Arthur moaned a little in relief and lay prone on the bed, all the world’s suffering on his shoulders. Merlin began to pull Arthur’s boots off and dug under him to retrieve the bed linens. He watched Merlin pull the covers up and essentially tuck Arthur in with great amusement.
“We’ll find a way out of this,” Merlin said, an earnest promise in his voice. Merlin was leaning over Arthur, the laces undone on his night shift, neck reflecting the light of the fire.
“We’d better. I have to see my father in the morning. There are matters I need to attend to, even if he fully believes that I am currently dizzy for the Lady Angora.”
“Well you certainly have an addled mind because of her,” Merlin said equably, straightening and moving toward the door. “Just rest tonight, sire. You’ll need it.”
*
Arthur had never wanted to be anywhere else so much in his entire life. He’d gladly battle some magical beast than to have to endure his father, who was in a cold rage about something this morning.
“I have heard from various sources that you have sequestered yourself in your chambers for the past several days and that the Lady Angora has not left hers in that same time.”
“I thought it would be better if we were seen to be more prudent in our exchanges.”
“This from my son, who would have married the Lady Sophia if I had not forbidden it directly.”
Arthur winced. As if he constantly needed reminding of that debacle. He hardly remembered a thing from it, and he had already spent three hours thinking about it yesterday.
“Therefore I have chosen a wiser course of action this time around.”
Uther glared at him. “You will tell me the meaning behind all of this. Now.”
Arthur had never in his life been so glad that his father tended to order him around rather than just ask nicely.
“It is just as I’ve said. We spend about a half hour a day together to keep modest appearances. I want her to stay longer.”
“She will be leaving tomorrow.”
“Father, you can’t do that,” Arthur said, alarmed.
Uther leaned threateningly over the main dining table. “It is clear that you have no active interest in the girl. Why is it so imperative that this girl, who you so clearly are not enamoured with, stay in Camelot?”
Fuck. “She’s a sorceress and she has placed a spell on me. She must stay so I can be sure that I’m cured.”
Uther turned a shade of red the likes of which Camelot itself had never seen. “If this is the truth, you have been hiding a known practitioner of magic from justice.”
“It’s not like it’s an evil spell, and I brought some of it upon myself.”
“What is this spell?”
“I’m forced to tell the truth.” Arthur closed his eyes for a couple of seconds, a deep knot of dread filling his chest. His father didn’t say a word to this.
“Guards, seize the Lady Angora. She is accused of sorcery.”
*
Lady Angora was to be burned at dawn. Arthur drank deeply from his goblet, systematically attempting to get as drunk as possible. Merlin was pacing before the fireplace, face stricken.
“Would you stop pacing?” Arthur bit out, gently massaging his pounding right temple.
Merlin stopped and turned toward him, resolute. “This isn’t right.”
He sighed heavily. “She’s a sorceress who cast a hex on the crown prince. Her motivations were selfish and petty and could have insurmountable consequences for the kingdom. My father has executed sorcerers for much less.”
“I know that, but I visited her in the dungeon and she wouldn’t stop crying. She just doesn’t like being lied to. Her father always lies to her about things and when you did it to her, she was understandably upset.”
“Understandably?” Arthur plunked his goblet back on the table, moving around it to face Merlin. “She cursed me and you’re defending her!”
“She never meant for this to happen! She thought that you would have cured yourself in less than day. The spell won’t end with her death.”
“And how would you know that Merlin? Because she told you?” Merlin went quiet. Arthur nodded, because of course she did and Merlin, the gullible little idiot, had swallowed it all up. “As I’ve told you before; never trust the word of a sorcerer.”
Merlin stood still for several seconds, and Arthur watched Merlin’s face harden in resolve. “Do you trust me, Arthur?”
“Yes,” Arthur immediately answered. Then he glared at Merlin for making him answer that.
“But you don’t trust the word of a sorcerer?”
“Never,” he answered, pleased that this was clear, but still glaring at Merlin.
“What would you do if I was a sorcerer?”
“I don’t know,” he answered, frowning because that wasn’t right. “That’s a stupid question because you obviously aren’t one.”
“But I am.”
Arthur rolled his eyes. “Not this again. Really, pretending to be a sorcerer to save Gwen is understandable, but one sob story and you’re willing to put your life on the line? I’m fairly sure I can get my father to execute her on a chopping block instead of in a fire…”
“Arthur, stop.” Arthur startled as Merlin whispered something and his eyes seemed to flash gold, but that couldn’t be right. He startled when he saw that the goblet he had been drinking from earlier was hovering at eye level between them. Arthur stood frozen, disbelieving. Then a rage as he had never known swept through him, and all he could think was liar.
“I should have you burned right beside her!” he snarled, knocking the goblet out of the air. Merlin’s face instantly filled with so much pain and hurt that Arthur couldn’t look at it, couldn’t handle this.
“Arthur, I’m sorry…”
“I trusted you, and you took advantage of it. You’ve been lying to me since the day we met. What in all the heavens do you have to say to defend yourself?”
Arthur wasn’t looking directly at Merlin, but he could see the slump of his shoulders and the edge of his anguished jaw.
“You said that you couldn’t trust a sorcerer, but you trust me and I’m a sorcerer.”
Arthur’s eyes snapped back to Merlin’s face. “Ask me again if I trust you.”
“No. I know you don’t, not now. But I trust you. That’s why I’m telling you.”
“You’re telling me now to manipulate me, to try to get me to change my mind about the Lady Angora. If you trusted me, you would have told me the truth back in Ealdor, instead of letting Will lie for you.”
Merlin bristled, as if he had any right to be offended. “My best friend died and as we burned his body, all you could do was warn me against sorcerers like him. Sure he died saving you, but that only let me get away with hiding a sorcerer from you. I’ve saved your life over and over again, just like Will, and I’m a sorcerer.”
That angered Arthur at the same time that it broke something he didn’t know he had inside. “Obviously you only saved my life because it would save your own hide, then. It makes logical sense why you would do it. If the truth were ever found out about you, I would be indebted to you. That’s it, isn’t it? That first time you saved my life you didn’t even like me. You did it to earn a reward.”
“It’s true, I didn’t like you, but I wasn’t going to let you die. I didn’t even know one gave rewards for saving you. You get yourself into so much danger that the most anyone can expect is a fruit basket.”
“And how many times was it because of magic that my life was in danger?”
“Magic is neither good nor bad. I don’t use my magic that way.”
“Oh, so I’m to openly trust that you have never used it to your own advantage? Never once used it to finish chores? I knew my armour was too polished to have been done by a country bumpkin like yourself his first day on the job.”
“And shiny armour is evil now, is it?”
Arthur’s jaw tightened, having enough of this. “You know the penalty for sorcery. Can you give me one good reason, besides saving my life for your own advantage, why I shouldn’t have you executed?”
“The questing beast,” Merlin said, lowering his eyes.
“So you killed it with magic, as I’m sure you did with the griffin as well. If that’s the best you can do…”
“When you were bit by the questing beast, you were going to die. There was no cure for it, except one. To save one life, another life must be given to keep the balance of nature. Only a powerful sorcerer could do the trade. I traveled to the Isle of the Blessed and gave my life for yours.”
Arthur stared. “That can’t be true. You’re still here, how would you have gotten out of it?”
“I was tricked. Nimueh tried to take my mother’s life as payment, so I planned to go back and make her take me. Gaius went before me to give his life, and he nearly did. I killed Nimueh.”
A cold chill ran down Arthur’s spine. “You killed a powerful sorceress? You?”
Merlin gave him a wry smile. “I do have some natural talents, you know.”
“You were saying goodbye to me,” Arthur said, remembering. “The day I began to walk around again after waking up from the fever.”
“Yes.”
“You couldn’t have told me you were a sorcerer even then, when you knew you were going to die?”
Merlin bowed his head, thinking. “I suppose I didn’t want you to remember me like that. I wanted you to remember me as your friend.”
Arthur stood there, letting it all sink in. He wanted to puzzle over the decision of what to do with Merlin now, but all he could think of was what would have happened if Merlin had indeed given his life that day, Arthur never knowing what he did for him. How long would it have taken him to find out? How would Arthur have felt when they brought in Merlin’s body? In all likelihood, there wouldn’t be a body and Arthur would believe Merlin to be missing. How long would Arthur wait before replacing his manservant? How long before his memory would fade?
“I know I’m a sorcerer,” Merlin began, and Arthur felt another rush of anger from just hearing the words. “And my word doesn’t count for anything. And I would lie to you, but never about what matters. I only lied because I was scared, and it just got harder and harder the longer I waited. But I couldn’t let Lady Angora die when I could do something about it. I would have magicked Gwen from the pyre in front of the king if I had to. I would rather die an agonizing death than to see you die. Sometimes it scares me, what I would do to see you live. If that isn’t answer enough to any question you have of me, then I’ll gladly walk into the fire myself.”
There was nothing for it; Arthur turned away, breathing harshly, hearing the pounding of his own heart. Arthur was weak. He was being manipulated again. His father warned him of sorcerers, that they bear no sign of the mark. There is no sense of evil. If ever there was an enchanter who fit this description, it was Merlin. Merlin who had made an idiot of him, had sailed below Arthur’s notice, had known how to get Arthur to trust him and care about him.
“You certainly know what to say to make a fool of me,” Arthur drawled, turning back to Merlin, forcing himself to see the revealed sorcerer behind the mask of his friend. He wouldn’t appear. “You are banished from here. You must leave this place.”
Merlin, the daft idiot, shook his head. “I won’t leave.”
“Most would be pleased that I extended that much lenience. Do you want to be executed?”
“I won’t leave you. You need me.”
“How arrogant of you. I’d say I didn’t know you had it in you, but I don’t know what you are anymore.”
“You need me. And I need you. I was born like this, born with magic, and all my life I have seen it as a burden and something to be ashamed of. But coming here, and protecting you, it has given it meaning. It’s like I was born this way for a reason, for a destiny. By asking me to leave here, you’re asking me to take away the only thing that gave my life meaning.”
Arthur, enraged, took Merlin by the shoulders and shook him, despite knowing that Merlin could easily eviscerate him with a hot poker.
“Find another destiny!” he yelled into Merlin’s face. Merlin gripped Arthur’s upper arms tightly, less like he was trying to fight than he was trying to keep himself from falling off a cliff face.
“Arthur, just listen to me...”
“I won’t watch you die!” Arthur blanched at his words the same time as Merlin gasped and flushed from them. Then Merlin did the unthinkable, and leaned forward and caught Arthur’s mouth with his own. Arthur’s eyes fell closed and he was kissing back fiercely, anger coursing through his veins. His hands moved from their grip on Merlin’s shoulders to slide down Merlin’s back, possessive. Merlin moved his hands to Arthur’s hips and Arthur gasped into Merlin’s mouth, the kiss turning desperate. He moved one hand to grab the back of Merlin’s neck, fingers pushing into his hair, using the hold to angle Merlin’s head until the kiss impossibly deepened. It went on and on, stretching impossibly long. Arthur was shivering, a slow fire burning down his spine. As it was, he tried to block out his fears, to stop all this, but all he could imagine was Merlin screaming in agony, flames engulfing him, and Arthur knew he could never watch that happen. He would have dove into the flames himself, in front of his father and Camelot.
Merlin made a small sound in the back of his throat, and Arthur felt his fingers slide minutely into his trousers. Arthur growled and backed Merlin up to the table, getting a knee between Merlin’s legs and scrabbling at his trouser lacings. Merlin broke the kiss to pant hot and wet into Arthur’s neck, unskillfully trying to undo Arthur’s pants in return. Finally, they both managed to push enough clothing aside and they moved together, resuming their kiss, moaning into each other’s mouths as their cocks slid between their bodies, the small amount of friction enough to leave them shaking and gasping. It didn’t last long. Merlin came first, crying out softly, shuddering. Arthur pulled away enough to look at Merlin, his emotions all over the place, and saw that Merlin had a huge, ridiculous, self-satisfied look on his face like he did when he put Arthur’s armor on properly or he solved the riddle of how to drink poison from a single goblet, and Arthur, surprised, began to laugh as he went over the edge.
“Am I that bad?” Merlin asked, amused. Arthur kept huffing out breaths of laughter as he came down, drunkenly resting his forehead against Merlin’s. He turned serious as a minute passed and he began to think again. Sensing the change, Merlin quieted as well, his arms holding Arthur a bit tighter. Arthur drug his head from Merlin’s and looked at him, even if what he really wanted to do was manfully flee from having to face this right now, but he’d be damned if he was going to run from Merlin. Even if he was a big powerful sorcerer, the notion itself was too ridiculous and he’d rather be struck dead.
“If I ordered you not to save her, would you do it anyway?”
Merlin hesitated a moment, but then nodded firmly, a determined glint in his eye. “Would you stop me?” Merlin asked.
Arthur gave it a few ticks, then grudgingly shook his head. Merlin gave him a look of surprised glee.
“Arthur, the spell!” he said, smiling.
“What about it?”
“You didn’t answer right away. Arthur, what is your favorite type of food?”
Arthur, in a daze, drug up a lie. “Porridge.”
“You did it!”
“Or the Lady Angora decided to lift the spell.”
Merlin frowned at him, deflating. Good god, was Arthur really feeling sorry for wiping that joy from Merlin’s face? Apparently he was, because he pulled away, hitching up his trousers as regally as one could ever manage. Misinterpreting the action, Merlin frowned further, not so regally righting his own ruined clothing.
“Well, come on then,” Arthur said, as lightly as he could manage. “Show me what you can do.”
Merlin smiled brilliantly.
*
“I can’t believe how bloody simple that was,” Arthur raged as the three of them rode slowly from Camelot, the surrounding woods extremely dark from there being no moon. It was windy and Lady Angora was riding in front of him, recuperating from her near death experience, hair tickling Arthur’s nose incessantly.
“What did you expect?” Merlin countered, having the gall to sound even the least bit smug.
“All this time you knew that all you had to do was bat your eyelashes and keys would fly to your hands. I can’t even begin to count the number of times that would have been helpful to know.”
“It’s not like I can do magic all the time like that, especially with others watching. I tend to save it for when you decide to bravely get yourself killed. I don’t know how you survived so long before I came to Camelot.”
“Not everyone has to rely on magic to get along, Merlin,” he scoffed, cursing as another tree branch scraped his face. “You think you can somehow summon a light or is that too mundane?”
“That depends on if you’re admitting that you need magic right now.”
“I don’t need magic to navigate a forest I’ve been playing in my entire life,” he announced scornfully right before he smacked into a low hanging branch. Merlin laughed delightedly and Arthur was beginning to change his mind about keeping Merlin safe.
Except not for a second, and that really put Arthur in a bad mood.
“I’ll summon a light, even if you don’t need it sire.” Merlin intoned a spell in a language that never stopped setting Arthur’s teeth on edge, years of hating and fearing it twisting through him. Arthur almost fell out of his saddle as a familiar blue orb of light floated a few feet in front of them, illuminating the path. Stunned speechless, Arthur looked over at Merlin, who had a matching little orb in his palm. Merlin didn’t look smug now. He looked faintly sheepish and like he had done that spell without thinking.
“It was you,” Arthur said, wonder lacing his voice because he was unable to hide it. That had been the first time he had ever known that magic could be used for good.
“Gaius told me. I didn’t know how I did it, as I was unconscious at the time, but he said I kept calling out for you, sensing danger, and we figured out what spell I used later.”
Arthur continued to stare at Merlin as more and more pieces fit, how even if all other magic in the world was evil and dark and should be eradicated, Merlin’s magic was good or maybe it was all the same magic and Merlin was just one of many that used it like this. Merlin blushed a little, turning away and Arthur tried to collect himself as he realized he had probably been gazing at Merlin in a decidedly besotted way, framed by soft magical light.
They reached a crossroad and Arthur dismounted and helped Lady Angora to the ground.
“Will you be all right?” Merlin asked gently, handing her a bag filled with food, a change of clothes, and a bit of money.
“No,” she said, quite honestly and sadly. “I can’t go home. My father has disowned me to retain the kingdom’s alliance with Camelot. But I’ll be okay, I still have my magic and I know how to weave. I can blend in at a village, change my looks a little. I just…will miss my home, family, and friends.”
She looked down at the ground, radiating pain. Arthur briefly imagined having to be exiled from Camelot. It would be a fate worse than death for him. He tentatively reached up and placed a hand on her shoulder.
“When I am king, you will be welcome in Camelot,” he told her. It was the first promise he would make as king and he knew that it wasn’t entirely directed toward her. He felt Merlin at his back, and hoped that Merlin understood that when he was king, Merlin would never have to fear again.
She looked up again and smiled. “I shall be patiently awaiting that day, your highness. Until then, may you be well.”
She walked down one of the roads, a day’s ride from the nearest village. Arthur turned to look at Merlin, and Merlin was looking at him like Arthur had just returned from hanging the moon. Arthur, for the first time, terribly and consciously wanted to kiss Merlin. He then realised that he could, so he did, gently and with purpose. Merlin stopped the kiss, his hands cupping Arthur’s face in an entirely girly manner that Arthur did not enjoy at all, really.
“I think you’ll be a decent king, Arthur Pendragon.”
Arthur scowled. “Decent? If I ever manage to get you to behave like a decent manservant for a single day, I’ll become a legend.”
End
Currently, Arthur was lying prone on his bed, a cool rag against his forehead to ease the headache there. He had never thought so much in such a short span of time. Arthur had never, in fact, been much of a thinker. He preferred action, the kind of action seen in battle, no time for thoughts. He prized this trait in his knights, the ability to separate the mind and to fight on pure instinct. He had learned over the years the need for thought in diplomacy and grave matters, but he never enjoyed it or relished it.
Now he was worn, dead tired of going through memories, agitating old wounds, and rifling through deeply repressed thoughts that he carefully pushed to the back of his mind. Like the matter of marriage and how it would feel, being bonded to someone he barely knew, not loving them. He thought of his mother, who he might be today if she had lived. He had even, in his most Herculean effort yet, disassembled his relationship with his father and unfurled years upon years of repressed anger, resentment, humiliation, and shame. After several hours of that, he had called for a meal, hoping that this had been enough. A serving girl came in and asked if there was anything else, and he told her that he wanted to see Merlin instead of telling her nothing else was required. She curtseyed and left, and Arthur fell back onto his bed, cold compress on his forehead, miserable and wondering why the hell he wanted to see Merlin. He had thought about his manservant enough on day two of his seclusion. Then again, putting Merlin in his place was always a wonderful stress reliever and required very little thought. His subconscious was obviously seeking means to repair its fragile state.
Merlin came in soon after, wearing an old shift that had only dreamed of being white and breeches, most likely having been woken up to come here. His hair was rumpled and he was blinking blearily, movements lethargic.
“You wanted to see me?”
“Yes,” Arthur said, taking the rag off his forehead and holding it out. “Dip this in that bucket and send someone to the icehouse.”
Merlin scowled, taking the rag. “Arthur, it’s late and it would be unfair to get someone to go all the way to the river in the dark, walk down into the bowels of the icehouse, and gather some ice for your big spoiled head.”
“I should make you do it,” Arthur responded, groaning as Merlin took the rag and Arthur drug his outstretched hand in to clutch at his pounding skull.
“Careful,” Merlin warned in amusement, “In the state you’re in, I just might be able to beat you in a fight.”
Arthur scoffed. “I could have both my arms and legs lobbed off and you’d still be useless in a fight.”
Merlin hummed noncommittally, obviously too sleepy to bicker too much, and placed the newly cooled rag on Arthur’s forehead. Arthur moaned a little in relief and lay prone on the bed, all the world’s suffering on his shoulders. Merlin began to pull Arthur’s boots off and dug under him to retrieve the bed linens. He watched Merlin pull the covers up and essentially tuck Arthur in with great amusement.
“We’ll find a way out of this,” Merlin said, an earnest promise in his voice. Merlin was leaning over Arthur, the laces undone on his night shift, neck reflecting the light of the fire.
“We’d better. I have to see my father in the morning. There are matters I need to attend to, even if he fully believes that I am currently dizzy for the Lady Angora.”
“Well you certainly have an addled mind because of her,” Merlin said equably, straightening and moving toward the door. “Just rest tonight, sire. You’ll need it.”
*
Arthur had never wanted to be anywhere else so much in his entire life. He’d gladly battle some magical beast than to have to endure his father, who was in a cold rage about something this morning.
“I have heard from various sources that you have sequestered yourself in your chambers for the past several days and that the Lady Angora has not left hers in that same time.”
“I thought it would be better if we were seen to be more prudent in our exchanges.”
“This from my son, who would have married the Lady Sophia if I had not forbidden it directly.”
Arthur winced. As if he constantly needed reminding of that debacle. He hardly remembered a thing from it, and he had already spent three hours thinking about it yesterday.
“Therefore I have chosen a wiser course of action this time around.”
Uther glared at him. “You will tell me the meaning behind all of this. Now.”
Arthur had never in his life been so glad that his father tended to order him around rather than just ask nicely.
“It is just as I’ve said. We spend about a half hour a day together to keep modest appearances. I want her to stay longer.”
“She will be leaving tomorrow.”
“Father, you can’t do that,” Arthur said, alarmed.
Uther leaned threateningly over the main dining table. “It is clear that you have no active interest in the girl. Why is it so imperative that this girl, who you so clearly are not enamoured with, stay in Camelot?”
Fuck. “She’s a sorceress and she has placed a spell on me. She must stay so I can be sure that I’m cured.”
Uther turned a shade of red the likes of which Camelot itself had never seen. “If this is the truth, you have been hiding a known practitioner of magic from justice.”
“It’s not like it’s an evil spell, and I brought some of it upon myself.”
“What is this spell?”
“I’m forced to tell the truth.” Arthur closed his eyes for a couple of seconds, a deep knot of dread filling his chest. His father didn’t say a word to this.
“Guards, seize the Lady Angora. She is accused of sorcery.”
*
Lady Angora was to be burned at dawn. Arthur drank deeply from his goblet, systematically attempting to get as drunk as possible. Merlin was pacing before the fireplace, face stricken.
“Would you stop pacing?” Arthur bit out, gently massaging his pounding right temple.
Merlin stopped and turned toward him, resolute. “This isn’t right.”
He sighed heavily. “She’s a sorceress who cast a hex on the crown prince. Her motivations were selfish and petty and could have insurmountable consequences for the kingdom. My father has executed sorcerers for much less.”
“I know that, but I visited her in the dungeon and she wouldn’t stop crying. She just doesn’t like being lied to. Her father always lies to her about things and when you did it to her, she was understandably upset.”
“Understandably?” Arthur plunked his goblet back on the table, moving around it to face Merlin. “She cursed me and you’re defending her!”
“She never meant for this to happen! She thought that you would have cured yourself in less than day. The spell won’t end with her death.”
“And how would you know that Merlin? Because she told you?” Merlin went quiet. Arthur nodded, because of course she did and Merlin, the gullible little idiot, had swallowed it all up. “As I’ve told you before; never trust the word of a sorcerer.”
Merlin stood still for several seconds, and Arthur watched Merlin’s face harden in resolve. “Do you trust me, Arthur?”
“Yes,” Arthur immediately answered. Then he glared at Merlin for making him answer that.
“But you don’t trust the word of a sorcerer?”
“Never,” he answered, pleased that this was clear, but still glaring at Merlin.
“What would you do if I was a sorcerer?”
“I don’t know,” he answered, frowning because that wasn’t right. “That’s a stupid question because you obviously aren’t one.”
“But I am.”
Arthur rolled his eyes. “Not this again. Really, pretending to be a sorcerer to save Gwen is understandable, but one sob story and you’re willing to put your life on the line? I’m fairly sure I can get my father to execute her on a chopping block instead of in a fire…”
“Arthur, stop.” Arthur startled as Merlin whispered something and his eyes seemed to flash gold, but that couldn’t be right. He startled when he saw that the goblet he had been drinking from earlier was hovering at eye level between them. Arthur stood frozen, disbelieving. Then a rage as he had never known swept through him, and all he could think was liar.
“I should have you burned right beside her!” he snarled, knocking the goblet out of the air. Merlin’s face instantly filled with so much pain and hurt that Arthur couldn’t look at it, couldn’t handle this.
“Arthur, I’m sorry…”
“I trusted you, and you took advantage of it. You’ve been lying to me since the day we met. What in all the heavens do you have to say to defend yourself?”
Arthur wasn’t looking directly at Merlin, but he could see the slump of his shoulders and the edge of his anguished jaw.
“You said that you couldn’t trust a sorcerer, but you trust me and I’m a sorcerer.”
Arthur’s eyes snapped back to Merlin’s face. “Ask me again if I trust you.”
“No. I know you don’t, not now. But I trust you. That’s why I’m telling you.”
“You’re telling me now to manipulate me, to try to get me to change my mind about the Lady Angora. If you trusted me, you would have told me the truth back in Ealdor, instead of letting Will lie for you.”
Merlin bristled, as if he had any right to be offended. “My best friend died and as we burned his body, all you could do was warn me against sorcerers like him. Sure he died saving you, but that only let me get away with hiding a sorcerer from you. I’ve saved your life over and over again, just like Will, and I’m a sorcerer.”
That angered Arthur at the same time that it broke something he didn’t know he had inside. “Obviously you only saved my life because it would save your own hide, then. It makes logical sense why you would do it. If the truth were ever found out about you, I would be indebted to you. That’s it, isn’t it? That first time you saved my life you didn’t even like me. You did it to earn a reward.”
“It’s true, I didn’t like you, but I wasn’t going to let you die. I didn’t even know one gave rewards for saving you. You get yourself into so much danger that the most anyone can expect is a fruit basket.”
“And how many times was it because of magic that my life was in danger?”
“Magic is neither good nor bad. I don’t use my magic that way.”
“Oh, so I’m to openly trust that you have never used it to your own advantage? Never once used it to finish chores? I knew my armour was too polished to have been done by a country bumpkin like yourself his first day on the job.”
“And shiny armour is evil now, is it?”
Arthur’s jaw tightened, having enough of this. “You know the penalty for sorcery. Can you give me one good reason, besides saving my life for your own advantage, why I shouldn’t have you executed?”
“The questing beast,” Merlin said, lowering his eyes.
“So you killed it with magic, as I’m sure you did with the griffin as well. If that’s the best you can do…”
“When you were bit by the questing beast, you were going to die. There was no cure for it, except one. To save one life, another life must be given to keep the balance of nature. Only a powerful sorcerer could do the trade. I traveled to the Isle of the Blessed and gave my life for yours.”
Arthur stared. “That can’t be true. You’re still here, how would you have gotten out of it?”
“I was tricked. Nimueh tried to take my mother’s life as payment, so I planned to go back and make her take me. Gaius went before me to give his life, and he nearly did. I killed Nimueh.”
A cold chill ran down Arthur’s spine. “You killed a powerful sorceress? You?”
Merlin gave him a wry smile. “I do have some natural talents, you know.”
“You were saying goodbye to me,” Arthur said, remembering. “The day I began to walk around again after waking up from the fever.”
“Yes.”
“You couldn’t have told me you were a sorcerer even then, when you knew you were going to die?”
Merlin bowed his head, thinking. “I suppose I didn’t want you to remember me like that. I wanted you to remember me as your friend.”
Arthur stood there, letting it all sink in. He wanted to puzzle over the decision of what to do with Merlin now, but all he could think of was what would have happened if Merlin had indeed given his life that day, Arthur never knowing what he did for him. How long would it have taken him to find out? How would Arthur have felt when they brought in Merlin’s body? In all likelihood, there wouldn’t be a body and Arthur would believe Merlin to be missing. How long would Arthur wait before replacing his manservant? How long before his memory would fade?
“I know I’m a sorcerer,” Merlin began, and Arthur felt another rush of anger from just hearing the words. “And my word doesn’t count for anything. And I would lie to you, but never about what matters. I only lied because I was scared, and it just got harder and harder the longer I waited. But I couldn’t let Lady Angora die when I could do something about it. I would have magicked Gwen from the pyre in front of the king if I had to. I would rather die an agonizing death than to see you die. Sometimes it scares me, what I would do to see you live. If that isn’t answer enough to any question you have of me, then I’ll gladly walk into the fire myself.”
There was nothing for it; Arthur turned away, breathing harshly, hearing the pounding of his own heart. Arthur was weak. He was being manipulated again. His father warned him of sorcerers, that they bear no sign of the mark. There is no sense of evil. If ever there was an enchanter who fit this description, it was Merlin. Merlin who had made an idiot of him, had sailed below Arthur’s notice, had known how to get Arthur to trust him and care about him.
“You certainly know what to say to make a fool of me,” Arthur drawled, turning back to Merlin, forcing himself to see the revealed sorcerer behind the mask of his friend. He wouldn’t appear. “You are banished from here. You must leave this place.”
Merlin, the daft idiot, shook his head. “I won’t leave.”
“Most would be pleased that I extended that much lenience. Do you want to be executed?”
“I won’t leave you. You need me.”
“How arrogant of you. I’d say I didn’t know you had it in you, but I don’t know what you are anymore.”
“You need me. And I need you. I was born like this, born with magic, and all my life I have seen it as a burden and something to be ashamed of. But coming here, and protecting you, it has given it meaning. It’s like I was born this way for a reason, for a destiny. By asking me to leave here, you’re asking me to take away the only thing that gave my life meaning.”
Arthur, enraged, took Merlin by the shoulders and shook him, despite knowing that Merlin could easily eviscerate him with a hot poker.
“Find another destiny!” he yelled into Merlin’s face. Merlin gripped Arthur’s upper arms tightly, less like he was trying to fight than he was trying to keep himself from falling off a cliff face.
“Arthur, just listen to me...”
“I won’t watch you die!” Arthur blanched at his words the same time as Merlin gasped and flushed from them. Then Merlin did the unthinkable, and leaned forward and caught Arthur’s mouth with his own. Arthur’s eyes fell closed and he was kissing back fiercely, anger coursing through his veins. His hands moved from their grip on Merlin’s shoulders to slide down Merlin’s back, possessive. Merlin moved his hands to Arthur’s hips and Arthur gasped into Merlin’s mouth, the kiss turning desperate. He moved one hand to grab the back of Merlin’s neck, fingers pushing into his hair, using the hold to angle Merlin’s head until the kiss impossibly deepened. It went on and on, stretching impossibly long. Arthur was shivering, a slow fire burning down his spine. As it was, he tried to block out his fears, to stop all this, but all he could imagine was Merlin screaming in agony, flames engulfing him, and Arthur knew he could never watch that happen. He would have dove into the flames himself, in front of his father and Camelot.
Merlin made a small sound in the back of his throat, and Arthur felt his fingers slide minutely into his trousers. Arthur growled and backed Merlin up to the table, getting a knee between Merlin’s legs and scrabbling at his trouser lacings. Merlin broke the kiss to pant hot and wet into Arthur’s neck, unskillfully trying to undo Arthur’s pants in return. Finally, they both managed to push enough clothing aside and they moved together, resuming their kiss, moaning into each other’s mouths as their cocks slid between their bodies, the small amount of friction enough to leave them shaking and gasping. It didn’t last long. Merlin came first, crying out softly, shuddering. Arthur pulled away enough to look at Merlin, his emotions all over the place, and saw that Merlin had a huge, ridiculous, self-satisfied look on his face like he did when he put Arthur’s armor on properly or he solved the riddle of how to drink poison from a single goblet, and Arthur, surprised, began to laugh as he went over the edge.
“Am I that bad?” Merlin asked, amused. Arthur kept huffing out breaths of laughter as he came down, drunkenly resting his forehead against Merlin’s. He turned serious as a minute passed and he began to think again. Sensing the change, Merlin quieted as well, his arms holding Arthur a bit tighter. Arthur drug his head from Merlin’s and looked at him, even if what he really wanted to do was manfully flee from having to face this right now, but he’d be damned if he was going to run from Merlin. Even if he was a big powerful sorcerer, the notion itself was too ridiculous and he’d rather be struck dead.
“If I ordered you not to save her, would you do it anyway?”
Merlin hesitated a moment, but then nodded firmly, a determined glint in his eye. “Would you stop me?” Merlin asked.
Arthur gave it a few ticks, then grudgingly shook his head. Merlin gave him a look of surprised glee.
“Arthur, the spell!” he said, smiling.
“What about it?”
“You didn’t answer right away. Arthur, what is your favorite type of food?”
Arthur, in a daze, drug up a lie. “Porridge.”
“You did it!”
“Or the Lady Angora decided to lift the spell.”
Merlin frowned at him, deflating. Good god, was Arthur really feeling sorry for wiping that joy from Merlin’s face? Apparently he was, because he pulled away, hitching up his trousers as regally as one could ever manage. Misinterpreting the action, Merlin frowned further, not so regally righting his own ruined clothing.
“Well, come on then,” Arthur said, as lightly as he could manage. “Show me what you can do.”
Merlin smiled brilliantly.
*
“I can’t believe how bloody simple that was,” Arthur raged as the three of them rode slowly from Camelot, the surrounding woods extremely dark from there being no moon. It was windy and Lady Angora was riding in front of him, recuperating from her near death experience, hair tickling Arthur’s nose incessantly.
“What did you expect?” Merlin countered, having the gall to sound even the least bit smug.
“All this time you knew that all you had to do was bat your eyelashes and keys would fly to your hands. I can’t even begin to count the number of times that would have been helpful to know.”
“It’s not like I can do magic all the time like that, especially with others watching. I tend to save it for when you decide to bravely get yourself killed. I don’t know how you survived so long before I came to Camelot.”
“Not everyone has to rely on magic to get along, Merlin,” he scoffed, cursing as another tree branch scraped his face. “You think you can somehow summon a light or is that too mundane?”
“That depends on if you’re admitting that you need magic right now.”
“I don’t need magic to navigate a forest I’ve been playing in my entire life,” he announced scornfully right before he smacked into a low hanging branch. Merlin laughed delightedly and Arthur was beginning to change his mind about keeping Merlin safe.
Except not for a second, and that really put Arthur in a bad mood.
“I’ll summon a light, even if you don’t need it sire.” Merlin intoned a spell in a language that never stopped setting Arthur’s teeth on edge, years of hating and fearing it twisting through him. Arthur almost fell out of his saddle as a familiar blue orb of light floated a few feet in front of them, illuminating the path. Stunned speechless, Arthur looked over at Merlin, who had a matching little orb in his palm. Merlin didn’t look smug now. He looked faintly sheepish and like he had done that spell without thinking.
“It was you,” Arthur said, wonder lacing his voice because he was unable to hide it. That had been the first time he had ever known that magic could be used for good.
“Gaius told me. I didn’t know how I did it, as I was unconscious at the time, but he said I kept calling out for you, sensing danger, and we figured out what spell I used later.”
Arthur continued to stare at Merlin as more and more pieces fit, how even if all other magic in the world was evil and dark and should be eradicated, Merlin’s magic was good or maybe it was all the same magic and Merlin was just one of many that used it like this. Merlin blushed a little, turning away and Arthur tried to collect himself as he realized he had probably been gazing at Merlin in a decidedly besotted way, framed by soft magical light.
They reached a crossroad and Arthur dismounted and helped Lady Angora to the ground.
“Will you be all right?” Merlin asked gently, handing her a bag filled with food, a change of clothes, and a bit of money.
“No,” she said, quite honestly and sadly. “I can’t go home. My father has disowned me to retain the kingdom’s alliance with Camelot. But I’ll be okay, I still have my magic and I know how to weave. I can blend in at a village, change my looks a little. I just…will miss my home, family, and friends.”
She looked down at the ground, radiating pain. Arthur briefly imagined having to be exiled from Camelot. It would be a fate worse than death for him. He tentatively reached up and placed a hand on her shoulder.
“When I am king, you will be welcome in Camelot,” he told her. It was the first promise he would make as king and he knew that it wasn’t entirely directed toward her. He felt Merlin at his back, and hoped that Merlin understood that when he was king, Merlin would never have to fear again.
She looked up again and smiled. “I shall be patiently awaiting that day, your highness. Until then, may you be well.”
She walked down one of the roads, a day’s ride from the nearest village. Arthur turned to look at Merlin, and Merlin was looking at him like Arthur had just returned from hanging the moon. Arthur, for the first time, terribly and consciously wanted to kiss Merlin. He then realised that he could, so he did, gently and with purpose. Merlin stopped the kiss, his hands cupping Arthur’s face in an entirely girly manner that Arthur did not enjoy at all, really.
“I think you’ll be a decent king, Arthur Pendragon.”
Arthur scowled. “Decent? If I ever manage to get you to behave like a decent manservant for a single day, I’ll become a legend.”
End