FIC: The Tournament of All Magicks (Merlin, 3/4)
Continued from Chapter 2
The misery had overcome all but the most stubborn core of the trust by the time Merlin lay alone in bed that night.
After Arthur left, Merlin had wandered without aim. He found himself back at the tournament field and climbed into the stands. It was somewhere to sit, and somewhere Arthur would think to check if he came looking for Merlin.
Arthur did not come. Merlin sat and stared at the field while the rest of the crowd rose up and down around him in surging excitement. He had missed Niniane's match, which was just as well. By the end of the day, the rest of the competition was a blur around an endless reanalysis of every word he and Arthur had exchanged.
On the way back to the inn, he stopped and stared at the seers. As one, they lifted their heads and stared back at him. He wanted badly to know what they had said to Arthur before Morgause had lured him away, but he knew better than to ask.
At the inn, he sat down in the tavern. "Your friend joining you, dearie?" the barmaid asked as she set a tankard of mead down in front of him.
"I don't know," he said. She patted him on the shoulder and brought him his dinner for one.
He shoveled the food into his mouth without tasting it. The magic had left him famished; Arthur had left him with no appetite.
While he ate, other patrons stared at him and whispered. "Emrys," he heard one of them exclaim before being shushed by her neighbor. His anonymity had taken a serious blow on all fronts today. Glory, it turned out, was nothing like he had imagined. He went upstairs as soon as he finished.
His stomach churned as he opened the door to their dark room, but Arthur was not there. A wave of relief nearly dizzied him when he saw Arthur's pack still lying by the bed. Part of him had been certain that Arthur would be halfway back to Camelot by now, already writing Merlin's banishment decree in his head.
He sat on the bed, drew his knees up under his chin, and watched the candles flicker. When he felt too pathetic to be allowed to breathe, let alone call himself a fabled warlock, he extinguished the candles with a thought and stretched out on top of the quilt.
Exhaustion drew him into a fitful doze, slipping in and out of fretful dreams. At one point he thought he was talking to Arthur, but woke to the unbroken silence of the empty room.
When the door finally opened, Merlin thought it was still a dream. His muzzy thoughts sharpened slowly with Arthur's footsteps as he crossed the room. One boot hit the floor with a thud as Arthur pulled it off, then the other. He was making no effort to be quiet.
Merlin was fully awake by the time Arthur climbed up onto the bed, though he kept his eyes closed, body stiff. Arthur did not lie down beside him, but shifted around before settling into stillness.
After a long moment, a finger poked Merlin in the hip. He cracked open one eye to see Arthur sitting facing him, watching Merlin with an expression of deathly calm.
"This is your chance to tell me everything," he said when Merlin's eyes opened fully. "Everything you've ever lied about or withheld from me, this is your one chance for honesty."
Slowly, Merlin pulled himself upright and mimicked Arthur's cross-legged pose. He rested his hands in his lap and let his knees press against Arthur's. Merlin wanted Arthur to feel the solid reality of him, Arthur's friend.
"All right," he agreed, matching Arthur's solemnity, and lifted his hand to light the candles around the room.
Arthur did not flinch. "Everything," he reminded Merlin. "If you lie again, I won't forgive it."
Merlin nodded his understanding. Then he took a deep breath and started talking.
He left nothing out--or almost nothing. His eyes stayed trained on Arthur's face, cataloging every reaction. He barely paused for breath.
Arthur listened, mostly in silence. Emotions flashed across his face from time to time. He looked startled when Merlin mentioned the lights in the cave and impressed when Merlin described his defeat of Nimueh, though Merlin carefully edited his explanation of what his bargain with her had entailed. He was not sure he was ready for Arthur to know the full extent of the magic's betrayal or his own devotion.
Sometimes, Arthur interjected. "I said not to lie," he put in sharply, bright red even in the candlelight as Merlin took care to share every detail of Arthur's behavior under the influence of Sophia.
"I am not lying," Merlin promised with relish. He had waited a long time to rub this in. "And I'm not done. We haven't even discussed Vivian yet."
Other times, Arthur's face grew grim. "What kind of potion was Gaius giving Morgana?" he asked as Merlin picked his way painfully through the truth of what had happened to her. "Who was she talking to? Did you actually see where she went?"
Merlin's voice was almost gone by the time he finished with the story of his encounters with Morgause there in Banncroft. Arthur had leaned his elbows onto his thighs, putting his head where Merlin could rest his own head on Arthur's hair if he bent just a little.
He was exhausted and empty and had nothing left to lose--so he did just that. Arthur's hair was soft under his cheek. When Arthur's fingers brushed his, he had to scrunch his eyes shut to hold back the sudden burn. He knew he was forgiven.
Arthur straightened up after a few minutes and swiped the moisture from Merlin's eyes with his fingers. "You may be some kind of powerful sorcerer, Merlin, but you're still a girl."
"And you're still a plonker," Merlin shot back, though he knew he was smiling stupidly.
Arthur smiled stupidly back, but abruptly stopped and made a gruff noise. "So what are we going to do about Morgause? What's her real game?"
"I'm not sure," Merlin admitted. "She wants to bring down your father more than anything, but I don't know why she hates him so much. Well, any more than any other sorcerer, I suppose."
Arthur raised his eyebrows.
"Just for the obvious reasons," Merlin finished. "Er."
"Do you hate him?" Arthur asked, blunt and offering no quarter. "You must, surely."
Merlin hesitated, wondering if the compunction to honesty applied to this. "I try not to think about that too much. He's the king and your father."
"And he took yours from you." Arthur looked down again. "And my mother from me. I noticed how carefully you avoided mentioning either of them just now, but you must feel something about that."
"Of course I do, but it doesn't change my duty or yours," Merlin said. "It doesn't change the fact that he's your father and he loves you."
"It changes a lot of things."
He resigned himself to giving up the last of his secrets. Arthur had the right to know and make his own judgments. Merlin had to trust him. "Nimueh, the sorceress. I didn't quite tell you the whole story about how she died."
"Merlin." Arthur groaned and tipped his head back. "Why is it so hard for you to be honest with me?"
"We're still in the amnesty period," Merlin reminded him. "And I didn't really want to talk about you dying."
Arthur shifted impatiently. "At the risk of pointing out the fucking obvious--"
"The Questing Beast killed you, Arthur. You just hadn't stopped breathing yet." Merlin dropped his head so Arthur would not see the memory in his face. "I tried every spell and potion anyone's ever invented, but you just kept slipping away."
Arthur's fingers curled around his bare ankle like a shackle. "So you went to Nimueh and got the water of life to save me. She tried to double cross you, so you killed her. You told me this already."
"I didn't tell you how she double crossed me."
"She tried to kill you."
"No, she was supposed to kill me. That was our deal."
Arthur's arm went stiff, his fingers tightening on Merlin's ankle. "What deal?" he said. "What deal, Merlin?"
"The Old Religion has the power over life and death, but there's always a price." Merlin watched the tendons flex in Arthur's hand. "If you ask for a life, you have to give a life back to restore the balance."
"Merlin," Arthur ground out, sounding like his throat had turned to stone. "You idiot. You bloody fucking idiot."
"Don't you dare." Merlin looked up sharply, eyes burning into Arthur's. "It was my right to give my life for yours. I'd do it again. Someday, I probably will."
Arthur looked back, breathing ragged, but saying nothing.
Merlin looked away again. "But the Old Religion doesn't honor its bargains. I offered my life, and she tried to take my mother. When I fought her, she tried to take Gaius. So I paid the price with her life instead."
He watched Arthur's knuckles turn white. "Your mother?"
"Fine. We're all fine." And because of that, he would never regret what he had done. "Once the balance was restored, it was over."
Arthur leaned closer, until he was almost leaning on Merlin. "What are you saying? That my father tried to exchange his own life for my birth?"
"All I know is that he made a bargain, and the old magic takes the highest price, not the one that was agreed on." Defending Uther Pendragon was not something Merlin enjoyed doing, but he would do it for Arthur and the peace he needed to reconcile his past with his present. "I think maybe it cheated him when it took your mother, and that's why he hates it."
One by one, Arthur's fingers uncurled, and Merlin pretended not to see the tremor in them. "And I was born of it."
"He loves you more than anything. That I know for certain. He isn't half the man or the king that you'll be--I'm sorry, but it's true." Merlin overran Arthur's frown, pouring his heart into his words. "But he's your father, and he loved your mother, and he loves you."
Arthur shook his head, though in denial of what, Merlin was not sure. "So you defend his crown."
"I defend your crown," Merlin corrected. "And your head until it's time to put the crown on it."
Arthur gave a faint smile. "My guardian. And here I thought you were just a pain in my neck."
Merlin narrowed his eyes at his friend. "You knew there was something more. I know you did. Admit it."
"I knew you were different, but everyone knew that." With the same faint smile, Arthur dropped his head to touch Merlin's. "I understand a lot more now, but I still don't know what to do. I guess I'm not ready to be king after all."
Uncertainty was not what Merlin wanted to hear. Uncertainty made his stomach twist with the revival of fear. At the same time, it made Arthur readier to be king than Uther at any point in his long reign.
He stayed silent as Arthur broke away and flopped onto his back on the bed.
"For example," Arthur went on, staring up at the shadowy ceiling beams. "That was a nice moment we had just now, but I still don't know what to do about Morgause."
"Morgause?" The name burst out of Merlin, and he narrowly avoided the urge to kick Arthur in the side. "Excuse me, but I'm a little more concerned with what you're going to do about me."
"Ah." Arthur's face did not change no matter how hard Merlin stared at it. "Yes, you."
"Arthur, I did what you asked. I told you everything."
"I know, and you told me everything I needed to know about who you are and what you've done." Arthur's voice was gentle, though he still did not look at Merlin. "But as you pointed out, I'm not king yet."
His heart pounded up into his throat. "So what are you going to do?"
"As prince of Camelot, I should haul you back to Camelot in chains and see you burned for your treason." Arthur spoke conversationally, as though debating whether the blue tunic or the red would be more appropriate for the banquet. "As your friend, I should leave you here and tell you never to go back to Camelot."
"And as Arthur?" Merlin leaned over him, trying to make Arthur look at him. "What does Arthur want to do?"
Arthur finally turned his head to meet Merlin's eyes. There was a tenderness there Merlin would have given much to see when his life was not on the precipice of ruin.
"Arthur wants Merlin to shut up so he can get some sleep," he said and gave Merlin's arm a rough tug.
Merlin tumbled down next to him, giving Arthur's shoulder a frustrated thump. Arthur laughed once, and then settled into silence. He was done talking, but at least he had listened. The rest could wait until morning.
***
"Wake up, Merlin." The words sounded muffled, half by sleep and half by the pillow that had just hit him in the head.
Merlin groaned and tried to burrow down and away from the incredible annoyance that was Arthur and his loud voice. "Too early."
"Not even by your slothful standards is it early," came the reply, too loud and distinctly unfair. Merlin liked to sleep, like normal people, which did not make him--
"Late!" He jumped out of bed, stumbled over his discarded boots, and crashed into the night table.
Arthur gave him a wry look. "Relax, you have the day off. Apparently they're still trying to get that Mercian out of the boulder."
"Oh," Merlin replied and knocked the water pitcher off the night table as he pushed himself upright to stare at Arthur. He remembered what else was significant about this morning.
"In the cold light of day, it turns out you're just as clumsy, incompetent, and lazy as ever," Arthur drawled, sounding overly satisfied with that fact. "It's quite reassuring."
"I'm sure it is, sire," Merlin grumped, but he was already starting to grin.
Arthur knew. He knew, and while they had not resolved everything, Arthur was still there. He was still there, looking at Merlin with the same old bemused affection, and he had even--
Merlin squinted at the tray in Arthur's hands. "You brought me breakfast?"
"I brought food, which we will both need to shore us up for the long day we have ahead of us," Arthur corrected.
Merlin grinned and snagged a sausage before Arthur's words fully registered. "Wait, what long day? I thought you said it was a day off?" he accused around a mouthful.
Arthur was already chewing on his own share as they sat down at the small dining table. "I can't believe you wandered into a tournament without any training." He stuffed another sausage in his mouth. The last two he pushed toward Merlin. "Go on, you'll need your energy. I'm sure you didn't eat a thing last night, pining for me."
Actually, Merlin had eaten quite well, but this meal tasted much better. He took one of the sausages and used the cheese knife to split the last one between them. "Where was I supposed to train for a magic tournament in Camelot?"
Arthur shrugged, more interested in the hunk of cheese on the tray. "Wherever you perform the rest of your sneaky sorcery, I would think. But it's no matter. I'll take care of it now."
"You? You're going to train me?" He felt his skepticism was more than justified, given Arthur's previous attempts in training him for combat, not to mention that Arthur's only experience with magical combat was as victim or unconscious bystander.
"I admit, there may be one or two things I still need to learn." Arthur seemed unfazed as he dug into his share of the bread with breezy confidence. "But nobody knows combat strategy better than I do. I've seen enough to know that it applies here the same as any other tournament."
Merlin nodded slowly. "I think my strategy's been pretty good so far, don't you?"
Arthur shot him a pitying look, which would have been more condescending without the breadcrumbs on his chin. "I asked around yesterday. Emrys is supposed to be the most powerful sorcerer in Albion. Is that really you?"
The breadcrumbs on the plate suddenly became much more interesting. "I don't really know where all that comes from," he said, torn between pride and embarrassment. "But yeah, it seems to be me."
To his relief and curiosity, Arthur only looked thoughtful at the admission. "Yes, I saw most of your fight yesterday. This morning I got that drayman to give me the blow by blow of your first match. You're muscling your way through."
"Muscling?" Merlin cast a furtive look at his arms in their loose sleeves. No one had ever called him muscular before, but he rather liked the idea.
"You wait for them to attack, and then turn their attacks against them because you're counting on being more powerful than they are."
"It's worked so far," Merlin protested.
"It's a good strategy to start off a fight," Arthur agreed. "Always let them come to you, take their measure, and then use their strength against them."
"That's exactly what I did," Merlin insisted, not knowing whether to feel offended or vindicated.
"And you were lucky that they didn't have any other tricks up their sleeves that you couldn't counter." Arthur leaned forward over the table in full training lecture mode. "But in the later rounds, they'll be ready for you. You'll have to learn how to strike."
"Strike?" He had thought the dragon did some pretty impressive striking.
"Yes, go on the offense immediately after you defend. Go at them with something they won't be expecting." Arthur put all his fingers and thumb together and made a darting motion with his hand. "Like a viper."
"Like a viper," Merlin repeated, straight-faced only by the grace of a previously undiscovered magical power.
Arthur nodded and made the imaginary viper strike the air again, and then again, looking earnestly at Merlin to see if he understood. The viper slowed as Merlin's magical straight face began to fail him.
Merlin was up and out of the chair before Arthur lunged after him. The laughter bubbled out of him as Arthur growled and tackled him.
The clumsy scuffle would not have impressed the royal dog pack, let alone a tournament crowd. Merlin grappled with Arthur, but was laughing too hard to make much of a go at it. Arthur threw them both off balance so they fell onto the bed.
They rolled over and over across the mattress, and then tumbled straight off the other side. Arthur let out a wheezy "oof" as his back hit the ground, then another as Merlin fell on top of him.
Before Merlin could get his own breath back into his lungs, Arthur had him flipped onto his back and pinned down by his shoulders. He straddled Merlin's thighs and looked down at him, tensed as though waiting to see what Merlin would try next.
Merlin just grinned up at him, relaxed and happy. He knew he could have sent Arthur flying into the ceiling, and Arthur knew it, too. Once he would have done it just to prove he could.
Arthur pressed down on his shoulders, an almost curious push. Merlin stayed in his loose-limbed sprawl, enjoying the heat and weight of Arthur above him, though the best of this intimacy was not the physical. Finally, he could share everything with Arthur--except for that one last secret. Arthur could read it in his eyes right now if he chose.
For a moment, Merlin thought he might. Then Arthur gave one last gentle push to Merlin's shoulders and climbed off him. He held his hand out to help Merlin up.
"Come on. We obviously have a lot of work to do," he said as he pulled Merlin to his feet. "If I'm even going to consider harboring a sorcerer in my household, then he is damn well going to be the champion sorcerer of all Albion. Oh, stop grinning at me, you loon."
Merlin could not help it, though he also felt the pressure of Arthur's words. He supposed it was no more than Arthur felt every time he stepped into the lists. "I'll make you proud," he promised.
Arthur cleared his throat and turned away. "Right. Okay. Let's see what we have to work with. What kind of spells do you know?"
Merlin grinned again and went to fetch his book and the things Gaius had given him from the hiding place he no longer needed.
They spent the rest of the day poring over the spell book to see what could be adapted to a combat situation. Merlin had already made extensive notes on the topic, but Arthur had an eye for how to adapt them into a full-fledged strategy based on the strengths and weaknesses he had observed in each of Merlin's potential opponents.
Merlin had listened to Arthur work out strategy before, and even participated himself, but this was the first time Arthur had been focused on Merlin and his capabilities. The intoxication of equality, of respect from the man he respected more than any other, made all the other challenges seem distant and easily surmountable.
At dusk, the innkeeper brought supper and fresh candles. She did not seem surprised to find them huddled around a spell book. Arthur had stepped fully into Merlin's world at last.
Dinner and good ale broke Arthur's professional focus. Merlin was happy to close the book, shove aside their notes, and spend the rest of the evening laughing together until they cried.
"And then I got Gaius right side up again, and his robe went flap! flap! flap! all the way back down."
Arthur choked on his own laughter. "Did he give you the eyebrow again? You must be immune to it by now."
"Never," Merlin replied, mournful through his stifled giggles. "There's no magic power that can overcome the disapproval."
The laughter faded, and Arthur stared down into his empty tankard. "No," he said. "I suppose there wouldn't be."
Merlin sobered as well, in mood if not in coordination. He stood when Arthur did and started getting ready for bed.
As he pulled off his tunic, his arms got stuck in his sleeves halfway over his head. "Oh, fuck it," he muttered from inside the erstwhile tent of his shirt.
Firm hands stilled his half-hearted struggles. "Let me. Always hopeless, aren't you?"
"Just an act to entertain you, sire," Merlin mumbled into the bunching fabric as Arthur worked it over his head.
Bright eyes watched him with amusement as the tunic cleared his face. He blinked at Arthur, who smiled and pulled the shirt free from his head.
He tossed it aside and ran his fingers slowly over Merlin's head, rubbing through his hair. "There, no harm done," he said.
"Thanks." Merlin rubbed his bare arms, aware that he was rumpled and naked from the waist up, and so was Arthur.
"Let's go to bed." Arthur padded barefoot around the bed to his side. His breeches hung low on his hips to display the dip at the base of his spine.
Merlin sighed at his own inability to look away until Arthur climbed into the bed. Then it was Arthur's turn to watch him. He felt awkward under the weight of his gaze until he slid under the covers and had to sigh again at how good it felt to be cocooned in the warmth with Arthur.
The candles guttered out as one around the room, but Arthur still turned onto his side to look at Merlin. His face looked strange in the shadows.
It ought to have felt strange, too, this watching each other in the warm intimacy of the bed. Merlin did have a peculiar feeling in his stomach, and lower even than that. Within the veil of darkness, he could imagine that same queer feeling lurked in the dim lines of Arthur's face and the muted glitter of his eyes.
"Good night, Merlin," Arthur said at last and turned over.
Merlin watched the broad plane of his back for a while longer. He would have liked to lay himself along the breadth of that back and have Arthur take his arm to pull around his middle. It did not seem like such a great step after what they had shared today.
But it was still too much to ask, and he would not risk greed after gaining so much. He turned his back to Arthur's and shut his eyes.
He had barely set foot outside their little room, but it had been the best day of his life.
***
The next morning, Arthur was in a mood. "This water must have been heated last night," he griped as he lowered himself into one of the inn's two full-sized bathtubs.
Over in the other tub, Merlin splashed in the water as it grew warmer around him. Even tepid, it was nicer than the cramped washtub in Gaius's quarters. "I could--" he began and finished by waggling his fingers towards Arthur's tub.
To his surprise, Arthur turned as red as if his bathwater had been steaming hot for some time. "No," he said and grabbed a cloth to begin washing.
Merlin tamped down his instinctive annoyance. He had only boiled Arthur's bathwater that one time. Unless Arthur was not as comfortable with the idea of Merlin using magic on him as he was on other people.
That thought make him slouch down in silence, swishing the water around and now feeling disgruntled at its warmth. Across the room, Arthur was scrubbing himself with undue haste, as though the water might disappear.
The water did disappear over the sides of the tub when Arthur surged up out of it. Before Merlin had time to look up, Arthur was wrapped in a sheet and wrenching his clothes over his wet limbs.
"I'm going to go check something out," he said without looking at Merlin. "I'll meet you at the field."
Merlin sat up abruptly enough to send his own bathwater splashing out over whatever floor Arthur had not already flooded. "Hold up, I'll come with you."
"No." The single word held no room for argument. "Stay here."
"You shouldn't be running around here on your own," Merlin argued anyway. "If anyone recognizes you, or if Morgause comes by for another go, you'll need me."
"I kept myself alive for twenty years before you came along, Merlin," Arthur shot back. "I think I can manage another ten minutes. Wash behind your ears--God knows what's growing back there."
Merlin cupped his hands over his ears as Arthur strode out the door. "I thought you liked my ears," he said to the empty bathing room.
Then he scrambled out of the tub and dried himself with a quick blast of hot air. Arthur's behavior was stranger than usual. That was never a sign of anything good.
He got into his clothes and out the door in under a minute. If someone had managed to cast some kind of enchantment on Arthur inside the inn, he sure as hell was not letting Arthur wander out into their clutches.
And if it was just Arthur being crabby, or having second thoughts about Merlin...well, he still had to keep an eye on him.
Arthur was out of sight by the time Merlin burst out the front door of the inn. He whispered a locator spell that had always been handy when he needed to find Arthur in a hurry.
A tug under his sternum drew him down the street and only stopped when Merlin entered the market square. He craned his neck for a glimpse of bright hair and spotted Arthur next to a familiar cart, talking to Lady Elaine, the seller of love magic.
Talking might have been an inadequate word: Arthur was looming over the woman with the same menace he exuded while hunting criminals through the lower town of Camelot. Merlin hung back to watch as Arthur began to shout. He could not make out the words, but he recognized an interrogation when he saw one.
Unlike Arthur's usual targets, Elaine shouted back. They gestured at each other for a few exchanges before the woman grabbed Arthur by the front of his shirt. She spoke with rapid intensity. With her free hand, she thumped him repeatedly on the chest over his heart.
When she was done, he bowed his head. If Arthur had been anyone other than who he was, Merlin might have thought he looked humbled. The rigid set of his shoulders slumped in defeat as he walked away.
Merlin ducked behind a slow-moving ox cart as Arthur returned the way he had come. He felt a shiver run through him as Arthur passed, as though some strange energy was arcing between them.
As soon as Arthur moved out of sight, Merlin made a dash for Elaine. "Hello," he said as he skidded up to the cart.
She looked up at him and rolled her eyes, jostling her cart into motion. "Lovely, I get the full double act of the idiot twins. I knew I shouldn't have had that extra tankard last night."
"Yes, um, I was just looking for my friend." Merlin offered her the least idiotic smile he could muster. "He said he wanted to ask you something?"
She stopped the cart, almost on his foot. "I don't give children's lessons in the principles of magic, boy. Not unless you're buying something."
"Still don't need anything," Merlin said hastily. Neither should Arthur; anything he needed to know about magic, he ought to have asked Merlin first. "Sorry if he bothered you. He's a bit daft about magic, among other things."
"You don't have to tell me that. Coming to me ranting about love spells, of all things!"
"Wait, love spells?" An uncomfortable knot jammed halfway up his throat.
"Oh, I know. I can hardly believe the lack of education these days. When I was a girl, the first thing we learned what was magic can't do. It can't produce gold, it can't raise the dead, and it can't make anyone fall in love with you."
The gold thing was true--Merlin had tried it, more than once--and the death thing had certain technical loopholes, but-- "He wanted a spell to make someone fall in love with him?" he asked, befuddled because he could not conceive of Arthur doing that, no matter how much he wanted to win Gwen's affections.
"That I could work with. I could make you desperate for me right now before you could think twice about it." Elaine made a derisive sound in her throat. "But he obviously thinks better of himself than that. He wanted to know if a very powerful sorcerer could have made him fall truly in love with someone."
The knot in his throat solidified and froze. "What?"
"Someone inappropriate, says he." Elaine made that derisive sound again, trailing off into a scornful laugh. "Infatuation, attraction, lust, that any hedgewitch can handle, though mind you, not at my quality or my reasonable rates."
"But not love." No spell existed that could change the human heart. Magic could control the mind, fool the senses, make men do ridiculous things, as Merlin could attest through extensive observation, but no more. If it could touch the heart, someone might have healed Uther's long ago and saved them all a great deal of pain.
"Of course not. See, I knew you were the sensible one." She beamed at him, which only made him feel ill. "By comparison, at least."
He gave her a weak smile, but could say nothing else. As he retraced his steps out of the market, anger began overrunning his shock. All the warmth, all the acceptance and trust he had felt from Arthur yesterday was now just a sour taste in his mouth.
How dare he.
A roar of crowd noise swelled up over the town: the tournament was resuming. Merlin hesitated before he turned his steps toward the tourney field. His enthusiasm for all their plans and strategies had deflated in seconds, but he had not gone through all this to quit now.
The first bout had already begun when Merlin arrived at the field. He looked around for Arthur, expecting him to have secured a prime spot in the stands. Instead, he found him after several minutes off to the side, leaning against a wall with his head tipped back and his eyes closed.
Half an hour ago, Merlin would have let his eyes trace the line of Arthur's long throat. Now he only wanted to punch Arthur in the same spot.
Arthur opened his eyes and gave Merlin a tired smile. The curve of his lips was sweet, as though he had not just been looking for evidence that Merlin had forced him to fall in love with...someone inappropriate. As though the high and mighty Prince Arthur could ever have looked at a servant girl and found her worthy of love without some kind of magical intervention.
"There you are," he said. "Good thing you're not going first today. Did your ears really take that long to clean?"
He looked at Arthur with no idea what to say that would not take more time than he had. "Stay where I can see you," he finally said and moved toward the waiting tents. He still did not have one of his own, but lurking there would be better than staying with Arthur.
Arthur caught up with him in a few strides. "Merlin, it was a joke. I didn't mean anything about your ears."
"I don't really care what you think about my ears, sire," Merlin answered, even if some part of him did still care. That was the part of him that hurt the most.
When he stopped near the entrance to the lists, Arthur stopped with him and gave an affectionate tweak to his earlobe. "It's all right to be nervous. I know you're not used to this kind of thing. But you're not going to have any trouble with this guy. He got lucky in the last two rounds."
Of all the things Merlin needed right now, Arthur being sweet was not one of them. "Would you just go watch from the stands like everyone else?" he said through gritted teeth.
Arthur continued to miss the hint. "But I'm not like everyone else," he said. "I'm your support team."
Despite his anger, his mouth twitched. "You mean you're my servant?"
"No, certainly not." Arthur's answer was firm, immediate, and predictable; then his voice took a contemplative turn. "I suppose I wouldn't mind being a magical squire."
Merlin choked on the laugh that tried to escape him. "Seriously, go away. This isn't the safest place for you."
Arthur shrugged. "Your friend Niniane isn't competing for a while yet. If Morgause shows up early, I'd be more than happy to see her."
"That's what I'm afraid of," Merlin muttered as the crowd roared again for the victor of the previous match.
Then it was his turn to step onto the field with his next opponent. The warlock was a slight man with a distinct look of weasel in his face. He reminded Merlin of Cedric. As they took their places and waited for Nennius to signal the start of the match, Merlin thought that if Cedric did reappear, he could have Arthur with Merlin's blessing.
When the match began, the weasel man began shouting a spell before Nennius's hand had finished dropping. Merlin heard the words: a rather boring binding spell. A length of rope appeared at Merlin's feet and began slithering around his ankles.
He was not in the mood to be there, and he was not in the mood for the weasel man. Merlin did not bother with a spell. He lifted his hand and flicked his fingers toward his opponent, sending the rope whipping across the field.
With a frantic look, the man chanted a repulsion spell, but the rope ignored him. It lashed around his legs, then his arms, then finally gagged his mouth to render him helpless. Merlin doubted he could do anything without a spoken spell.
As he expected, the weasel man wobbled until he tipped over. He lay writhing on the ground, trying to free himself even as the crowd cheered his defeat. Merlin was heading off the field before Nennius could finish declaring him the winner.
He made the mistake of looking up as he walked back toward the tents. Arthur was standing where Merlin had left him, grinning like a madman. It was pride and joy and everything Merlin had ever wanted to see in Arthur's face--and it was worse than nothing.
"Right, that's taken care of," he said as soon as he was within earshot of Arthur, not slowing down. "We'd better get seats if we want to see the rest of it."
"Merlin, that was fantastic," Arthur exclaimed as Merlin moved past him. "Merlin?"
"Yeah, it was fine," Merlin muttered as he climbed up into the stands and jostled for space at the end of a bench.
"All right, so it wasn't much of a chance to practice your offensive strategy." Arthur crowded in next to him, still grinning and pressing close against Merlin's side. "But that was brilliant the way you just flicked your fingers, cool as you please, and took him right down."
"Not like Edvard was much of a challenge," the woman behind them scoffed. "We'll see what Emrys can do when he faces a real wizard."
Arthur twisted around with a thunderous expression. As he laid into the woman, and then the man next to her, and eventually the entire row behind them, Merlin stared stony faced out at the field. He concentrated so hard on ignoring Arthur's defense of his abilities that he missed most of the action in the lists. He would never understand Arthur, never.
"What's gotten into you?" Arthur said as they shuffled from the arena at the end of the day's events. "Look, I'm sorry if I was a little short this morning. I had some things on my mind."
"Sure you did." They broke free from the crowd, and Merlin faced Arthur head on for the first time in hours. "I heard all about it from Elaine."
Arthur stopped and his face went blank and still. His throat worked and his eyes stared past Merlin's face. "I see. I won't talk about this here."
"Yeah, wouldn't want anybody to know how you feel." His anger and hurt had dulled over the course of long afternoon; they swept back over him now in a fresh wave of unhappiness.
"Not everyone needs to bleed their feelings into the street." Arthur started walking again. "If you want to scorn me, you can give me the dignity of privacy."
He had a great deal of scorn to heap upon Arthur, so Merlin followed him back to the inn. As the door closed behind them, Arthur turned and leveled an icy look on Merlin.
Merlin shot it right back. "Was there something you wanted to say to me?"
Arthur looked nauseated, which Merlin hoped was guilt eating away at him. "I never really thought you would do that. I didn't want to think it."
"But it was easier to blame the evil sorcerer than have the courage to admit you have feelings for a mere servant." Even as he spoke, Merlin felt the unwelcome sting of hypocrisy. He had taken the easy road himself, more than once, to avoid showing Arthur his true heart.
"It's not my pride that matters, hard as that may be for you to believe." Arthur was still looking past Merlin to the door behind him, face and voice tight. "If I give my heart badly, Camelot will pay the price. I'm not afraid, but I have to be sure my heart is my own before I take that risk. You saw what happened to my father."
"And to you," Merlin retorted, but Arthur's wince was not as satisfying as Merlin had hoped. "I would never do that to you, Arthur, not even if I could."
"I know that. I’m sorry." Arthur's gaze finally settled on Merlin's face. The quiet resolve there deflated the last of Merlin's indignation. "But you know this isn't easy. I won't fight it now. I can't anymore."
He should feel happy for his friends. He should not want to run and get that love charm back from Lady Elaine. "So you're going to propose to Gwen?"
Arthur's mouth dropped open and his eyes widened in exasperation. "I don't--Merlin, have you been listening to a single thing I've said to you?"
"Yeah, I think I got the gist of it." Merlin clenched his jaw to keep his emotions from spilling over. "You're in love with Gwen, you want to marry her, but you wanted to be sure I wasn't trying to influence you. Fair enough. I understand. Can we please stop talking about it now?"
Arthur just looked at him. He knew his misery showed clear in his face, but there was not a damned thing he could do about it.
"The fact that anyone as dim as you is allowed to possess magical powers frightens the hell out of me." His voice held the same thick fondness Merlin had reveled in yesterday. Maybe they could finally get back to normal now.
Then Arthur crossed the space between them, took Merlin's face between his hands, and kissed him. A shock of pleasure flooded him down to his toes. It was less arousal than a shout of pure joy from every inch of his body.
He broke away from Arthur to glare at him with what he hoped was terrifying sorcerous intimidation. "You have to be kidding," he said before pressing back into Arthur's mouth for another kiss, then another. "You better not be kidding."
"Nothing funny about this," Arthur said, though he laughed into Merlin's mouth before their tongues slid together again.
His hands slipped down Merlin's back to pull him closer. Merlin's brain sputtered a protest but had to give into the utter joy of kissing Arthur.
They were twined together on the bed, clothes loosened and skewed, by the time any thought returned to Merlin's head. "What about Gwen?" he asked against the damp of Arthur's throat. He pushed his hands further up under Arthur's shirt, gripping his back as if bracing against the answer.
Arthur pushed him over onto his back and stretched him out over the bed. He pressed a new kiss to the hollow of Merlin's throat. "Don't, Merlin. Not now."
"I know you care for her," Merlin persisted even as he arched up to feel the pressure of Arthur on the growing bulge in his trousers.
"As much as she cares for me," Arthur replied, which dampened the ardor shivering its way through Merlin's limbs.
He started to push himself up on his elbows. "I know how much she cares."
"No, I don't think you do." Arthur took advantage of his position to slide his arms under Merlin's back, cradling him and pinning him at once. "Everything is a grand drama to you, isn't it?"
Merlin stopped talking for the time it took to kiss Arthur again, unable to stop himself. This was grand to him: the press of their tongues, the way Arthur's lips moved against his. He dug one hand into Arthur's hair while the other pulled Arthur's tunic up enough that he could feel the bare skin of their bellies touching.
Arthur kissed his way to Merlin's ear and tugged on the lobe with his teeth. "Are you going to make me talk about this now?"
"No," Merlin answered, because when Arthur had moved, his loosened tunic had also moved. The thick muscle of his upper shoulder lay exposed, and Merlin could not miss the chance to get his mouth on it.
The pressure of the muscle against his teeth made him shiver. The heat of Arthur's breath in his ear deepened it into a shudder.
Then Arthur gave an unhappy groan and rolled away from Merlin. The cool air shocked Merlin's skin; he had already gotten so used to Arthur's heavy warmth in his arms.
Arthur lay on his back and rubbed his hands over his flushed face. "Dammit, Merlin. Why do you always have to make me think? I was a much less complicated person before I met you."
"You have never in your life been uncomplicated," Merlin said and tried not to think about how simple Arthur's honor could make this, how fast he could lose what he barely had.
Arthur cast him a wry look. "Do you know why I first noticed Gwen?"
"She's pretty?" Merlin had tried often to convince himself of all the reasons his friends were right for each other, but it hurt more to think about it with the taste of Arthur still in his mouth.
"Pretty enough, I suppose." Arthur, whose head had been turned by many a pretty face, gave a dismissive shrug. "But mostly, it's that she started to remind me of you."
"Me?" Other than the fact that they were both servants with an inconvenient devotion to their future sovereign, he did not see much resemblance.
"You both talk to me like I'm a person," Arthur said. "You both make me feel comfortable in my own skin--and uncomfortable, like I'm outgrowing myself all the time."
Merlin sat back on his hands, needing more distance from Arthur and the intimacy they had been creating. "She's good for you," he forced himself to say.
"Yes. I'm probably going to marry her." Arthur frowned up at the ceiling as though it were a battle map. "You think she would be a good queen, don't you?"
"Yes," he had to answer, though it seemed unfair to make him say it now. "She's kind and strong, and the people will love her because she's one of them. And they'll love you for marrying her."
"Yes. I always thought I would marry a noble lady," Arthur said. "But honestly, you've met most of them now. Can you see Lady Vivian as queen of Camelot?"
Merlin had seen more than enough of the spoilt Lady Vivian in any capacity.
"I thought I could always marry Morgana, if it came to that," Arthur went on. "But that's not likely now."
"No. And you have to have a wife." Merlin closed his eyes. "So what is this? Something to pass the time until the wedding?"
"I don't love her, Merlin." Arthur still did not look at him, still frozen in that frown. "She doesn't love me, either. Not as a woman loves a man."
"No, she loves--"
"She loves the king she sees in me, and I love the queen I see in her. Yes, she'll marry me, with understandings, but I'm not the man who won her heart. I think we both know who did."
"And what about your heart?" Merlin asked around the tight clench of his chest and throat.
Arthur finally turned his head to look at him with warm resignation. "I also think we all know who won that, don't we?"
Finally, he did. The relief melted the tension holding him upright. He smiled at Arthur with giddy happiness. Slowly, Arthur's smile widened with the same shared joy in their new understanding.
His body had calmed since Arthur broke away. On the heels of the calm came the weariness Merlin could no longer stave off. He stretched himself out next to Arthur. After spending the day tense with anger and fear, he was left rubbery with a pleasant ache.
Arthur's fingers made a hesitant brush against his arm. The touch reminded Merlin that he had the right to touch and curl himself around Arthur with abandon now. So he did.
Arthur made a contented noise in his throat and adjusted his position until they had a comfortable entanglement. As Merlin drifted, he felt Arthur's breath in his ear once more.
"That's what the seer was trying to tell me before," Arthur said with a drowsy slur. "We have to accept who we are, or what we build won't last long enough to matter."
"I hope she wins the competition," Merlin mumbled and then fell asleep.
***
He woke the next morning to find Arthur staring at him from a few inches away.
"Good," Arthur said. "I was afraid you'd sleep away all the time we have left."
Without needing to answer, Merlin pressed into Arthur's kiss. Their lips were dry and Arthur's breath was terrible, but passion got them through until the kiss grew slick and wet.
His body came awake inch by inch under Arthur's hands. Merlin ran his own fingers along Arthur's spine, drawing the fabric of his tunic up. Arthur arched and squirmed into his touch.
As they kept touching, Merlin felt a familiar throb renew between his legs. Between Niniane and Arthur, he had been aroused too much without relief in recent days. Even a hasty toss off had been impossible.
Merlin rolled onto his back and pulled Arthur to climb on top of him. He wanted Arthur's weight on him, something to buck and rub against.
Arthur straddled his hips. He slowly pulled off his shirt; then he reached down and tugged until Merlin sat up enough to let Arthur pull the tunic over his head. Arthur tossed it aside.
A sheen of arousal covered his eyes as he held himself over Merlin on his hands and knees. The bulge in his breeches confirmed his state. Arthur grunted and shifted his hips as he stretched himself over the length of Merlin's body, adjusting himself until the thick ridge of his erection curved up to his stomach under the tight fabric.
Merlin had to feel him. He craned up to Arthur's lips and wrapped one hand around the back of Arthur's neck. With the other hand, Merlin gripped Arthur's shoulder to drag him down to Merlin's body.
The prickle and slide of bare skin on skin made him groan into Arthur's mouth. The groan stuttered into a cry when Arthur finally settled fully onto him and the ridge of Arthur's arousal pressed into his groin.
"I really want you." Arthur sounded plaintive, as if he had not noticed Merlin's hardness answering his.
"Okay." Merlin worked his hand down between them to tug at the laces at Arthur's waist. "That's good."
"No, it's not good." Arthur gave a stifled whimper as Merlin plucked at the laces right over his cock.
He grabbed Merlin's fingers and pinned both his hands out to either side of his head. Merlin started to squawk a protest. Then he found his tongue stroking into Arthur's mouth, which seemed a better use for it.
Several kisses later, Merlin managed to free one hand and curl it around Arthur's bare shoulder. His fingertips dug into the muscle to feel it flex under the soft skin. Just a few more minutes, a little longer to enjoy this, and then he would test how the rest of Arthur's body moved.
Outside, the noon bells rung.
"Oh, fuck." Merlin pulled Arthur tighter, freeing his other hand to get a grip on his back. "Come on, we can hurry."
His love-addled brain took several seconds to register that Arthur was pulling out of his arms. "We do have to hurry," Arthur said as he slid off the bed and reached for his tunic. "You're the second one up today."
Merlin stared at him, double checking to make sure the bulge of Arthur's cock was still where he remembered it being. "Um, maybe it slipped your undertaxed royal mind, but we're in the middle of something here?"
Arthur's head popped out from the neck of his shirt, rumpled and wearing a manic grin. "Got the blood pumping, didn't it? No better way to get ready to compete."
In an instant Merlin was off the bed and pinning Arthur to the wall with his body and magic. Arthur made a small sound of yearning as Merlin showed him what he thought of his strategy. When he kissed back, Merlin unpinned his arms to allow him caressing privileges. The rest of Arthur stayed secured and pliant under Merlin's body.
"Don't you want to win this tournament?" Arthur said even as he stroked his hands down over Merlin's arse.
"Don't you want to get off?" Merlin countered before fastening his mouth to Arthur's neck. He was discovering that he had a favorite spot there that felt amazing under his tongue. The way it made Arthur tremble felt amazing as well.
"Probably twice as much as I already did before you pulled this little trick." Arthur ran his hands back up to Merlin's shoulder blades and clung. "But you can win this whole thing. I won't be the reason that you don't."
"I'm pretty sure I can do both." Merlin traced his fingertips over the laces that strained above Arthur's cock.
"Sex depletes the vital energies, which are even more important for you than for a regular knight in tournament."
The way Arthur's lecturing tone hoarsened with arousal was doing fine things for Merlin's vital energies. "Not a problem, got plenty," he mumbled against Arthur's skin.
"I can always tell which knights are going to go out in the second round, no matter how skilled they are in the first. Do you know how I can tell?"
Merlin sighed and gave up his assault on Arthur's neck in favor of slumping against it in defeat. "How can you tell?"
"By which knights brought their lovers with them," Arthur concluded, sounding smug for someone who was talking himself out of getting laid.
Merlin sighed again. He really wanted to have sex. He also really wanted to win this tournament--and if there was one thing Arthur knew how to do, it was win tournaments.
He stepped back out of Arthur's arms and reached for a clean tunic. He was going to need a long one today. Behind him, Arthur stumbled away from the wall as the magic released him.
"Don't worry, Merlin," Arthur said as he changed his own clothes. "Even the most evil sorcerer in the world never killed anyone with blue balls."
Considering the way his balls ached, Merlin was not ruling out sorcerous intervention of some kind. "Please don't talk to me right now," he said as he jammed his boots onto his feet and headed to the door.
Arthur just grinned at him with that manic battle grin, loving the challenge of it more than any mentally healthy person ought. It was no mystery that competition was as good as sex to Arthur. In his view, they were probably having sex right now as they walked together to the tourney field.
But once Merlin stood on the field, alive with the hum of the crowd and his own power, he felt the sexual drive of it. Over by the tents, Arthur stood amidst a throng of sorcerers looking on. When their eyes met, he grinned at Merlin and nodded with eager encouragement.
Merlin grinned back. This was the first time he could revel in Arthur watching him compete. The magic sizzled through him in anticipation.
He turned his grin on his opponent as the man, called Dirk and more than a match for Merlin's size, walked past him to take his position. "This is just fantastic, isn't it?" he said.
Dirk paused to give him an incredulous look. "Are you deranged?"
"You're not the first one to ask," Merlin called after him.
At the officiant's stand, Nennius lifted his hand. Merlin ran through the combat strategy Arthur had drilled into him: wait for the attack, get the measure of it, and then launch his own attack.
Merlin bounced on the balls of his feet. On the other hand, he already had a pretty good measure of Dirk. There did not seem to be much point in wasting time.
Nennius dropped his hand. Merlin raised his.
"Hringe æledfýres," he intoned.
Flames shot up from the ground and circled Dirk until he was surrounded with no way out. Dirk frowned, but did not look alarmed. He raised his hands and chanted a water spell, then a freezing spell, then a smothering spell.
The freezing spell made the flames flicker slightly, but nothing else had even that much effect. When Dirk found that he could not cast anything outside the boundaries of the fire, his frown finally turned to worry.
Merlin grinned at him again when Dirk looked over at him with helpless rage. He could have left it at that and still won the match, but he could feel Arthur watching him.
He did not know a spell for what he felt like doing, but did not think he needed one. All he needed to do was lower his hand, and then lift it in a fist to--
The ground shook under Dirk's feet before shooting up into the air and taking Dirk with it. Sand poured away in a circular cascade as the bedrock pushed up in a narrow, thrusting column high above the field. Dirk stumbled and started to fall. He wound up clinging to the top of the column, screaming.
"And the winner of this match, once again, is Emrys," Nennius announced to the crowd that was screaming even louder than Dirk. "The next match will be postponed until the field can be stabilized--and extinguished."
Merlin gave a hasty wave at the fire circle to put it out. He considered bringing Dirk down from his perch, but he supposed he should conserve his vital energies. Plus, the man had called him deranged and could probably use a few more minutes to think about that as he clung shrieking to the crumbling tower of rock.
Besides, Merlin had somewhere to be. Arthur was waiting for him.
At the tents, other warlocks and witches surrounded him, pounding his back and asking question after question about what he had done and how he had done it. He mumbled some vague answers--he was never entirely sure himself how he did anything--and kept moving until he brushed past the last person and stumbled into Arthur.
Arthur was frowning. "Merlin, were you showing off?"
"No, I wasn't," he responded and made no attempt to wipe the proud grin off his face.
"Admit it, you were showing off for me." Arthur's frown wavered with the effort of keeping it steady as he stepped close against Merlin. "You weren't thinking about strategy at all, were you?"
"Sure I was." Merlin let his nose brush Arthur's. "I was thinking a lot about the best strategy for getting your trousers off."
"Oh, well done, then," Arthur murmured, and it was as good as coming when Arthur kissed him there in front of everyone in the flush of his victory.
They tried to watch the rest of the day's competition, but people kept approaching, wanting to congratulate the mysterious Emrys and question him. Merlin enjoyed the attention, especially with Arthur hearing every word and looking at him with a fierce pride.
Arthur grunted and looked away when he noticed Merlin watching him. "We're not getting any useful information with all the interruptions from your fans," he groused.
"Yes, you're right," Merlin agreed.
He grabbed Arthur's arm and pulled him up. Arthur looked surprised, but followed him from the tourney grounds without protest.
They wandered to the edge of the town until they found a tree with soft ground and hospitable roots. Merlin pulled Arthur down beneath it and made the most he could of his newfound celebrity.
That night, Arthur crawled into bed, a drowsy smile on his kiss-stained lips. He flopped into Merlin's arms, planted his face against Merlin's chest, and fell asleep within seconds.
He could live like this forever, Merlin thought, here in this perfect life where magic was accepted, even celebrated--where Merlin himself was accepted, and even celebrated. And here he could walk with Arthur as his brother in arms, a knight instead of a servant.
Arthur was brighter and sweeter here in Merlin's world without the onus of his princehood. Here Merlin had him close by his side and close in his arms where he could keep him safe.
They could stay here forever, except that the lack of orgasms was going to become a problem. Merlin stroked his fingers through Arthur's hair to settle his head on Merlin's shoulder. But for now, the warmth of Arthur's body and his regard were enough to sate him.
***
Continued in Chapter 4
The misery had overcome all but the most stubborn core of the trust by the time Merlin lay alone in bed that night.
After Arthur left, Merlin had wandered without aim. He found himself back at the tournament field and climbed into the stands. It was somewhere to sit, and somewhere Arthur would think to check if he came looking for Merlin.
Arthur did not come. Merlin sat and stared at the field while the rest of the crowd rose up and down around him in surging excitement. He had missed Niniane's match, which was just as well. By the end of the day, the rest of the competition was a blur around an endless reanalysis of every word he and Arthur had exchanged.
On the way back to the inn, he stopped and stared at the seers. As one, they lifted their heads and stared back at him. He wanted badly to know what they had said to Arthur before Morgause had lured him away, but he knew better than to ask.
At the inn, he sat down in the tavern. "Your friend joining you, dearie?" the barmaid asked as she set a tankard of mead down in front of him.
"I don't know," he said. She patted him on the shoulder and brought him his dinner for one.
He shoveled the food into his mouth without tasting it. The magic had left him famished; Arthur had left him with no appetite.
While he ate, other patrons stared at him and whispered. "Emrys," he heard one of them exclaim before being shushed by her neighbor. His anonymity had taken a serious blow on all fronts today. Glory, it turned out, was nothing like he had imagined. He went upstairs as soon as he finished.
His stomach churned as he opened the door to their dark room, but Arthur was not there. A wave of relief nearly dizzied him when he saw Arthur's pack still lying by the bed. Part of him had been certain that Arthur would be halfway back to Camelot by now, already writing Merlin's banishment decree in his head.
He sat on the bed, drew his knees up under his chin, and watched the candles flicker. When he felt too pathetic to be allowed to breathe, let alone call himself a fabled warlock, he extinguished the candles with a thought and stretched out on top of the quilt.
Exhaustion drew him into a fitful doze, slipping in and out of fretful dreams. At one point he thought he was talking to Arthur, but woke to the unbroken silence of the empty room.
When the door finally opened, Merlin thought it was still a dream. His muzzy thoughts sharpened slowly with Arthur's footsteps as he crossed the room. One boot hit the floor with a thud as Arthur pulled it off, then the other. He was making no effort to be quiet.
Merlin was fully awake by the time Arthur climbed up onto the bed, though he kept his eyes closed, body stiff. Arthur did not lie down beside him, but shifted around before settling into stillness.
After a long moment, a finger poked Merlin in the hip. He cracked open one eye to see Arthur sitting facing him, watching Merlin with an expression of deathly calm.
"This is your chance to tell me everything," he said when Merlin's eyes opened fully. "Everything you've ever lied about or withheld from me, this is your one chance for honesty."
Slowly, Merlin pulled himself upright and mimicked Arthur's cross-legged pose. He rested his hands in his lap and let his knees press against Arthur's. Merlin wanted Arthur to feel the solid reality of him, Arthur's friend.
"All right," he agreed, matching Arthur's solemnity, and lifted his hand to light the candles around the room.
Arthur did not flinch. "Everything," he reminded Merlin. "If you lie again, I won't forgive it."
Merlin nodded his understanding. Then he took a deep breath and started talking.
He left nothing out--or almost nothing. His eyes stayed trained on Arthur's face, cataloging every reaction. He barely paused for breath.
Arthur listened, mostly in silence. Emotions flashed across his face from time to time. He looked startled when Merlin mentioned the lights in the cave and impressed when Merlin described his defeat of Nimueh, though Merlin carefully edited his explanation of what his bargain with her had entailed. He was not sure he was ready for Arthur to know the full extent of the magic's betrayal or his own devotion.
Sometimes, Arthur interjected. "I said not to lie," he put in sharply, bright red even in the candlelight as Merlin took care to share every detail of Arthur's behavior under the influence of Sophia.
"I am not lying," Merlin promised with relish. He had waited a long time to rub this in. "And I'm not done. We haven't even discussed Vivian yet."
Other times, Arthur's face grew grim. "What kind of potion was Gaius giving Morgana?" he asked as Merlin picked his way painfully through the truth of what had happened to her. "Who was she talking to? Did you actually see where she went?"
Merlin's voice was almost gone by the time he finished with the story of his encounters with Morgause there in Banncroft. Arthur had leaned his elbows onto his thighs, putting his head where Merlin could rest his own head on Arthur's hair if he bent just a little.
He was exhausted and empty and had nothing left to lose--so he did just that. Arthur's hair was soft under his cheek. When Arthur's fingers brushed his, he had to scrunch his eyes shut to hold back the sudden burn. He knew he was forgiven.
Arthur straightened up after a few minutes and swiped the moisture from Merlin's eyes with his fingers. "You may be some kind of powerful sorcerer, Merlin, but you're still a girl."
"And you're still a plonker," Merlin shot back, though he knew he was smiling stupidly.
Arthur smiled stupidly back, but abruptly stopped and made a gruff noise. "So what are we going to do about Morgause? What's her real game?"
"I'm not sure," Merlin admitted. "She wants to bring down your father more than anything, but I don't know why she hates him so much. Well, any more than any other sorcerer, I suppose."
Arthur raised his eyebrows.
"Just for the obvious reasons," Merlin finished. "Er."
"Do you hate him?" Arthur asked, blunt and offering no quarter. "You must, surely."
Merlin hesitated, wondering if the compunction to honesty applied to this. "I try not to think about that too much. He's the king and your father."
"And he took yours from you." Arthur looked down again. "And my mother from me. I noticed how carefully you avoided mentioning either of them just now, but you must feel something about that."
"Of course I do, but it doesn't change my duty or yours," Merlin said. "It doesn't change the fact that he's your father and he loves you."
"It changes a lot of things."
He resigned himself to giving up the last of his secrets. Arthur had the right to know and make his own judgments. Merlin had to trust him. "Nimueh, the sorceress. I didn't quite tell you the whole story about how she died."
"Merlin." Arthur groaned and tipped his head back. "Why is it so hard for you to be honest with me?"
"We're still in the amnesty period," Merlin reminded him. "And I didn't really want to talk about you dying."
Arthur shifted impatiently. "At the risk of pointing out the fucking obvious--"
"The Questing Beast killed you, Arthur. You just hadn't stopped breathing yet." Merlin dropped his head so Arthur would not see the memory in his face. "I tried every spell and potion anyone's ever invented, but you just kept slipping away."
Arthur's fingers curled around his bare ankle like a shackle. "So you went to Nimueh and got the water of life to save me. She tried to double cross you, so you killed her. You told me this already."
"I didn't tell you how she double crossed me."
"She tried to kill you."
"No, she was supposed to kill me. That was our deal."
Arthur's arm went stiff, his fingers tightening on Merlin's ankle. "What deal?" he said. "What deal, Merlin?"
"The Old Religion has the power over life and death, but there's always a price." Merlin watched the tendons flex in Arthur's hand. "If you ask for a life, you have to give a life back to restore the balance."
"Merlin," Arthur ground out, sounding like his throat had turned to stone. "You idiot. You bloody fucking idiot."
"Don't you dare." Merlin looked up sharply, eyes burning into Arthur's. "It was my right to give my life for yours. I'd do it again. Someday, I probably will."
Arthur looked back, breathing ragged, but saying nothing.
Merlin looked away again. "But the Old Religion doesn't honor its bargains. I offered my life, and she tried to take my mother. When I fought her, she tried to take Gaius. So I paid the price with her life instead."
He watched Arthur's knuckles turn white. "Your mother?"
"Fine. We're all fine." And because of that, he would never regret what he had done. "Once the balance was restored, it was over."
Arthur leaned closer, until he was almost leaning on Merlin. "What are you saying? That my father tried to exchange his own life for my birth?"
"All I know is that he made a bargain, and the old magic takes the highest price, not the one that was agreed on." Defending Uther Pendragon was not something Merlin enjoyed doing, but he would do it for Arthur and the peace he needed to reconcile his past with his present. "I think maybe it cheated him when it took your mother, and that's why he hates it."
One by one, Arthur's fingers uncurled, and Merlin pretended not to see the tremor in them. "And I was born of it."
"He loves you more than anything. That I know for certain. He isn't half the man or the king that you'll be--I'm sorry, but it's true." Merlin overran Arthur's frown, pouring his heart into his words. "But he's your father, and he loved your mother, and he loves you."
Arthur shook his head, though in denial of what, Merlin was not sure. "So you defend his crown."
"I defend your crown," Merlin corrected. "And your head until it's time to put the crown on it."
Arthur gave a faint smile. "My guardian. And here I thought you were just a pain in my neck."
Merlin narrowed his eyes at his friend. "You knew there was something more. I know you did. Admit it."
"I knew you were different, but everyone knew that." With the same faint smile, Arthur dropped his head to touch Merlin's. "I understand a lot more now, but I still don't know what to do. I guess I'm not ready to be king after all."
Uncertainty was not what Merlin wanted to hear. Uncertainty made his stomach twist with the revival of fear. At the same time, it made Arthur readier to be king than Uther at any point in his long reign.
He stayed silent as Arthur broke away and flopped onto his back on the bed.
"For example," Arthur went on, staring up at the shadowy ceiling beams. "That was a nice moment we had just now, but I still don't know what to do about Morgause."
"Morgause?" The name burst out of Merlin, and he narrowly avoided the urge to kick Arthur in the side. "Excuse me, but I'm a little more concerned with what you're going to do about me."
"Ah." Arthur's face did not change no matter how hard Merlin stared at it. "Yes, you."
"Arthur, I did what you asked. I told you everything."
"I know, and you told me everything I needed to know about who you are and what you've done." Arthur's voice was gentle, though he still did not look at Merlin. "But as you pointed out, I'm not king yet."
His heart pounded up into his throat. "So what are you going to do?"
"As prince of Camelot, I should haul you back to Camelot in chains and see you burned for your treason." Arthur spoke conversationally, as though debating whether the blue tunic or the red would be more appropriate for the banquet. "As your friend, I should leave you here and tell you never to go back to Camelot."
"And as Arthur?" Merlin leaned over him, trying to make Arthur look at him. "What does Arthur want to do?"
Arthur finally turned his head to meet Merlin's eyes. There was a tenderness there Merlin would have given much to see when his life was not on the precipice of ruin.
"Arthur wants Merlin to shut up so he can get some sleep," he said and gave Merlin's arm a rough tug.
Merlin tumbled down next to him, giving Arthur's shoulder a frustrated thump. Arthur laughed once, and then settled into silence. He was done talking, but at least he had listened. The rest could wait until morning.
***
"Wake up, Merlin." The words sounded muffled, half by sleep and half by the pillow that had just hit him in the head.
Merlin groaned and tried to burrow down and away from the incredible annoyance that was Arthur and his loud voice. "Too early."
"Not even by your slothful standards is it early," came the reply, too loud and distinctly unfair. Merlin liked to sleep, like normal people, which did not make him--
"Late!" He jumped out of bed, stumbled over his discarded boots, and crashed into the night table.
Arthur gave him a wry look. "Relax, you have the day off. Apparently they're still trying to get that Mercian out of the boulder."
"Oh," Merlin replied and knocked the water pitcher off the night table as he pushed himself upright to stare at Arthur. He remembered what else was significant about this morning.
"In the cold light of day, it turns out you're just as clumsy, incompetent, and lazy as ever," Arthur drawled, sounding overly satisfied with that fact. "It's quite reassuring."
"I'm sure it is, sire," Merlin grumped, but he was already starting to grin.
Arthur knew. He knew, and while they had not resolved everything, Arthur was still there. He was still there, looking at Merlin with the same old bemused affection, and he had even--
Merlin squinted at the tray in Arthur's hands. "You brought me breakfast?"
"I brought food, which we will both need to shore us up for the long day we have ahead of us," Arthur corrected.
Merlin grinned and snagged a sausage before Arthur's words fully registered. "Wait, what long day? I thought you said it was a day off?" he accused around a mouthful.
Arthur was already chewing on his own share as they sat down at the small dining table. "I can't believe you wandered into a tournament without any training." He stuffed another sausage in his mouth. The last two he pushed toward Merlin. "Go on, you'll need your energy. I'm sure you didn't eat a thing last night, pining for me."
Actually, Merlin had eaten quite well, but this meal tasted much better. He took one of the sausages and used the cheese knife to split the last one between them. "Where was I supposed to train for a magic tournament in Camelot?"
Arthur shrugged, more interested in the hunk of cheese on the tray. "Wherever you perform the rest of your sneaky sorcery, I would think. But it's no matter. I'll take care of it now."
"You? You're going to train me?" He felt his skepticism was more than justified, given Arthur's previous attempts in training him for combat, not to mention that Arthur's only experience with magical combat was as victim or unconscious bystander.
"I admit, there may be one or two things I still need to learn." Arthur seemed unfazed as he dug into his share of the bread with breezy confidence. "But nobody knows combat strategy better than I do. I've seen enough to know that it applies here the same as any other tournament."
Merlin nodded slowly. "I think my strategy's been pretty good so far, don't you?"
Arthur shot him a pitying look, which would have been more condescending without the breadcrumbs on his chin. "I asked around yesterday. Emrys is supposed to be the most powerful sorcerer in Albion. Is that really you?"
The breadcrumbs on the plate suddenly became much more interesting. "I don't really know where all that comes from," he said, torn between pride and embarrassment. "But yeah, it seems to be me."
To his relief and curiosity, Arthur only looked thoughtful at the admission. "Yes, I saw most of your fight yesterday. This morning I got that drayman to give me the blow by blow of your first match. You're muscling your way through."
"Muscling?" Merlin cast a furtive look at his arms in their loose sleeves. No one had ever called him muscular before, but he rather liked the idea.
"You wait for them to attack, and then turn their attacks against them because you're counting on being more powerful than they are."
"It's worked so far," Merlin protested.
"It's a good strategy to start off a fight," Arthur agreed. "Always let them come to you, take their measure, and then use their strength against them."
"That's exactly what I did," Merlin insisted, not knowing whether to feel offended or vindicated.
"And you were lucky that they didn't have any other tricks up their sleeves that you couldn't counter." Arthur leaned forward over the table in full training lecture mode. "But in the later rounds, they'll be ready for you. You'll have to learn how to strike."
"Strike?" He had thought the dragon did some pretty impressive striking.
"Yes, go on the offense immediately after you defend. Go at them with something they won't be expecting." Arthur put all his fingers and thumb together and made a darting motion with his hand. "Like a viper."
"Like a viper," Merlin repeated, straight-faced only by the grace of a previously undiscovered magical power.
Arthur nodded and made the imaginary viper strike the air again, and then again, looking earnestly at Merlin to see if he understood. The viper slowed as Merlin's magical straight face began to fail him.
Merlin was up and out of the chair before Arthur lunged after him. The laughter bubbled out of him as Arthur growled and tackled him.
The clumsy scuffle would not have impressed the royal dog pack, let alone a tournament crowd. Merlin grappled with Arthur, but was laughing too hard to make much of a go at it. Arthur threw them both off balance so they fell onto the bed.
They rolled over and over across the mattress, and then tumbled straight off the other side. Arthur let out a wheezy "oof" as his back hit the ground, then another as Merlin fell on top of him.
Before Merlin could get his own breath back into his lungs, Arthur had him flipped onto his back and pinned down by his shoulders. He straddled Merlin's thighs and looked down at him, tensed as though waiting to see what Merlin would try next.
Merlin just grinned up at him, relaxed and happy. He knew he could have sent Arthur flying into the ceiling, and Arthur knew it, too. Once he would have done it just to prove he could.
Arthur pressed down on his shoulders, an almost curious push. Merlin stayed in his loose-limbed sprawl, enjoying the heat and weight of Arthur above him, though the best of this intimacy was not the physical. Finally, he could share everything with Arthur--except for that one last secret. Arthur could read it in his eyes right now if he chose.
For a moment, Merlin thought he might. Then Arthur gave one last gentle push to Merlin's shoulders and climbed off him. He held his hand out to help Merlin up.
"Come on. We obviously have a lot of work to do," he said as he pulled Merlin to his feet. "If I'm even going to consider harboring a sorcerer in my household, then he is damn well going to be the champion sorcerer of all Albion. Oh, stop grinning at me, you loon."
Merlin could not help it, though he also felt the pressure of Arthur's words. He supposed it was no more than Arthur felt every time he stepped into the lists. "I'll make you proud," he promised.
Arthur cleared his throat and turned away. "Right. Okay. Let's see what we have to work with. What kind of spells do you know?"
Merlin grinned again and went to fetch his book and the things Gaius had given him from the hiding place he no longer needed.
They spent the rest of the day poring over the spell book to see what could be adapted to a combat situation. Merlin had already made extensive notes on the topic, but Arthur had an eye for how to adapt them into a full-fledged strategy based on the strengths and weaknesses he had observed in each of Merlin's potential opponents.
Merlin had listened to Arthur work out strategy before, and even participated himself, but this was the first time Arthur had been focused on Merlin and his capabilities. The intoxication of equality, of respect from the man he respected more than any other, made all the other challenges seem distant and easily surmountable.
At dusk, the innkeeper brought supper and fresh candles. She did not seem surprised to find them huddled around a spell book. Arthur had stepped fully into Merlin's world at last.
Dinner and good ale broke Arthur's professional focus. Merlin was happy to close the book, shove aside their notes, and spend the rest of the evening laughing together until they cried.
"And then I got Gaius right side up again, and his robe went flap! flap! flap! all the way back down."
Arthur choked on his own laughter. "Did he give you the eyebrow again? You must be immune to it by now."
"Never," Merlin replied, mournful through his stifled giggles. "There's no magic power that can overcome the disapproval."
The laughter faded, and Arthur stared down into his empty tankard. "No," he said. "I suppose there wouldn't be."
Merlin sobered as well, in mood if not in coordination. He stood when Arthur did and started getting ready for bed.
As he pulled off his tunic, his arms got stuck in his sleeves halfway over his head. "Oh, fuck it," he muttered from inside the erstwhile tent of his shirt.
Firm hands stilled his half-hearted struggles. "Let me. Always hopeless, aren't you?"
"Just an act to entertain you, sire," Merlin mumbled into the bunching fabric as Arthur worked it over his head.
Bright eyes watched him with amusement as the tunic cleared his face. He blinked at Arthur, who smiled and pulled the shirt free from his head.
He tossed it aside and ran his fingers slowly over Merlin's head, rubbing through his hair. "There, no harm done," he said.
"Thanks." Merlin rubbed his bare arms, aware that he was rumpled and naked from the waist up, and so was Arthur.
"Let's go to bed." Arthur padded barefoot around the bed to his side. His breeches hung low on his hips to display the dip at the base of his spine.
Merlin sighed at his own inability to look away until Arthur climbed into the bed. Then it was Arthur's turn to watch him. He felt awkward under the weight of his gaze until he slid under the covers and had to sigh again at how good it felt to be cocooned in the warmth with Arthur.
The candles guttered out as one around the room, but Arthur still turned onto his side to look at Merlin. His face looked strange in the shadows.
It ought to have felt strange, too, this watching each other in the warm intimacy of the bed. Merlin did have a peculiar feeling in his stomach, and lower even than that. Within the veil of darkness, he could imagine that same queer feeling lurked in the dim lines of Arthur's face and the muted glitter of his eyes.
"Good night, Merlin," Arthur said at last and turned over.
Merlin watched the broad plane of his back for a while longer. He would have liked to lay himself along the breadth of that back and have Arthur take his arm to pull around his middle. It did not seem like such a great step after what they had shared today.
But it was still too much to ask, and he would not risk greed after gaining so much. He turned his back to Arthur's and shut his eyes.
He had barely set foot outside their little room, but it had been the best day of his life.
***
The next morning, Arthur was in a mood. "This water must have been heated last night," he griped as he lowered himself into one of the inn's two full-sized bathtubs.
Over in the other tub, Merlin splashed in the water as it grew warmer around him. Even tepid, it was nicer than the cramped washtub in Gaius's quarters. "I could--" he began and finished by waggling his fingers towards Arthur's tub.
To his surprise, Arthur turned as red as if his bathwater had been steaming hot for some time. "No," he said and grabbed a cloth to begin washing.
Merlin tamped down his instinctive annoyance. He had only boiled Arthur's bathwater that one time. Unless Arthur was not as comfortable with the idea of Merlin using magic on him as he was on other people.
That thought make him slouch down in silence, swishing the water around and now feeling disgruntled at its warmth. Across the room, Arthur was scrubbing himself with undue haste, as though the water might disappear.
The water did disappear over the sides of the tub when Arthur surged up out of it. Before Merlin had time to look up, Arthur was wrapped in a sheet and wrenching his clothes over his wet limbs.
"I'm going to go check something out," he said without looking at Merlin. "I'll meet you at the field."
Merlin sat up abruptly enough to send his own bathwater splashing out over whatever floor Arthur had not already flooded. "Hold up, I'll come with you."
"No." The single word held no room for argument. "Stay here."
"You shouldn't be running around here on your own," Merlin argued anyway. "If anyone recognizes you, or if Morgause comes by for another go, you'll need me."
"I kept myself alive for twenty years before you came along, Merlin," Arthur shot back. "I think I can manage another ten minutes. Wash behind your ears--God knows what's growing back there."
Merlin cupped his hands over his ears as Arthur strode out the door. "I thought you liked my ears," he said to the empty bathing room.
Then he scrambled out of the tub and dried himself with a quick blast of hot air. Arthur's behavior was stranger than usual. That was never a sign of anything good.
He got into his clothes and out the door in under a minute. If someone had managed to cast some kind of enchantment on Arthur inside the inn, he sure as hell was not letting Arthur wander out into their clutches.
And if it was just Arthur being crabby, or having second thoughts about Merlin...well, he still had to keep an eye on him.
Arthur was out of sight by the time Merlin burst out the front door of the inn. He whispered a locator spell that had always been handy when he needed to find Arthur in a hurry.
A tug under his sternum drew him down the street and only stopped when Merlin entered the market square. He craned his neck for a glimpse of bright hair and spotted Arthur next to a familiar cart, talking to Lady Elaine, the seller of love magic.
Talking might have been an inadequate word: Arthur was looming over the woman with the same menace he exuded while hunting criminals through the lower town of Camelot. Merlin hung back to watch as Arthur began to shout. He could not make out the words, but he recognized an interrogation when he saw one.
Unlike Arthur's usual targets, Elaine shouted back. They gestured at each other for a few exchanges before the woman grabbed Arthur by the front of his shirt. She spoke with rapid intensity. With her free hand, she thumped him repeatedly on the chest over his heart.
When she was done, he bowed his head. If Arthur had been anyone other than who he was, Merlin might have thought he looked humbled. The rigid set of his shoulders slumped in defeat as he walked away.
Merlin ducked behind a slow-moving ox cart as Arthur returned the way he had come. He felt a shiver run through him as Arthur passed, as though some strange energy was arcing between them.
As soon as Arthur moved out of sight, Merlin made a dash for Elaine. "Hello," he said as he skidded up to the cart.
She looked up at him and rolled her eyes, jostling her cart into motion. "Lovely, I get the full double act of the idiot twins. I knew I shouldn't have had that extra tankard last night."
"Yes, um, I was just looking for my friend." Merlin offered her the least idiotic smile he could muster. "He said he wanted to ask you something?"
She stopped the cart, almost on his foot. "I don't give children's lessons in the principles of magic, boy. Not unless you're buying something."
"Still don't need anything," Merlin said hastily. Neither should Arthur; anything he needed to know about magic, he ought to have asked Merlin first. "Sorry if he bothered you. He's a bit daft about magic, among other things."
"You don't have to tell me that. Coming to me ranting about love spells, of all things!"
"Wait, love spells?" An uncomfortable knot jammed halfway up his throat.
"Oh, I know. I can hardly believe the lack of education these days. When I was a girl, the first thing we learned what was magic can't do. It can't produce gold, it can't raise the dead, and it can't make anyone fall in love with you."
The gold thing was true--Merlin had tried it, more than once--and the death thing had certain technical loopholes, but-- "He wanted a spell to make someone fall in love with him?" he asked, befuddled because he could not conceive of Arthur doing that, no matter how much he wanted to win Gwen's affections.
"That I could work with. I could make you desperate for me right now before you could think twice about it." Elaine made a derisive sound in her throat. "But he obviously thinks better of himself than that. He wanted to know if a very powerful sorcerer could have made him fall truly in love with someone."
The knot in his throat solidified and froze. "What?"
"Someone inappropriate, says he." Elaine made that derisive sound again, trailing off into a scornful laugh. "Infatuation, attraction, lust, that any hedgewitch can handle, though mind you, not at my quality or my reasonable rates."
"But not love." No spell existed that could change the human heart. Magic could control the mind, fool the senses, make men do ridiculous things, as Merlin could attest through extensive observation, but no more. If it could touch the heart, someone might have healed Uther's long ago and saved them all a great deal of pain.
"Of course not. See, I knew you were the sensible one." She beamed at him, which only made him feel ill. "By comparison, at least."
He gave her a weak smile, but could say nothing else. As he retraced his steps out of the market, anger began overrunning his shock. All the warmth, all the acceptance and trust he had felt from Arthur yesterday was now just a sour taste in his mouth.
How dare he.
A roar of crowd noise swelled up over the town: the tournament was resuming. Merlin hesitated before he turned his steps toward the tourney field. His enthusiasm for all their plans and strategies had deflated in seconds, but he had not gone through all this to quit now.
The first bout had already begun when Merlin arrived at the field. He looked around for Arthur, expecting him to have secured a prime spot in the stands. Instead, he found him after several minutes off to the side, leaning against a wall with his head tipped back and his eyes closed.
Half an hour ago, Merlin would have let his eyes trace the line of Arthur's long throat. Now he only wanted to punch Arthur in the same spot.
Arthur opened his eyes and gave Merlin a tired smile. The curve of his lips was sweet, as though he had not just been looking for evidence that Merlin had forced him to fall in love with...someone inappropriate. As though the high and mighty Prince Arthur could ever have looked at a servant girl and found her worthy of love without some kind of magical intervention.
"There you are," he said. "Good thing you're not going first today. Did your ears really take that long to clean?"
He looked at Arthur with no idea what to say that would not take more time than he had. "Stay where I can see you," he finally said and moved toward the waiting tents. He still did not have one of his own, but lurking there would be better than staying with Arthur.
Arthur caught up with him in a few strides. "Merlin, it was a joke. I didn't mean anything about your ears."
"I don't really care what you think about my ears, sire," Merlin answered, even if some part of him did still care. That was the part of him that hurt the most.
When he stopped near the entrance to the lists, Arthur stopped with him and gave an affectionate tweak to his earlobe. "It's all right to be nervous. I know you're not used to this kind of thing. But you're not going to have any trouble with this guy. He got lucky in the last two rounds."
Of all the things Merlin needed right now, Arthur being sweet was not one of them. "Would you just go watch from the stands like everyone else?" he said through gritted teeth.
Arthur continued to miss the hint. "But I'm not like everyone else," he said. "I'm your support team."
Despite his anger, his mouth twitched. "You mean you're my servant?"
"No, certainly not." Arthur's answer was firm, immediate, and predictable; then his voice took a contemplative turn. "I suppose I wouldn't mind being a magical squire."
Merlin choked on the laugh that tried to escape him. "Seriously, go away. This isn't the safest place for you."
Arthur shrugged. "Your friend Niniane isn't competing for a while yet. If Morgause shows up early, I'd be more than happy to see her."
"That's what I'm afraid of," Merlin muttered as the crowd roared again for the victor of the previous match.
Then it was his turn to step onto the field with his next opponent. The warlock was a slight man with a distinct look of weasel in his face. He reminded Merlin of Cedric. As they took their places and waited for Nennius to signal the start of the match, Merlin thought that if Cedric did reappear, he could have Arthur with Merlin's blessing.
When the match began, the weasel man began shouting a spell before Nennius's hand had finished dropping. Merlin heard the words: a rather boring binding spell. A length of rope appeared at Merlin's feet and began slithering around his ankles.
He was not in the mood to be there, and he was not in the mood for the weasel man. Merlin did not bother with a spell. He lifted his hand and flicked his fingers toward his opponent, sending the rope whipping across the field.
With a frantic look, the man chanted a repulsion spell, but the rope ignored him. It lashed around his legs, then his arms, then finally gagged his mouth to render him helpless. Merlin doubted he could do anything without a spoken spell.
As he expected, the weasel man wobbled until he tipped over. He lay writhing on the ground, trying to free himself even as the crowd cheered his defeat. Merlin was heading off the field before Nennius could finish declaring him the winner.
He made the mistake of looking up as he walked back toward the tents. Arthur was standing where Merlin had left him, grinning like a madman. It was pride and joy and everything Merlin had ever wanted to see in Arthur's face--and it was worse than nothing.
"Right, that's taken care of," he said as soon as he was within earshot of Arthur, not slowing down. "We'd better get seats if we want to see the rest of it."
"Merlin, that was fantastic," Arthur exclaimed as Merlin moved past him. "Merlin?"
"Yeah, it was fine," Merlin muttered as he climbed up into the stands and jostled for space at the end of a bench.
"All right, so it wasn't much of a chance to practice your offensive strategy." Arthur crowded in next to him, still grinning and pressing close against Merlin's side. "But that was brilliant the way you just flicked your fingers, cool as you please, and took him right down."
"Not like Edvard was much of a challenge," the woman behind them scoffed. "We'll see what Emrys can do when he faces a real wizard."
Arthur twisted around with a thunderous expression. As he laid into the woman, and then the man next to her, and eventually the entire row behind them, Merlin stared stony faced out at the field. He concentrated so hard on ignoring Arthur's defense of his abilities that he missed most of the action in the lists. He would never understand Arthur, never.
"What's gotten into you?" Arthur said as they shuffled from the arena at the end of the day's events. "Look, I'm sorry if I was a little short this morning. I had some things on my mind."
"Sure you did." They broke free from the crowd, and Merlin faced Arthur head on for the first time in hours. "I heard all about it from Elaine."
Arthur stopped and his face went blank and still. His throat worked and his eyes stared past Merlin's face. "I see. I won't talk about this here."
"Yeah, wouldn't want anybody to know how you feel." His anger and hurt had dulled over the course of long afternoon; they swept back over him now in a fresh wave of unhappiness.
"Not everyone needs to bleed their feelings into the street." Arthur started walking again. "If you want to scorn me, you can give me the dignity of privacy."
He had a great deal of scorn to heap upon Arthur, so Merlin followed him back to the inn. As the door closed behind them, Arthur turned and leveled an icy look on Merlin.
Merlin shot it right back. "Was there something you wanted to say to me?"
Arthur looked nauseated, which Merlin hoped was guilt eating away at him. "I never really thought you would do that. I didn't want to think it."
"But it was easier to blame the evil sorcerer than have the courage to admit you have feelings for a mere servant." Even as he spoke, Merlin felt the unwelcome sting of hypocrisy. He had taken the easy road himself, more than once, to avoid showing Arthur his true heart.
"It's not my pride that matters, hard as that may be for you to believe." Arthur was still looking past Merlin to the door behind him, face and voice tight. "If I give my heart badly, Camelot will pay the price. I'm not afraid, but I have to be sure my heart is my own before I take that risk. You saw what happened to my father."
"And to you," Merlin retorted, but Arthur's wince was not as satisfying as Merlin had hoped. "I would never do that to you, Arthur, not even if I could."
"I know that. I’m sorry." Arthur's gaze finally settled on Merlin's face. The quiet resolve there deflated the last of Merlin's indignation. "But you know this isn't easy. I won't fight it now. I can't anymore."
He should feel happy for his friends. He should not want to run and get that love charm back from Lady Elaine. "So you're going to propose to Gwen?"
Arthur's mouth dropped open and his eyes widened in exasperation. "I don't--Merlin, have you been listening to a single thing I've said to you?"
"Yeah, I think I got the gist of it." Merlin clenched his jaw to keep his emotions from spilling over. "You're in love with Gwen, you want to marry her, but you wanted to be sure I wasn't trying to influence you. Fair enough. I understand. Can we please stop talking about it now?"
Arthur just looked at him. He knew his misery showed clear in his face, but there was not a damned thing he could do about it.
"The fact that anyone as dim as you is allowed to possess magical powers frightens the hell out of me." His voice held the same thick fondness Merlin had reveled in yesterday. Maybe they could finally get back to normal now.
Then Arthur crossed the space between them, took Merlin's face between his hands, and kissed him. A shock of pleasure flooded him down to his toes. It was less arousal than a shout of pure joy from every inch of his body.
He broke away from Arthur to glare at him with what he hoped was terrifying sorcerous intimidation. "You have to be kidding," he said before pressing back into Arthur's mouth for another kiss, then another. "You better not be kidding."
"Nothing funny about this," Arthur said, though he laughed into Merlin's mouth before their tongues slid together again.
His hands slipped down Merlin's back to pull him closer. Merlin's brain sputtered a protest but had to give into the utter joy of kissing Arthur.
They were twined together on the bed, clothes loosened and skewed, by the time any thought returned to Merlin's head. "What about Gwen?" he asked against the damp of Arthur's throat. He pushed his hands further up under Arthur's shirt, gripping his back as if bracing against the answer.
Arthur pushed him over onto his back and stretched him out over the bed. He pressed a new kiss to the hollow of Merlin's throat. "Don't, Merlin. Not now."
"I know you care for her," Merlin persisted even as he arched up to feel the pressure of Arthur on the growing bulge in his trousers.
"As much as she cares for me," Arthur replied, which dampened the ardor shivering its way through Merlin's limbs.
He started to push himself up on his elbows. "I know how much she cares."
"No, I don't think you do." Arthur took advantage of his position to slide his arms under Merlin's back, cradling him and pinning him at once. "Everything is a grand drama to you, isn't it?"
Merlin stopped talking for the time it took to kiss Arthur again, unable to stop himself. This was grand to him: the press of their tongues, the way Arthur's lips moved against his. He dug one hand into Arthur's hair while the other pulled Arthur's tunic up enough that he could feel the bare skin of their bellies touching.
Arthur kissed his way to Merlin's ear and tugged on the lobe with his teeth. "Are you going to make me talk about this now?"
"No," Merlin answered, because when Arthur had moved, his loosened tunic had also moved. The thick muscle of his upper shoulder lay exposed, and Merlin could not miss the chance to get his mouth on it.
The pressure of the muscle against his teeth made him shiver. The heat of Arthur's breath in his ear deepened it into a shudder.
Then Arthur gave an unhappy groan and rolled away from Merlin. The cool air shocked Merlin's skin; he had already gotten so used to Arthur's heavy warmth in his arms.
Arthur lay on his back and rubbed his hands over his flushed face. "Dammit, Merlin. Why do you always have to make me think? I was a much less complicated person before I met you."
"You have never in your life been uncomplicated," Merlin said and tried not to think about how simple Arthur's honor could make this, how fast he could lose what he barely had.
Arthur cast him a wry look. "Do you know why I first noticed Gwen?"
"She's pretty?" Merlin had tried often to convince himself of all the reasons his friends were right for each other, but it hurt more to think about it with the taste of Arthur still in his mouth.
"Pretty enough, I suppose." Arthur, whose head had been turned by many a pretty face, gave a dismissive shrug. "But mostly, it's that she started to remind me of you."
"Me?" Other than the fact that they were both servants with an inconvenient devotion to their future sovereign, he did not see much resemblance.
"You both talk to me like I'm a person," Arthur said. "You both make me feel comfortable in my own skin--and uncomfortable, like I'm outgrowing myself all the time."
Merlin sat back on his hands, needing more distance from Arthur and the intimacy they had been creating. "She's good for you," he forced himself to say.
"Yes. I'm probably going to marry her." Arthur frowned up at the ceiling as though it were a battle map. "You think she would be a good queen, don't you?"
"Yes," he had to answer, though it seemed unfair to make him say it now. "She's kind and strong, and the people will love her because she's one of them. And they'll love you for marrying her."
"Yes. I always thought I would marry a noble lady," Arthur said. "But honestly, you've met most of them now. Can you see Lady Vivian as queen of Camelot?"
Merlin had seen more than enough of the spoilt Lady Vivian in any capacity.
"I thought I could always marry Morgana, if it came to that," Arthur went on. "But that's not likely now."
"No. And you have to have a wife." Merlin closed his eyes. "So what is this? Something to pass the time until the wedding?"
"I don't love her, Merlin." Arthur still did not look at him, still frozen in that frown. "She doesn't love me, either. Not as a woman loves a man."
"No, she loves--"
"She loves the king she sees in me, and I love the queen I see in her. Yes, she'll marry me, with understandings, but I'm not the man who won her heart. I think we both know who did."
"And what about your heart?" Merlin asked around the tight clench of his chest and throat.
Arthur finally turned his head to look at him with warm resignation. "I also think we all know who won that, don't we?"
Finally, he did. The relief melted the tension holding him upright. He smiled at Arthur with giddy happiness. Slowly, Arthur's smile widened with the same shared joy in their new understanding.
His body had calmed since Arthur broke away. On the heels of the calm came the weariness Merlin could no longer stave off. He stretched himself out next to Arthur. After spending the day tense with anger and fear, he was left rubbery with a pleasant ache.
Arthur's fingers made a hesitant brush against his arm. The touch reminded Merlin that he had the right to touch and curl himself around Arthur with abandon now. So he did.
Arthur made a contented noise in his throat and adjusted his position until they had a comfortable entanglement. As Merlin drifted, he felt Arthur's breath in his ear once more.
"That's what the seer was trying to tell me before," Arthur said with a drowsy slur. "We have to accept who we are, or what we build won't last long enough to matter."
"I hope she wins the competition," Merlin mumbled and then fell asleep.
***
He woke the next morning to find Arthur staring at him from a few inches away.
"Good," Arthur said. "I was afraid you'd sleep away all the time we have left."
Without needing to answer, Merlin pressed into Arthur's kiss. Their lips were dry and Arthur's breath was terrible, but passion got them through until the kiss grew slick and wet.
His body came awake inch by inch under Arthur's hands. Merlin ran his own fingers along Arthur's spine, drawing the fabric of his tunic up. Arthur arched and squirmed into his touch.
As they kept touching, Merlin felt a familiar throb renew between his legs. Between Niniane and Arthur, he had been aroused too much without relief in recent days. Even a hasty toss off had been impossible.
Merlin rolled onto his back and pulled Arthur to climb on top of him. He wanted Arthur's weight on him, something to buck and rub against.
Arthur straddled his hips. He slowly pulled off his shirt; then he reached down and tugged until Merlin sat up enough to let Arthur pull the tunic over his head. Arthur tossed it aside.
A sheen of arousal covered his eyes as he held himself over Merlin on his hands and knees. The bulge in his breeches confirmed his state. Arthur grunted and shifted his hips as he stretched himself over the length of Merlin's body, adjusting himself until the thick ridge of his erection curved up to his stomach under the tight fabric.
Merlin had to feel him. He craned up to Arthur's lips and wrapped one hand around the back of Arthur's neck. With the other hand, Merlin gripped Arthur's shoulder to drag him down to Merlin's body.
The prickle and slide of bare skin on skin made him groan into Arthur's mouth. The groan stuttered into a cry when Arthur finally settled fully onto him and the ridge of Arthur's arousal pressed into his groin.
"I really want you." Arthur sounded plaintive, as if he had not noticed Merlin's hardness answering his.
"Okay." Merlin worked his hand down between them to tug at the laces at Arthur's waist. "That's good."
"No, it's not good." Arthur gave a stifled whimper as Merlin plucked at the laces right over his cock.
He grabbed Merlin's fingers and pinned both his hands out to either side of his head. Merlin started to squawk a protest. Then he found his tongue stroking into Arthur's mouth, which seemed a better use for it.
Several kisses later, Merlin managed to free one hand and curl it around Arthur's bare shoulder. His fingertips dug into the muscle to feel it flex under the soft skin. Just a few more minutes, a little longer to enjoy this, and then he would test how the rest of Arthur's body moved.
Outside, the noon bells rung.
"Oh, fuck." Merlin pulled Arthur tighter, freeing his other hand to get a grip on his back. "Come on, we can hurry."
His love-addled brain took several seconds to register that Arthur was pulling out of his arms. "We do have to hurry," Arthur said as he slid off the bed and reached for his tunic. "You're the second one up today."
Merlin stared at him, double checking to make sure the bulge of Arthur's cock was still where he remembered it being. "Um, maybe it slipped your undertaxed royal mind, but we're in the middle of something here?"
Arthur's head popped out from the neck of his shirt, rumpled and wearing a manic grin. "Got the blood pumping, didn't it? No better way to get ready to compete."
In an instant Merlin was off the bed and pinning Arthur to the wall with his body and magic. Arthur made a small sound of yearning as Merlin showed him what he thought of his strategy. When he kissed back, Merlin unpinned his arms to allow him caressing privileges. The rest of Arthur stayed secured and pliant under Merlin's body.
"Don't you want to win this tournament?" Arthur said even as he stroked his hands down over Merlin's arse.
"Don't you want to get off?" Merlin countered before fastening his mouth to Arthur's neck. He was discovering that he had a favorite spot there that felt amazing under his tongue. The way it made Arthur tremble felt amazing as well.
"Probably twice as much as I already did before you pulled this little trick." Arthur ran his hands back up to Merlin's shoulder blades and clung. "But you can win this whole thing. I won't be the reason that you don't."
"I'm pretty sure I can do both." Merlin traced his fingertips over the laces that strained above Arthur's cock.
"Sex depletes the vital energies, which are even more important for you than for a regular knight in tournament."
The way Arthur's lecturing tone hoarsened with arousal was doing fine things for Merlin's vital energies. "Not a problem, got plenty," he mumbled against Arthur's skin.
"I can always tell which knights are going to go out in the second round, no matter how skilled they are in the first. Do you know how I can tell?"
Merlin sighed and gave up his assault on Arthur's neck in favor of slumping against it in defeat. "How can you tell?"
"By which knights brought their lovers with them," Arthur concluded, sounding smug for someone who was talking himself out of getting laid.
Merlin sighed again. He really wanted to have sex. He also really wanted to win this tournament--and if there was one thing Arthur knew how to do, it was win tournaments.
He stepped back out of Arthur's arms and reached for a clean tunic. He was going to need a long one today. Behind him, Arthur stumbled away from the wall as the magic released him.
"Don't worry, Merlin," Arthur said as he changed his own clothes. "Even the most evil sorcerer in the world never killed anyone with blue balls."
Considering the way his balls ached, Merlin was not ruling out sorcerous intervention of some kind. "Please don't talk to me right now," he said as he jammed his boots onto his feet and headed to the door.
Arthur just grinned at him with that manic battle grin, loving the challenge of it more than any mentally healthy person ought. It was no mystery that competition was as good as sex to Arthur. In his view, they were probably having sex right now as they walked together to the tourney field.
But once Merlin stood on the field, alive with the hum of the crowd and his own power, he felt the sexual drive of it. Over by the tents, Arthur stood amidst a throng of sorcerers looking on. When their eyes met, he grinned at Merlin and nodded with eager encouragement.
Merlin grinned back. This was the first time he could revel in Arthur watching him compete. The magic sizzled through him in anticipation.
He turned his grin on his opponent as the man, called Dirk and more than a match for Merlin's size, walked past him to take his position. "This is just fantastic, isn't it?" he said.
Dirk paused to give him an incredulous look. "Are you deranged?"
"You're not the first one to ask," Merlin called after him.
At the officiant's stand, Nennius lifted his hand. Merlin ran through the combat strategy Arthur had drilled into him: wait for the attack, get the measure of it, and then launch his own attack.
Merlin bounced on the balls of his feet. On the other hand, he already had a pretty good measure of Dirk. There did not seem to be much point in wasting time.
Nennius dropped his hand. Merlin raised his.
"Hringe æledfýres," he intoned.
Flames shot up from the ground and circled Dirk until he was surrounded with no way out. Dirk frowned, but did not look alarmed. He raised his hands and chanted a water spell, then a freezing spell, then a smothering spell.
The freezing spell made the flames flicker slightly, but nothing else had even that much effect. When Dirk found that he could not cast anything outside the boundaries of the fire, his frown finally turned to worry.
Merlin grinned at him again when Dirk looked over at him with helpless rage. He could have left it at that and still won the match, but he could feel Arthur watching him.
He did not know a spell for what he felt like doing, but did not think he needed one. All he needed to do was lower his hand, and then lift it in a fist to--
The ground shook under Dirk's feet before shooting up into the air and taking Dirk with it. Sand poured away in a circular cascade as the bedrock pushed up in a narrow, thrusting column high above the field. Dirk stumbled and started to fall. He wound up clinging to the top of the column, screaming.
"And the winner of this match, once again, is Emrys," Nennius announced to the crowd that was screaming even louder than Dirk. "The next match will be postponed until the field can be stabilized--and extinguished."
Merlin gave a hasty wave at the fire circle to put it out. He considered bringing Dirk down from his perch, but he supposed he should conserve his vital energies. Plus, the man had called him deranged and could probably use a few more minutes to think about that as he clung shrieking to the crumbling tower of rock.
Besides, Merlin had somewhere to be. Arthur was waiting for him.
At the tents, other warlocks and witches surrounded him, pounding his back and asking question after question about what he had done and how he had done it. He mumbled some vague answers--he was never entirely sure himself how he did anything--and kept moving until he brushed past the last person and stumbled into Arthur.
Arthur was frowning. "Merlin, were you showing off?"
"No, I wasn't," he responded and made no attempt to wipe the proud grin off his face.
"Admit it, you were showing off for me." Arthur's frown wavered with the effort of keeping it steady as he stepped close against Merlin. "You weren't thinking about strategy at all, were you?"
"Sure I was." Merlin let his nose brush Arthur's. "I was thinking a lot about the best strategy for getting your trousers off."
"Oh, well done, then," Arthur murmured, and it was as good as coming when Arthur kissed him there in front of everyone in the flush of his victory.
They tried to watch the rest of the day's competition, but people kept approaching, wanting to congratulate the mysterious Emrys and question him. Merlin enjoyed the attention, especially with Arthur hearing every word and looking at him with a fierce pride.
Arthur grunted and looked away when he noticed Merlin watching him. "We're not getting any useful information with all the interruptions from your fans," he groused.
"Yes, you're right," Merlin agreed.
He grabbed Arthur's arm and pulled him up. Arthur looked surprised, but followed him from the tourney grounds without protest.
They wandered to the edge of the town until they found a tree with soft ground and hospitable roots. Merlin pulled Arthur down beneath it and made the most he could of his newfound celebrity.
That night, Arthur crawled into bed, a drowsy smile on his kiss-stained lips. He flopped into Merlin's arms, planted his face against Merlin's chest, and fell asleep within seconds.
He could live like this forever, Merlin thought, here in this perfect life where magic was accepted, even celebrated--where Merlin himself was accepted, and even celebrated. And here he could walk with Arthur as his brother in arms, a knight instead of a servant.
Arthur was brighter and sweeter here in Merlin's world without the onus of his princehood. Here Merlin had him close by his side and close in his arms where he could keep him safe.
They could stay here forever, except that the lack of orgasms was going to become a problem. Merlin stroked his fingers through Arthur's hair to settle his head on Merlin's shoulder. But for now, the warmth of Arthur's body and his regard were enough to sate him.
***
Continued in Chapter 4