The Easiest Thing (+epilogue)

[latenightchai]

[ Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight ]

Epilogue.

Winter passed all too fast it seemed, and the darkening hours, the long nights holed up in the castle, soon faded in favor of the bright warmth of spring; the world reemerged in fresh blooms and endless shades of green.

Merlin wiggled his toes into the soft loam of the meadow, enjoying the feel of earth and existence beneath his skin. The sun had not yet peaked over the tree line, and a fine mist hung in the air, but Merlin barely felt the chill. He leaned back on his hands, looking up into the sky, the bits of blue peeking out from the fog.

“Merlin…!”

The sound echoed strangely in the quiet, and Merlin glanced over his shoulder.

“…Merlin! MERLIN!”

Louder, this time; the whole sky rippled at the shout. The feel of the ground changed, the porous moss smoothing over into the weave of cotton. A shadow passed over the sun-

Merlin rolled his eyes and sighed.

Then he pulled his head out from beneath the pillow and glared up at Arthur. “Wha’isit?”

“It’s time to get up, you lout,” Arthur smirked down at him. He reached down to ruffle Merlin’s hair, not unkindly. “Where have you been?”

“’ve been sleeping,” Merlin complained, ducking away from the touch, trying to bury himself back in the bedsheets. “Until someone so-” his voice broke on a yawn- “rudely interrupted me.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Sleeping my foot. You’re never so still when you sleep. Don’t lie, you were out there, somewhere, again.” He emphasized the word by throwing out his hand towards the window, towards everything out beyond his chambers.

Merlin turned away guiltily. “Maybe.”

“Merlin…”

“I can’t help it!” he cried, honestly. “It just… happens. I’m dreaming and all’s strange and normal, then all of a sudden it’s real, and…”

“And it’s dangerous,” Arthur finished for him. “What if you were to dream yourself into the middle of town? If you were suddenly seen appearing and disappearing in the night…? Sorcery would be the first and only word my father hears.”

Merlin sighed, because they’d been over this before. He couldn’t be afraid or worried, not really, not when he appeared in places always so peaceful and quiet- pure nature, untouched by man, though how he knew he couldn’t say. But it was hard to explain to Arthur, that absolute feeling of calm; how, as sure as he was that he was someplace real, he wasn’t sure he was as substantial. Even if he did appear near people, he wasn’t sure they’d be able to see him. He told Arthur as much.

“No one’s ever seen me, no one will,” he argued, adding “Gwen and Lance didn’t, when I was sick” -but he regretted it, because just thinking about his ‘sickness’ made him shiver. He appreciated Arthur’s hand on his back, rubbing comforting circles over his dimpled skin. Arthur sighed.

“Another reason it bothers me so. This all started when you-” he faltered, because for him, too, even all these months later, it was hard to speak of- “I don’t like it. I don’t like you going away.”

Merlin turned over and Arthur’s hand fell away, but when he could Merlin grabbed that hand, and brought it to rest over his heart. “I’m right here,” he said, giving Arthur a smile. “I’ll stay here as long as I’m able.”

Arthur returned his smile, and lifted their joined hands to place a kiss on Merlin’s knuckles. It was a soft, wonderful moment, and so of course Arthur had to go and ruin it.

“Unfortunately, Merlin,” he said, a sly glint in his eye. “that won’t be too long. You’ve been in bed far too long; it’s time get up. There’s work to be done!”

Merlin groaned and tried to roll back over. “No,” he whined, hugging the pillow to him.

“Don’t be such a child, Merlin. It’s well past dawn -they’ll be expecting you in the kitchens soon to fetch my breakfast.”

“Get your own breakfast, sire,” Merlin said, to which Arthur thought it fit to yank on the covers, exposing his manservant to the cruel, cold air of his chambers. “Oi!”

But Arthur had no mercy, none at all. “The day is wasting! Up you get, you lazy-”

“I wouldn’t finish that sentence if I were you,” Merlin warned, but he sat up anyway, looking around the room blearily. “God, but why do you have to be a morning person?”

“Because I’m the Prince of Camelot,” was his answer, and Merlin rolled his eyes because it seemed like sometimes that was Arthur’s answer to everything. Merlin already knew what was coming next: ‘I’ve trained since birth to vanquish the early hours! I can wake up and be fighting fit in less than a second! Naps flee in fear at the sight of me!’

His guess wasn’t too far off: “I wake up early because I must,” Arthur said. “I need to be alert at a moment’s notice; that is my charge as protector of the people. I can’t set aside duty just because I feel like having a bit of a lie-in. How you don’t understand that, still, after all this time-!” he railed, really getting into his stride- but Merlin wasn’t going to let him.

“I was joking, Arthur,” he cut in. “Don’t.”

Don’t. He’d used that word a lot, in the time since he’d been cursed, since they’d come together. Arthur had promised things would change and they had, in so many ways, but a few months was not enough to erase years of habit.

Merlin had been the brunt of Arthur’s frustrations for so long that such insults were just a matter of course. Arthur could get himself worked up over just about anything, and he could turn just about anything into something about Merlin -into insulting Merlin. Merlin had put up with it over the years and shrugged it off, even when it was unwarranted (because he wasn’t above admitting that a lot of times Arthur’s complaints were. He’d never claimed to be a good servant, and never would again-) but that attitude was also what led them to that disaster in the first place.

If they were to be equals now, truly, Merlin had to be allowed to speak up for himself and be heard, without fearing retribution. He needed a way to tell Arthur he was going too far-and a solid don’t was a simple a way as any.

And it worked. Arthur halted and glanced him over, waiting for a reaction. Merlin shrugged, a lopsided smile to tell Arthur he wasn’t truly mad. He just didn’t want to deal with an argument this morning, or even the possibility of one. Best to end it before it began.

Arthur accepted it, though he looked away briefly. “Sorry,” he said, and it was curt but it was honest and given freely, and that made all the difference in the world.

“Never mind,” Merlin said lightly, changing the subject easily. “So what are we doing today?”

He’d almost forgotten that today was a special day, of sorts- they had the day completely to themselves. Originally Arthur had planned to spend the day in audience, but his father had decided last night, unexpectedly, that Arthur would not be needed.

Arthur, however, had already charged Sir Leon with training the knights in his stead, so he was left with an empty schedule, a day to spend at leisure -and that type of day was quickly growing rare.

The King was diminished, his health failing and his moods capricious at best. Merlin heard it from Gaius that sometimes the ills of the mind could poison the body… and this time, after Morgana, Uther was too guilt-ridden, too overcome to free himself of his demons. Arthur would be acting Regent, if not King, before the summer finished. Merlin knew it with a certainty unlike any other; he felt it like lightening in the air, in the quiet of his dreams, that this was the calm before the storm. Destiny was almost upon them.

So, Merlin thought, all the more reason to relish these days of freedom while they still had them.

Arthur seemed to understand as well, because he let himself smile again. “I think we shall go out to train- no point in wasting the opportunity.”

…So much for ‘relishing.’ Merlin groaned and collapsed back onto the pillows.

“Oh, it’ll be good for you. Get up,” Arthur commanded. “Get breakfast, and pack for lunch. I’ll tell the stable master we’ll be riding out shortly.”

Merlin grumbled something inappropriate, and Arthur swatted at him, though he was grinning. “Up,” he commanded, and left the room.

Merlin closed his eyes and for a second, considered going back to sleep just to spite him. But god knew what unpleasantness Arthur would inflict on him then, and with a heavy sigh he hauled himself completely out of bed.

He went to the kitchens and spoke with Owena. The head cook was as sharp with him as ever, but did as he asked -a good-sized lunch, and an extra helping of figs for breakfast, because Arthur and Merlin both liked them so.

The first few times Merlin had spent the night in Arthur’s chambers, he’d picked over Arthur’s breakfast carelessly, eating fruits that were, to him, a luxury. It had taken him a few days to notice that Arthur always looked mournfully after the spiced figs that disappeared so fast-though he never said a thing. In fact, he made no move to claim any of his breakfast until Merlin had eaten what he wanted.

Merlin hadn’t the heart to eat the figs again. It lasted a week, and then Arthur had sent word to the kitchens, asking for an extra serving of figs whenever available.

It still warmed Merlin just to think about it. It left him smiling all through breakfast, all the way through their journey out of Camelot. They rode the horses side-by-side, close enough that the horses’ tails thrashed each other’s flanks and Arthur could reach out and trail his hand along Merlin’s arm -or jab him in the shoulder, when Merlin teased a bit too hard.

“Ow,” he protested, mostly just for show. Arthur smirked at him and Merlin grinned right back, leaning over close enough to let his breath ghost over Arthur’s ear, “My apologies, sire,” he whispered, delighting in the way Arthur shivered.

Then he spurred his horse, running it ahead and laughing at Arthur’s cry of ‘Brat!’, chasing on his tail.

Merlin kept the lead from then on. They had to be careful about where they went, to make sure it was far enough away from anyplace, anyone- and Merlin knew just the place he wanted to go today. Arthur offered a few token protests about not getting to lead the way, but mostly seemed content to ride with Merlin well into mid-morning.

Merlin knew the moment they reached it. He reined his horse in, and Arthur looked around at the small clearing skeptically. “Where have you brought us this time, Merlin?”

Merlin dismounted inelegantly, half-falling off the horse, but his feet were cushioned by mossy ground -dry now, but still soft to walk on. He flashed a smile at Arthur.

“You wanted to know where I’d gone in my sleep,” he said simply. “It’s here.”

Arthur’s look changed from to one of wonder. “This…? But how did you find it?”

Merlin couldn’t resist. “Magic.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Yes, I could have guessed that, Merlin.” But then he sobered. “But, truly, is this another thing that you don’t know- something that just comes natural to you?”

Merlin nodded. “I just wanted to bring you here… so, here we are,” he said, shrugging. Arthur asked because he wanted to know more about the magic, but there were some things Merlin just couldn’t explain.

Arthur nodded as well, but more as if to himself. Merlin could only guess as to conclusion he drew. “Hm. Well, let us begin.”

‘Training Merlin’ had both changed and not changed since the events of last autumn. It was still completely for Arthur’s benefit, it was still something Merlin found unnecessary and annoying- but in those same ways, it was something they both needed.

It had taken Arthur close to a month to bring it up, although Merlin knew the idea had been brewing in his mind for a long time, with the way he skirted around the issue with a cautious, nervous energy. But eventually Arthur broached the topic, with his usual blunt, commanding air-

‘I’m going to start training you again. We must take it seriously, now; for now I know your true strength, in sorcery, and in that you need training - discipline, strategy. We cannot repeat past mistakes…’

Merlin had not reacted well.

He remembered being indignant. He remembered righteous fury simmering in his stomach, swallowing against the metallic taste of irony -because really, the Prince of Camelot was telling him, a powerful sorcerer, that he needed more discipline? That he needed to be properly trained? After all Merlin had already proved himself to be-?

That argument had been one of their worst. He remembered Arthur trying to argue his point, and he remembered denying him outright. Back and forth they went, until Arthur had broken, pleading-

“Why can’t I help? Why not? I train my knights hard because I don’t want to see any of them go into battle and die because I did not give the best instruction possible. If you insist on fighting for me, putting yourself in harm’s way, how can I not do the same for you?!”

And it had been like a bucket of water had been upturned over him, ice to douse the flames of anger. For he’d heard it in the waver of Arthur’s voice, saw it in the wildness of his eyes; he’d seen it so clearly, then, the fear, and a sense of helplessness so strong it wouldn’t fade from Arthur’s memory.

Arthur and Merlin belonged to each other, true, but Merlin’s magic was a part of himself that Arthur might not ever be able to touch, or even understand. This was Arthur’s way of bridging the gap, of involving himself in this part of Merlin, in the only way he knew how.

Enlightenment had been a fire of a different sort, and he’d all but melted under it. He’d stepped up to Arthur, into his personal space, holding his head in his hands. “Okay,” he breathed, a kiss on Arthur’s brow, his cheek, his lips. “Okay.”

So here they were, having begun as soon as it was warm enough to venture outside, far from Camelot or even any other sign of life. They face off with wooden swords, cautious, while Arthur narrated the basics of one-on-one combat. And Merlin had to admit he’d learned a little bit -his skill with a sword had improved a good deal (by which he meant he’d gone from ‘absolute rubbish’ to ‘only slightly horrible’), and Arthur had proved to be a good teacher.

But when it came to magic? Merlin would never tell Arthur, but he practiced best when alone. And practicing he had been, in secret, having Gaius to send him on fake “errands” into the forest, or sometimes using the solitude his real-not-real dreams.

Because if Arthur was right about one thing, it was that he wouldn’t repeat the mistakes of the past. He was getting better at controlling his magic, learning in leaps and bounds, and he felt that (‘training’ session aside), it truly was Arthur’s support that caused it to be so. Without the fear, the doubt, his magic flowed freely, an extension of himself rather than a wild energy he was trying to harness.

But for now…

“C’mon, Merlin,” Arthur goaded. “Put some power behind it! Don’t swing with your wrist, that’s a sure way to unbalance yourself.”

They’d been at it for an hour already, and in his head Merlin rattled off a list of curses. This was not how he’d hoped they’d spend the day together -but he kept his mouth shut, concentrating on his footwork.

“If you were in one-on-one combat, bad balance could mean a distraction that could cost your life,” Arthur lectured. “Sorcery is all about distraction.”

Not like Arthur really knew, Merlin thought sourly (no matter that it was a little bit true).

He parried a blow that was only at half-strength. Arthur never went all-out on him, not anymore. Instead he went for speed, testing Merlin’s reaction time. Merlin jumped back and Arthur advanced, three quick hits to his stomach, hip, shoulder. Merlin managed to block them all but it pushed him back a few steps, and he almost stumbled.

“Balance, Merlin!” Arthur cried, and didn’t let up. This was the furthest he’d pushed Merlin, and he was having far too much fun with it.

Arthur pushed forward, raising his arms for an overhead blow that forced Merlin to duck down and to the side -but Arthur anticipated it, whirling at the last second to drop a hit that would buckle Merlin’s knee.

Merlin half-hopped to avoid it, but ended up falling, and had to scramble back, out of Arthur’s range. Arthur laughed and let him go, his eyes bright as he watched Merlin push himself up.

“I know you can do better than that, Merlin,” he teased. In two quick strides he in front of Merlin, bending down to pick up Merlin’s sword -but he lingered a second too long, face level with Merlin’s thigh, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re giving in so easily?” he drawled, and Merlin swallowed thickly.

It was only when he’d walked away that Merlin realized Arthur was teasing- payback for earlier, on the horses. Arthur smirked at him and spun his sword in the cradle of his hand, readjusting his grip, challenging.

Merlin grit his teeth. Give in? Hardly. Maybe it was time to give Arthur a little lesson in underestimating his enemy.

So he waited until Arthur advanced, letting him get in a few good blows, backing up so that Arthur would lean in, keeping pressing forward-

And then Merlin stepped to the side, and with a good firm push of magic, had Arthur eating grass.

He magicked Arthur’s sword to his own hand, and waited until Arthur rolled over onto his back until he pinned him down with magic, keeping him prone on the ground.

He stood over Arthur and smiled sweetly. “Give in?”

Arthur grunted, straining against the invisible force holding him down. “Never.”

Merlin raised an eyebrow. “You can’t move. If this were one-on-one combat, I’d sure say being stuck on the ground would cost you your life.”

Arthur grunted again, pushing against the ground to try and lever himself up, and Merlin smirked. He released his Prince without warning, and Arthur shot up, overcompensating and almost toppling over in his surprise. He didn’t though, and Merlin waited as Arthur picked himself and his dignity off the ground. In the meantime he let go of Arthur’s sword and kept it hovering in the air, drifting it over to Arthur.

Arthur glared at the sword, then at Merlin, and back to sword. He looked very skeptical, and Merlin put on his best innocent face. Still, it took a few long seconds for Arthur to reach out and grab it.

And the moment he did, Merlin turned it into a spoon. Not even a big spoon- a tiny, tiny spoon, like the type all the nobles used to eat boiled eggs.

Arthur’s glare could have started a bonfire in the middle of rainstorm. “Not funny, Merlin,” he said, and eyed the spoon like it was going to bite him.

Merlin laughed even harder. “C’mon, it’s a little funny.” Arthur glared some more. “Really, Arthur… Look, I’ll even-” And with that he held up his own sword, now the size of a butter knife. He reached out and tapped it against Arthur’s spoon, laughing.

Arthur made a very good show of staying irritable, but Merlin knew his face too well, and that twitch of the lips, the slight crease at the corner of his eyes, betrayed him.

“Hmph. A perfectly good waste of practice swords,” he still complained, and Merlin sighed. With a soft word he reversed the transformation; the swords were as good as new. He looked his over, running a finger from pommel to point, before looking up at Arthur.

Arthur, who was staring at him with a soft but peculiar expression on his face.

It made Merlin feel self-conscious. “What?” he muttered. “They’re fine.”

At that Arthur shook his head, but he smiled ruefully, all fondness. “You really have no idea, do you?”

“What?”

“Never mind. You never cease to amaze me, Merlin.”

Merlin ducked his head, knowing his blush was far too evident and hating how fair his skin was, especially after winter. “Arthur…”

“You don’t really need my help, do you?” Arthur asked, but it was clear he wasn’t expecting an answer. “You’ve been humoring me, I know. I know, but…”

“I’m grateful for it, Arthur,” he said, completely sincere.

“And I, too.” They shared a look, and then Arthur. “Well, I think it’s safe to say I’ve done all I can. But since we’re here, you might as well get some practice in.”

“You mean-?”

Arthur rolled his eyes and reached out, pushing at Merlin’s shoulder. “What else would I mean? No one’s here. Practice away, do whatever you sorcerer’s do, I don’t know- conjure kittens or rainbows or something,” he added teasingly, and Merlin resisted the urge to hit him back, because then they would probably end up grappling and that would lead to other things and then nothing would get done at all.

But… that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Definitely not a bad thing.

He licked his lips. “Practice. Right,” he said- and then he magicked Arthur right back down to the ground.

Arthur was quick to react, getting his arms under him and pushed up, growling, “Really, Merlin-” But Merlin had already knelt down and all but crawled over Arthur, kneeling with his legs on either side of his thighs, arms thrown carelessly over Arthur’s shoulders. Before Arthur could say another word he leaned in and kissed him, an intention of gentleness that ignited into passion so quickly that it might as well have never even existed at all.

They kissed and kissed and Merlin felt the sunlight burn on the skin of the back of his neck. Without breaking their rhythm he reached behind Arthur, tugging at his wrists so Arthur knew to lean back, to let himself be pushed to the ground again, and Merlin followed him there, down, down, anywhere.

Arthur groaned and said something that was lost to Merlin’s ears, devoured in the swirl of tongue and under the sound of blood rushing to and from his head. He pulled back for a breathe of air, heard Arthur pant his name and their lips brushed lightly, once, twice, and it gave Merlin enough time to consider whether or not he really wanted to do this.

He hadn’t tried this when awake, and certainly not with another person, but… Arthur had said, Arthur always wanted to know…

So he searched inside himself, his magic. No longer repressed and limited to unconscious (stupid unconscious) impulses, it lingered in him like another limb, like a second skin, crackling under Arthur’s every touch.

He took a deep breath and held the air in his lungs, and when he let go, so too he let his magic seep out of him - expanding, encompassing the world around him. Out and out he let it go, until he could feel the ground and all the living creatures in it, worms threading through the soil and ants in their endless tunnels, the roots of grass going down, down, and their blades stretching up into the sky, the air and every molecule vibrating with energy uncontained, up to the cool wisps of clouds being pulled along by the air. He could feel the soft glow of life from the horses, the gentleness of their natures, and he could feel Arthur- the bright, bright light of Arthur, so full of life, the thrum and endless brilliance of his heart-

And it was a rush, such a rush, this feel of enormity contrasted with warm intimacy of Arthur’s mouth, and he pulled back and inhaled and when he leaned in again he breathed his magic straight into Arthur, diving into him and taking him along for the ride.

They felt the world together. Barely touching anymore, just lips to lips, but it didn’t matter because they were beyond that, connected and intertwined and bound together and physical sensation was but a trifling memory. He was kissing Arthur and Arthur was kissing him but they were coming together at the soul, and it was like- it was like-

He breathed his magic back in, too overwhelmed- but it still sung within him, confined to his body but still connected to everything around him. He could still feel Arthur, could feel his awe and wonder and the faint sense of a thought god what was that is there anything he cannot do? and it struck somewhere deep in Merlin, so that he had to pull back and look Arthur in the eye.

His face was flushed and he was panting like he’d just run to Camelot and back, all and all looking dazed- but his eyes held Merlin’s with startling intensity.

Merlin met his gaze evenly, and wondered just how much of that Arthur had felt. Wondered if it had been too much, if he was scared. Anxiety crept up into his throat and he couldn’t speak, and then Arthur grabbed his head and pulled him down for the soundest snog of his life.

And he let Arthur lead the kiss this time, but it had the same power and emotion and it was perfect and it was them- he moaned and his arms were a cage around them, a frame to capture this moment, to keep forever, still and absolute and if he could, if he could-

He froze, so suddenly that Arthur’s mouth slipped off his and landed wetly on his cheek. “Wha-?”

Merlin lifted his eyes and gulped. “Um…”

Arthur too, looked around, and it was kind of funny when he could barely move his head, just his eyes roving around, trying to see what Merlin was seeing, which was- nothing. Nothing at all.

“Merlin…” he said slowly, looking at his horse, which was frozen mid-chew, its tail paused in a graceful arch in the air. “What have you done?”

“Um.”

“Why has everything stopped?”

“I may have… gotten a little carried away?” he said, and Arthur shot him such an incredulous look that he could practically here the scathing ‘may have?!’, and couldn’t help but babble more, “Well, yes, okay I did. I was just thinking- I didn’t mean to- I’ve done it before, stopping time, accidently of course, and I’m sure I can start it again as soon as I want, it shouldn’t be too hard- but, er.”

Arthur stared harder, and Merlin offered a weak smile.

“It’s practice?”

There was a second of silence, and then Arthur huffed, something halfway between a groan and all-out laughter. He relaxed back into the ground and looked up at Merlin.

“And all along I’ve been thinking a soldier’s discipline might be of use -then you have to go and stop time itself…” His eyes drifted over to the small dot of a honeybee, hovering in place above their heads. “And what was all that, earlier?”

Merlin bit his lip, trying to put into words. “Imagine… sometimes, at night, when it’s dark, you hear things so much clearer? You can’t see so all of your other senses are heightened. I’m just reaching out… training my magic ‘sense’. And, I wanted you to see…”

Arthur shifted, and their hips ground against each other. Merlin could feel Arthur’s hardness against his thigh and sucked in a breath, knowing Arthur could feel him, too. The immediacy of the moment was gone, but there was a heat that danced between them still, undeniable.

“-and I… I just. Just got a bit overwhelmed, I think,” he finished, gulping. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Arthur whispered. “But you’ve been discreet for me; it’s still so easy to dismiss.... And then you do something like this. ‘Overwhelmed’ is a good word.”

Merlin sighed, lowering himself down so he was laying flat against Arthur’s chest, chin on hands crossed over the beat of Arthur’s heart. “It doesn’t bother you?” he asked.

“If all your idiosyncrasies truly bothered me, Merlin, I would have gotten rid of you years ago, magic or not. I seem to remember once lying to my father for a sorcerer who was pretending to be a servant, who was pretending to confess to being a different sorcerer…” he said wryly, and Merlin couldn’t help but smile sheepishly. “It boggles the mind. But… at the heart of it, that man risked his life to take the blame for a spell he didn’t cast and spare his friend,” he added gently.

“Arthur-”

But Arthur shushed him. “No matter what you do, how powerful you may be, I know who you really are. I know you, and you could never bother me.” He looked straight into Merlin’s eyes and Merlin felt his heart flutter. “So don’t doubt me, either, alright?”

Merlin remembered those words, from not so long ago, and the urge to smile was so strong it couldn’t be soft, couldn’t be anything other than wide and bright and giddy. “Never.”

“Good,” Arthur nodded, mockingly solemn -then he cast his eyes around again. “Though… I will be bothered if you can’t start time again. As much as I like the reprieve of a free day, this is too quiet for my tastes.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “You Princes. Never satisfied unless there’s a cheering crowd, or something’s roaring and you can swing your sword at it while it tries to eat you.”

“How else would I have my fun?” Arthur replied, and Merlin raised an eyebrow, one leg slipping between Arthur’s, his knee moving in and up. Arthur’s voice came out a higher pitch- “Y-es, well. You are sure you can fix this?”

Merlin scowled. “It’s like you don’t even want to have sex.”

Arthur pinched him on the side, and Merlin squawked indignantly. He gave Arthur a glare and then reached, felt outwards, searching for that taut thread, finding it and holding in his grasp and- snap.

Time resumed; the wind blew, the horse chewed on, and Merlin blew a raspberry right in Arthur’s face.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “You’re insufferable,” he muttered, reaching down to thumb Merlin’s chin.

“But you love it,” Merlin grinned right back, twisting to place a kiss on that thumb. “Admit it.”

Arthur sighed, the very picture of wretchedness. “Seeing as we’re stuck together for as long as destiny sees fit-”

“Prat-”

“I’d have to admit I do. And I am content, god help me, with you- you insolent, wonderful, fool of a man,” he paused, smiling down at Merlin. “Which I guess makes us two fools then, two very happy fools.”

And Merlin couldn’t help but laugh, right in his face- in the face of all the obstacles they’d overcome, and would again, forever if need be. “Now,” he said, “that wasn’t too hard, was it?”

finis.

Goodness, this thing is a beast, even the second time around :'D Please forgive errors that managed to still sneak though - being (relatively) new to this side of fandom, I don't have a beta, and my single set of eyes gets tired quickly, lol. Hope it was still worth the read, however, and feedback is definitely appreciated!

I have a few more ficlets I've done for the kink meme throughout the year and I'll put up here, eventually, as well as any new stuff (all my old fic is Kpop/DBSK-related, and will continue to be updated at dystopialights, for anyone who's interested), but this comm here will be my new home for new fandoms :) 'Til then ♥!