The Easiest Thing (8/8 +epilogue)
[ Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Epilogue ]
Two days passed, and Merlin wasn’t sure if was too soon or too long before he woke and finally felt like himself again. He drifted back to consciousness without ever opening his eyes, taking a deep breath and feeling crisp air cut through his lungs. He exhaled shakily but didn’t feel that rattle in his lungs.
He could hear the sounds of Camelot filter in through the window and guessed it was mid-morning, no earlier. But with eyelids shut, a cover of darkness, he stayed in a ruse of sleep; sure, he might have felt like himself, but that didn’t mean Merlin felt like facing the rest of the world just yet.
He’d had visitors, that first morning, but since then he’d been pretty much left alone to rest and recover. His isolation had been, in a way, both a blessing and a curse, especially once the memories had begun to resurface. As glad as he was for the space, he’d had far too much time to dwell over everything that had happened.
Arthur knew about his magic. Arthur knew about his magic and didn’t care. Or, well, he did care but it wasn’t enough to make him lose his head -or more importantly, lose Merlin’s head.
And then Arthur had gone and apologized, of all things. He’d said everything Merlin had wanted to hear from him, ever, and what was Merlin supposed to do? Accept it like it was no big deal, as if his favorite pratly Prince just went on spouting off love sonnets and kissing babies and apologizing to sick manservants every other day, nothing strange going on here?
It had terrified Merlin -first because of how happy it had made him, and then because it made him wonder what exactly Arthur had done to call for an apology in the first place. But he’d done his best to act normal and accept the apology; he’d said his peace and Arthur left and he’d thought the matter was, for the most part, done with.
What a daft thought that had been.
Only a few hours later, he’d been fed and full and falling into sleep, only to suddenly slip into a reverie of lips and passion, handstouching and desperationforceheat, and… and… oh bugger.
He’d snapped awake, his heart racing, nerves alight, sense-memory dancing on his skin, gasping on a breath because the memory had been him and it had been Arthur- (and another blessing of his seclusion, because he was pretty damn glad no one had been witness to his very prompt, very obvious erection) -but what had Arthur been thinking? How could… did that mean he… and why?
The answer wasn’t far behind; he racked his brain until every move sent a jolt of pain straight to his temple and the pressure behind his eyes was almost unbearable, but slowly the images came into focus; of before, and during- acting thick and blockheaded and oh, all but leading Arthur on, Merlin couldn’t believe he’d… But then, after- god, little wonder Arthur had been lashed out, he’d been humiliated and Merlin knew how awful he reacted to that sort of thing… But he really did lash out, terribly, violently so, and he’d thrown Merlin about like he was nothing… and what had happened then…
It all seemed to unravel from there: confronting Aerona, being ill, back to Lancelot and being discovered as bewitched. He remembered Arthur tying him to the bed but also Arthur binding his injured wrist; he saw when he was unable to touch anything and when was unable to stop cleaning Arthur’s room, and sniping at Gwen and eating Leon’s leftovers and overlooking Arthur’s misery and never smiling and feeling so, so weary… and he remembered the ‘if.’
He remembered laying at bed at night, staring at the ceiling and trying to fall into sleep, and wondering what it would like if he were a better servant… wondering if it would be better.
Well. Merlin was pretty sure he had his answer -and he felt like an idiot.
He could tell himself that he was enchanted, that his actions weren’t his fault - he more than anyone knew the sway and consequences of ill-made spells - and that he was a total victim. He could tell himself that, but he couldn’t make himself believe it -not when he knew the truth.
As angry as he wanted to be at Arthur, for taking everything for granted, for taking advantage - he was all the more upset with himself. When it came down to it, it was all his own damn fault. He’d up and unconsciously ensorcelled himself (and what kind of sorcerer did that make him?) and then made matters even worse by going around pushing every damn one of Arthur’s many, many buttons.
It was his own behavior he had to be ashamed of… and he really, really was.
Even now, he was blushing just thinking about it, and he threw an arm over his face, groaning into his elbow. There was a week’s worth of memories to be embarrassed over, and yet his mind kept drifting back to that one night. How could he face Arthur, knowing that their combined stubborn-assery had almost led to them to…?
The worst part was that he didn’t even know what freaked him out more: that they almost had, or that they hadn’t because it ended so terribly. Or, hell, maybe it was because if they had, Merlin wouldn’t have even gotten to enjoy it properly.
God, he didn’t even know what to think anymore.
It was so bad that he didn’t even care that Arthur hadn’t been back to see him. He didn’t care because that would mean facing him and having a talk -and it had all been fine and dandy when he thought it’d be the usual ‘Hoorah, we’ve somehow surmounted insurmountable odds! Let’s shoulder-punch it out’ sort of talk.
But now he knew Arthur had been putting a whole different kettle over the fire -it was a kettle called Merlin, MerlinandArthur, and he didn’t particularly want to talk about them. They’d gone for four years without talking about big, important things like them, so they could just keep on doing it for a little while longer.
Forever, preferably.
And Merlin really didn’t care that Arthur hadn’t been to see him. Nope. He didn’t care one bit.
So instead he kept his eyes shut and willed his skin to cool, and listened to the sound of people outside doing work and other things, and tried to enjoy the feeling of feeling well and still getting to laze around in bed. One had to take advantage of such luxuries, because to not would be to waste a good lie-in. And Merlin hated wasting a good lie-in.
He stretched out, feeling the little bones in his spine pop loose, and didn’t move again until much later, when Gaius knocked on the door to bring him lunch.
“C’min,” he said, already sitting up to greet Gaius.
“Oh good. You’re up,” Gaius said while giving him a knowing look. Merlin answered him with a cheeky smile. “How do you feel?”
“I feel great, Gaius-” physically, anyway, but Gaius didn’t need to know otherwise “-think I’m all healed up!”
“That’s wonderful to hear, Merlin.” He set down the tray and handed Merlin his bowl of stew. He took it immediately and dug in with zeal, pausing only every so often as Gaius checked him over.
“Dia’gnothith?” he asked around a mouthful of food, once the physician was done. Gaius shot him a disparaging look, to which Merlin only shrugged, grinned, and kept on chewing.
“I see no reason to think you’re not completely cured,” Gaius finally said. “You are remarkably improved -fit as you ever were, not that that’s saying much.”
“’Eey-!”
“Yes,” Gaius chuckled, “A remarkable recovery.”
“Mmm’urac’ulla’uthulf’thth’n.”
“Ay, how many times have I got to tell you, my friend?” Gwaine cut in, appearing in the doorway and leering at Merlin. “They use words here in Camelot… bit prissy for my taste, prefer grunting m’self, but it does wonders getting the point across.”
“Gwai’e!” he cried, this time sputtering a bit of food- but only a little.
Gwaine grinned, but then turned to look at Gaius. “Hope I’m not interrupting… I figure the patient is cleared for visitin’ by now?”
“I doubt that would have stopped you,” Gaius answered wryly. “But I have just given him a clean bill of health. And indeed, there are things I must attend to now, as well, so if you could keep Merlin company?”
Gwaine gave a little bow. “T’would be an honor,” he said gravely, and Merlin chuckled, swallowing a large chunk of stew.
“Come in, take a seat,” he offered.
Gwaine didn’t hesitate, striding forward and dropping onto the edge of the bed. Gaius, who’d already stood to concede his chair to Gwaine, shook his head but said nothing about it. “I’ll return in a few hours, Merlin. I trust you to stay out of trouble until then?”
“Of course, Gaius,” Merlin answered.
“He’s safe with me, good sir,” Gwaine chimed in, but Gaius narrowed his eyes and left, grumbling under his breath. They didn’t speak until he’d left, at which Merlin turned to his friend with a questioning grin.
“What did you do to get on his bad side?”
“And what makes you think I did anything?” Gwaine protested, only to give in under Merlin’s skeptical stare. “I may or may not have made a bit of a nuisance of myself a few days ago.”
Merlin chuckled. “You, a nuisance? I’d never!”
“Well, your physician didn’t take kindly to me loitering around. After we’d all seen you, the old man tried to chase us off, and of course Gwen and Sir Nice-a lot-”
“Gwaine-”
“Well, that double act -who are not, by the way, half as subtle as they think they are- let themselves be chased away easily enough, but of course I wasn’t about to leave my best mate alone, even to his dreams.”
“How very gallant of you,” Merlin said wryly, though inwardly felt a spark of happy warmth.
Gwaine seemed to sense it and flashed him a gentled smile -and a wink. “You’re welcome. So as the stories go, the very Gallant Gwaine attempted to sneak in many a time to see his good friend, but was unfortunately caught. Neither logic nor charm would sway his captor, and in conclusion, the evil Gaius beastie banned all visitors from fair Merlin’s room until he was completely healed.”
“Well healed I am,” Merlin replied immediately, only to realize a second later exactly what Gwaine had said. “Wait, he banned all visitors?”
“Of course!” Gwaine scoffed. “You didn’t think we’d only come to see you once, after spending so much time fearing we’d lose you completely?”
Merlin looked away, mumbling, “Well, it was hard to tell, I was sleeping so much… I knew you’d eventually come back to see me, of course, and I knew Gaius probably wanted me undisturbed, but…”
He trailed off, and Gwaine gave him a long, measuring look, coming to some conclusion a few seconds later with a soft ‘ah.’
“So you haven’t seen Arthur yet?” he asked, and Merlin blushed.
“Not quite,” he said, babbling. “I mean, when I first woke up, he was there of course. But he said he’d come back and then he… didn’t. I know he has a lot to do, and of course he didn’t need to come up and check on me, it’s only been two days and I’m already healed so I can go talk to him myself, soon. Not that I really want to anyway, because…”
Gawine waited until Merlin had talked himself out once more, and then shook his head. “Merlin, my friend. You are hopeless.”
“What?” he shrugged half-heartedly.
“I thought the princess was bad,” he said ruefully. “But you’re no better. You two are birds of the same damned feather.”
“Is that a compliment or an insult?” Merlin joked, but it was forced.
Gwaine put a hand on Merlin’s shoulder, squeezing comfortingly. “It’s both.”
He huffed. “It’s just. After everything that happened… where do we even begin?”
“He took a while to come around,” Gwaine admitted. “And I was the hardest on him, no doubt. But we’ve talked, since, and he has come to see you, though he was turned away. This ordeal, as many mistakes were made, also managed to get through that thick skull of his. I’d say he deserves the second chance.”
“I know,” Merlin sighed. “But it’s not just that. Arthur was… yes, he was cruel. But it wasn’t intentional -if I had been more aware of myself, it would have never happened the way it did. But I wasn’t myself. I wasn’t there for him, and I should have been. I should have never let it happen.”
Gwaine’s hand slid up, clasping his neck gently, turning his head to make Merlin look at him. “He’s a grown man, Merlin. He’s the Prince. He can’t depend on you for everything.”
“But-”
“He can’t. You can take every burden in the world, Merlin, but that doesn’t mean you won’t break under the weight. That’s exactly what we all saw happen, and god knows I don’t want to see it again -nor does Arthur. If you keep blaming yourself for things out of your control, you’ll be of no use to anyone.”
“I feel useless anyway,” Merlin whispered. “Everything I do… I try, and I try-”
“And we’re all here because of that. You don’t give up and you never stay down for long, no matter the odds. That’s all the matters,” Gwaine stressed, then grimaced. “And I’ve spent a damned fortnight staring into that somber face of yours, so put on a smile and keep it that way.”
Merlin couldn’t resist even if he wanted to. “Thanks, Gwaine.”
“Don’t mention it, gorgeous,” he teased, and Merlin felt heat go to the tips of his ears. Gwaine’s grin widened and Merlin shook his head, trying to cover it up.
“What am I going to do with you, Gwaine?” he sighed.
But Gwaine just chuckled, squeezing Merlin’s neck once more before letting go. “You’re not going to do anything with me. Don’t think I don’t know I lost my chance a long time ago, if I ever had one.”
“Gw-”
“Say nothing of it. I’m not that delicate,” and really, he didn’t seem bothered at all. He smiled at Merlin fondly. “But there is someone you should be doing things with, if you know what m’saying.”
He rolled his eyes. “I always know what you’re saying, thanks a lot.”
“No problem there, mate,” he said cheerfully. “So, think you’re ready to man up and go face his highness? Talk it out and hug it all better and-”
Merlin choked. “But-”
“No ‘buts’ Merlin, there’s no time like the present!”
“Gaius’’ll be upse-”
“Sod Gaius. He’s kept you cooped up here long enough, and he was the one who declared you fighting fit, didn’t he?” Gwaine reasoned, already pulling Merlin up and out of bed. “Now get yourself cleaned up, and let’s go find you a princess, eh?”
*
Cleaning up took a little longer than planned, mostly because Merlin was still weak on his feet and Gwaine was impatient, resulting in a lot of outraged ‘Gwaine!’s and ‘Let me do it-!’s and nagging ‘Well, hurry it up’s, ‘Princesses don’t wait all day!’s. They emerged from the ordeal red-faced and smug, respectively, but Merlin was undeniably much more presentable than the sleep-mussed layabout he’d been before. Merlin hadn’t even realized how bad he’d been until he could practically taste the cleanliness of his skin.
Gwaine only let him pause to write a note to Gaius, explaining he’d been abducted and there was nothing to be done, give his love to Gwen and don’t let Lance be too aggrieved; and then he was whisked away, all but marched up to Arthur’s chambers.
“…He’s not here,” Merlin said after a pause, breaking the silence left by Gwaine’s dramatic flinging-open of Arthur’s chamber doors.
“Ay…” Gwaine mused. “I expect he wouldn’t be, would he?”
“He’s a very busy Prince. Training, audiences, patrols… he might not even be in Camelot,” Merlin ventured, only partly hopeful.
Gwaine clucked his tongue. “Course he is, I saw him this morning. Stay here, Merlin. I’ll be right back.” And, without waiting for a reply, he slipped out the door and shut it firmly behind him.
“I supposed I’ll just wait then,” Merlin spoke to the empty room. With a resigned sigh he sank into a chair, running a finger along the swirling grooves in the wood of the table. Arthur’s breakfast had been left at the other end of the table, its half-eaten contents spilling out over the plate.
It was a right mess, and in the back of his mind Merlin felt the nagging urge to clean it up- and for a moment he was struck with fear, wondering if he hadn’t exorcized himself of the spell completely (please, please let it not be the spell, he pleaded), but the longer he stared at it the more he realized it wasn’t any unnatural compulsion. It was just the fact that it was a godawful wreck of a good meal and of course Arthur wouldn’t have the decency to eat neatly, or at least clean up after himself.
But he would not clean it up. No he wouldn’t. It was the principle of the thing.
What sort of message would he send to Arthur if he just kept on going about as usual, picking up after him and pretending nothing was different? If they were going to make a real change between… them, then he couldn’t keep picking up after Arthur. He wasn’t just a servant, and he couldn’t pick up that plate. He wouldn’t. He would not. No chance…
Oh, what the hell. He sighed and dragged himself out of the seat, skulking over to the end of the table and picking up the plate before plucking bits of food back onto it. Grape stems and thick crumbs of bread and cheese. “Eegh, god. Why the-?” he grumbled under his breath, using his fingertips to toss a globby bit of fat back onto the plate, trying to touch it as little as possible. “Gross.”
“Merlin?”
He jumped and his hand almost flew to his heart, before he remembered he was holding food and shoving said food into his chest would probably give him the mocking of a lifetime, and deservedly so. Instead the plate kind of wobbled in his hand and he waited to make sure nothing had fallen before he looked up.
It was Arthur, hand still on the door latch, staring at Merlin with a peculiar uneasy expression. “What are you…?”
Merlin looked at Arthur, then down at himself, the plate in hand. “Oh.” He half-dropped, half-threw the plate back onto the table. “I was just… cleaning up?” he said hesitantly, then more familiarly: “It wouldn’t kill you to do some of your own work, would it? Builds character, they say.”
The tension bled visibly from Arthur’s shoulders, and he stepped into the room, casting a withering glare at Gwaine, who was hovering behind him in the hallway. “This was the emergency?”
Gwaine, to his credit, kept a straight face. “Absolutely dire,” he said, adding the “sire” at the last second.
Arthur shut the door in his face.
Then he turned to Merlin, arms crossed over his chest. “And who are ‘they’?” he questioned.
“What?”
Arthur raised an eyebrow. “‘They say it builds character’? Who are ‘they’?”
“Oh, you know,” Merlin hedged, waving his hand in the air. “…People.”
“Well, thank you for clarifying, Merlin,” Arthur drawled. “As exact as ever, I see.”
Merlin snorted and said, pointedly, in his best Prince-prat voice, “Why hello, Merlin. Glad to know you’ve recovered from that awful life-threatening curse, how are you feeling? Are you sure you’re supposed to be out of bed?”
At least Arthur had the decency to blush, though he hid it well, clearing his throat. “Yes, well. I’ve been keeping an ear out, of course, I’d have known if things weren’t right. Gwaine told me you were up and well…”
Merlin sighed. “Come off it, Arthur. I was joking. And I am fine. Thanks,” he added, no sarcasm intended.
Arthur seemed to understand. His arms uncrossed, falling to hang uncertainly at his sides. “I would have come, I tried…”
“Gwaine told me you did,” Merlin cut in, smiling. He couldn’t help it; all the awkwardness he’d felt when he’d been alone, it had all but disappeared. Any bad feelings, any discomfort just couldn’t survive in the face of Arthur’s bravado and inept penitence. It was almost endearing, really.
“Listen, Arthur… I-” He stopped, because he still didn’t really know what to say next. He chewed on his lip and Arthur clenched his hands in agitation.
“I supposed you’ve remembered, then?” he said, his voice stilted.
Merlin nodded, head lowered; but he couldn’t resist looking up at Arthur through the fringe of his bangs. The Prince had squared himself, shoulders rolled back like he was preparing himself for battle, or maybe the most boring of speeches (seriously, because even Merlin would rather face open combat than listen to some of the council elder’s speeches).
“And your answer remains the same?”
It took a moment for Merlin to get the reference. “What? -Oh, yeah. Yes. I guess.”
“You guess?”
“I don’t know. Maybe?”
Arthur rolled his eyes like he couldn’t help it. “It’s an absolute wonder you manage to instill such confidence in those around you, Merlin, because sometimes I think given the opportunity you’d be unsure as to which shoe goes on the right foot.”
“It’d be the right shoe, obviously.”
Arthur shook his head. “That’s not- I want to be serious, you dolt. I’m trying to be serious, to be honest. To do right by-” Then he paused; he looked away and his brow furrowed as if he was thinking hard, or trying to fight an emotion from his face. “Unless, would you… would you rather not speak of it? If you don’t-”
“But I do,” Merlin cut him off quickly, and in the aftermath, under Arthur’s searching gaze once more, he felt all too bare. He spoke in broken phrases, trying to piece it all together. “It’s not… that I don’t. But, Arthur, you can’t. You can’t imagine, what it’s like… to wake up and find everything so different, and… and not know why- but then, when you do learn why, and you remember everything that’s happened and, and everything you’ve done is exactly what you’ve feared your entire life…”
“Merlin, it wasn’t-”
“But it was. And you don’t know. What you don’t know could fill the entire damned castle, Arthur. I have fought so hard to make things right, and I never get any thanks and most of the time I feel like I don’t know who I am anymore because I’m too busy being your servant or destiny’s sorcerer and I don’t want to be either of those things. I just want to be me, and here I go almost losing everything over a stupid, stupid whim…”
And he would have gone on, he probably would have babbled till his voice went hoarse, but just then Arthur very carefully stepped forward, right up to him, and put his hands on Merlin’s upper arms. He touched Merlin without hesitation, without pardon or pretense, not to interrupt or chastise or assist or goad; not because he had to. He touched Merlin and that’s all it was, a touch- just comfort through human contact, empathy and encouragement and he didn’t know why it struck him so, but suddenly Merlin found he couldn’t speak any more. He stopped all but mid-word, mouth still slightly parted, stunned and unable to do anything but focus on the twin spots of warmth on each arm.
Arthur, too, seemed taken aback by his abrupt halt, and standing so close Merlin could hear him gulp; Merlin’s eyes caught on the bob of Arthur’s Adam’s apple and stayed there, fixed on his throat. But then Arthur’s hands twitched and he started to lean back, to take his touch away, and Merlin couldn’t stand the thought.
He swayed forward, speaking with the movement of his body, and Arthur was quick to react to his plea, simply readjusting his grip, gentle but steady, instead of removing it entirely. Only then did Merlin allow himself to relax, to melt into the touch. All of the weight of the moment rested upon him and his head bowed under the pressure, inevitable, until it came to rest on Arthur’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry, too,” he breathed, the warmth of skin and cotton on his lips. “I never meant for it to happen like that.”
A confession, for his mistake, his magic, for everything. Arthur tsked and slid a hand up to his head, carding his fingers through Merlin’s hair even as he placed a kiss at Merlin’s temple, soft enough to make him shake.
“I know,” Arthur said, soothing. “I know, because god knows I feel the same. You never deserved any of it, and I owe you, I know I do... It’s my faul-”
Merlin twisted his head and leaned a little closer. “No more blame, okay? I’m tired of it. It’s all the same.”
Arthur was subdued. “Alright,” he said, after a moment. “But there are still… things to be said.”
“Are there?” Merlin challenged, genuinely curious.
Arthur didn’t seem to know what to say. “I…”
“Why do we need to say things we already know?” Merlin pleaded. “Why do we need to keep dragging it up again? If we’ve forgiven each other already...”
At that Arthur sniffed, his hand winding a little tighter into Merlin’s hair. “You idiot. Do you think that’s all there is to this, apologies?”
“…No,” he admitted, shoulders slumping as the fight left him. “Doesn’t mean I want to talk. Can’t we just let it lie? We never talk about things, not like this… and besides, since when have you been all about sharing feelings?” he muttered.
“Says the man who cried for a unicorn. Since when have you not wanted to?” Arthur teased.
“Shut up, that’s totally different,” Merlin groused, pinching Arthur’s side.
Arthur huffed, a small ‘Ow’, but Merlin could feel his smile. “If you say so.”
They were silent a moment, comfortable. Merlin was reluctant to break it, but… “Then, what did you want to talk about?”
Arthur took his time in answering. “A great many things. I’ve had a lot of time to think, this past fortnight.”
“Didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”
“You,” Arthur growled, tweaking Merlin’s ear. Merlin responded by rubbing it along the line of Arthur’s chin -intending to annoy him, but instead quite quickly reminding them both of their proximity. They were all but embracing, Merlin’s face cozily set into the slope of Arthur’s neck. Whereas Merlin froze, face heating (and oh, he realized, no doubt Arthur could feel it, too, and he wasn’t even sure how that made him feel), Arthur’s grip on Merlin shifted, tightening fractionally.
“You remember that, too?” Arthur asked eventually, so very softly.
Merlin inhaled sharply, but his answer was just as quiet. “How could I not?”
“...I want to talk about that.”
“Oh,” Merlin said lightly, but inside his head he was flailing about dramatically. “That,” he said, almost like a question.
“Yes,” Arthur answered.
“Of course.”
“…Right.”
There was another gap of silence, but this was distinctly different from the comfort of before. They were both acutely aware of each other; Merlin could feel Arthur’s every breath, the tension of muscle beneath skin; the way Arthur’s thumb made slow, tender circles of pressure at the base of his neck. He felt when Arthur’s mouth parted and when his eyelash fluttered down, his eyes sweeping over what little of Merlin’s expression he could see.
Merlin didn’t know what he was showing to Arthur, but he knew his pulse was leaping and his hands hovered over Arthur’s hips, fingers brushing the frayed ends of his shirt. He looked up at Arthur, gauging his reactions as he pulled back, slowly, straightening, meeting him eye to eye.
He took a deep breath. “So…”
And Arthur said, “Merlin,” all sincerity and soft apprehension.
And Merlin said “Oh, hell,” and ducked in and placed a firm kiss right on Arthur’s lips. He lingered there but a moment, just enough to feel the pressure of Arthur’s response, and then he leaned back, biting his lip and surveying the result.
Arthur looked a little gob-smacked. “That’s…er. That’s not what I meant by talking,” he finally said.
Merlin shrugged, his arm winding around Arthur’s waist. “Get’s the point across, doesn’t it?”
Arthur frowned thoughtfully, tilting his head to the side in that way that said he wasn’t ready to buy the point that Merlin was trying sell. So he opened his mouth to further argue his case, but the moment he did Arthur swooped forward and captured Merlin’s mouth -just as demanding and arrogant as Merlin remembered but this time, so very, very welcome.
When they finally pulled back, it was to Arthur leaning his forehead against Merlin’s and sighing deeply, eyes still shut. “Are you sure, Merlin? After everything that’s happened…”
“Of course, you prat,” Merlin said, nipping at Arthur’s lips again. “Especially after everything that’s happened- you don’t think I’d up and leave you now, do you? ‘Cause we passed that point the day I decided staying around your arrogant ass was worth drinking a goblet-full of poison, and lying for you even though your father puts me in the stocks, and always mucking out the stables, not to mention risking my neck just for staying in Camelot at all-”
Arthur opened one eye. “I get the point, Merlin.”
“-And it’s not like I haven’t reconsidered a time or two,” Merlin went on, ignoring his Prince, “or every other day, but I think it’s safe to say that if in four years I haven’t turned my back on you once, I’m not about to do it now. So don’t put words in my mouth, and doubt me when I’ve never given you reason to.”
Arthur was still for a long moment and then he nodded, pulling away completely. He walked backwards, one hand grabbing at Merlin’s and dragging him along with him.
Merlin quirked an eyebrow, challenging, but Arthur shook his head without answering- and for one, wild moment, thought that Arthur actually meant to take them to bed. His mind kind of stuttered over that one, and by the time he thought to say something Arthur had redirected them over to the other end of the table, and was pushing Merlin into the chair that he usually sat in.
And then Arthur knelt between his legs.
“Arthur, what-?!” he started, but again Arthur shushed him, putting a hand on his lips.
“I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” he said, hands kneading at Merlin’s knees. “And what you’ve just said has reinforced my belief. Because, in the greater scheme of things, you have never given me a reason to doubt; certainly not anymore than I’ve ever doubted myself. In truth you’ve so often been the one to give me strength, to offer unconditional faith, even when I wouldn’t recognize it for what it was, and what it genuinely meant to me. But I can, now. I do.”
Merlin put his hand over Arthur’s, threading their fingers together.
“You’ve given me your loyalty, your greatest gifts, and it seems like there is nothing I can give to you in return. Lancelot has told me -on many occasions, since you’ve awoken, that he believes you deserve knighthood.”
Merlin made a face, and Arthur chuckled. “I imagined that would be your response. Knighthood wouldn’t suit you; nor would it be possible, as long as my father is king. But… I think we both know that won’t be long. And when I am King, you will get the recognition you deserve. It won’t be knighthood or some trifling gift of land and title; you’re not a favorite. Well, not just a favorite, anyway” he corrected, mischievous in the face of Merlin’s unimpressed glare.
But Arthur sobered quickly: “However… it will be something noble, something remarkable. Something worthy of you. I swear it. Until then, however, I can only give you my word, my allegiance... and myself, if you’ll accept me.”
Merlin closed his eyes; relishing the moment and half-afraid if he kept them open he might do something as appalling as cry. But he composed himself quickly, and in the meantime he felt Arthur shift impatiently on the floor- and couldn’t resist the temptation.
“I accept,” he said slowly, earnestly, only to grin openly- “but! Only if I never have to wear the ceremonial hat again. I want a new hat, a better one. Oh, and a coat! I want a leather coat, a black one, with… silk! A nice black coat lined with silk-”
The swat to his head was completely expected. “And you wonder I always call you a girl, Merlin. Here I am, pledging my loyalty and love and all you can think about is clothes, my god-”
The kiss to shut him up was also to be expected, but Merlin didn’t think either of them would be complaining anytime soon.
[ epilogue ]