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Chapter Text

It was barely past dawn when Morgana began to hear nervous shuffling in her chambers. After a few long minutes, Gwen finally peaked through the witches curtains, looking apologetic.“Morgana,” she whispered, looking to see that the witch was fully awake and staring at the canopy. “Morgana, what are you doing?”

“Trying to remember when I first lost the will to live.” The noblewoman looked over at her… lover . The word was still fresh, filling her with something exciting that she hadn’t felt in years. In fact, she hadn’t felt anything like it since the first day she had met Gwen. Pulling herself from her thoughts, Morgana sat up. “Why are you here so early, anyways?” 

The maidservant looked away guiltily. “I know it’s early, I hope I’m not bothering you or anything.”

Morgana tried to swallow down her excitement. As ready as she was to jump into this courtship, Gwen was shy and had been dragging her feet. Morgana respected her— she really did— so she didn’t question the other woman’s boundaries. Until now, they had only kissed (exactly 11 times since they had returned from the expedition— 6 days ago…not that Morgana had been counting or anything…) and cuddled once. Is this her way of trying to ask for something more? 

“Of course you’re not bothering me,” she managed, scooting aside on the bed that now felt uncomfortably soft after living in hovels for so long. “Come, sit.”

Still not making eye-contact, the brunette scooted into the bed, letting the bed curtains fall shut behind her, twisting her bronze fingers in her skirt. “I wanted to talk about something,” she said finally. 

“Yes?” Morgana watched Gwen’s face unblinkingly, leaning in the slightest bit to convey her obvious reciprocated interest. Gods above, she’s pretty. 

“This morning,” the maidservant began, apparently oblivious to the ravenette’s advances. “I…” 

“...you?” Morgana’s voice had already dipped lower, imagining all the possibilities. Perhaps she had a dream about me? Or even better, fantasized about me while awake in bed? Let her vivid imagination run away with her and—

“I found this under my door.”

“What.” 

Gwen reached into the pocket of her apron, pulling out a wrinkled sheet of paper, smoothing it on her lap. On it was handwriting that could be best described as “chicken scratch”. SUPER SECRET MEETING OF WING(WO)MEN!!!  The scrawl across the top declared. Underneath was a mess of smeared ink that seemed to say “for your eyes only”, “destroy this message after memorizing it”, and “convene in the chambers of our resident witch”. Well, at least, that’s what Morgana thought it said. There were so many misspelled words and stains that stunk suspiciously of mead that she was nearly worried for the writer of the dismal note. Nearly. 

“What is it supposed to be?” The witch asked, trying to keep her voice even against the crushing disappointment of having hyped herself up for a steamy makeout session and the urge to roll her eyes at the “meeting” she had just read of. 

“I think it’s from Gwaine,” Gwen supplied.

“ Ob viously,” Morgana laughed. “Smells just like him. Alcohol, loneliness, and disappointment.” 

The maid hid a smile at that. “Oh, come on, dear.” She said. “Be nice.” 

Dear. The word made the former ward’s heart flip. Fighting her own grin, she sighed. “If you insist, I’ll consider it,” she replied. 

Gwen laughed. “I suppose that’s the best I can expect for now,” she said, fingers returning to fidget with the paper as she avoided eye contact. “Ahem. Anyways…” she looked back up. “I found a similar note. On your floor as well, when I walked in.” She drew out the other note, handing it to Morgana. 

The ravenette looked over it, considering what it entailed. “Resident witch, huh?” She mused. “I suppose they mean me.”

“That’s what I assumed,” Gwen shrugged. “I think we can both guess what this meeting is supposed to be about.”

Morgana let herself fall back against the pillows. “Unfortunately. Can’t they just snog and figure out their issues?” 

“Looks like they’re going to need our help,” the brunette shrugged good-naturedly. “You’re alright with Gwaine holding this convention in your chambers without asking?”

“If ‘alright’ means planning a slow and painful murder, then yes, Gwen. I’m alright.”

That night, at the strike of the tenth bell of the evening, Morgana sat in her favorite armchair as Gwen paced across the carpeted floor. A knock rung out against the thick wood of the witch’s door and the maidservant gave her lover a wide-eyed look before rushing over to open it.

“Gwaine,” the brunette said, smiling as if this was an entirely normal meeting and the knight wasn’t shrouded in a thick cloak that nearly obscured his face, attending a secret meeting that he was supposedly hosting in another’s chambers. 

“Let’s get this party started,” the dark-haired man grinned, stepping in and planting his hands on his hips. “The others should be here soon. We have work to do.”

A few minutes later, it seemed that everyone had congregated. Morgana has migrated to perching on the edge of her bed, where she had convinced Gwen to accompany her. Spread in a circle across the floor to her right were Leon, Elyan, Percival, Gwaine, Lancelot, all huddled closer together. On her left sat Gaius in a chair, eyebrow perpetually raised as he looked about. Most curiously, to the other side of Gaius, sat the servant that Morgana had never been able to remember the name of. He had always done a good job of pretending to be furniture, and even now, everyone was having trouble remembering his presence. 

Morgana wanted to question what he was doing here, seriously doubting whether he had been invited to this strange little gathering, but she didn’t know how to get his attention. Damnit, what was his name? All she could remember about him was his strange love of jokes concerning brass. James? Jonathan? Gerald? 

“A hem ,” Gwaine cleared his throat. “It would be beneficial if we could get this meeting to order.” He was still wearing his cloak with the hood drawn over his head, as were many of the knights. In the darkness of the room and the secret nature of the meeting, Morgana thought that they made a stellar picture of a magical cult. Not that she would say that out loud. 

“You could take that off now,” Gwen said though, Gods bless her heart. “If it’s too cold, I could—“

Gwaine waved off her concerns. “Don’t fret, I can't take it off anyways. It’s necessary to maintain the dark atmosphere.” 

Leon barely kept himself from rolling his eyes, but Morgana had no such inhibitions. She let out an exaggerated groan, fixing the infiltrators of her chambers with her scariest glare. “Will you get on with it? Or I will seriously reconsider not enchanting each and every one of you to do things you will most definitely regret.” 

“Did you just threaten us with sorcery ?” Elyan blanched, at the same time as his sister, who said, “Aw, Morgana, I’m so proud of you.”

He turned on her immediately. “Gwen! What is there to be proud of?!”

The maid cocked her head innocently. “It wasn’t a death threat,” she said simply. “Baby steps.” 

“ Ideas, people! We need ideas!” Gwaine yelled, slapping a hand on the stone floor. “Arthur and Merlin aren’t just going to do this themselves.” 

“Why can’t they just talk to each other?” Morgana sighed bitterly, leaning back onto her fluffed pillows. 

Elyan snorted at that. “Says the person who raised a werewolf army and terrorized civilians in order to ask out my sister with a sad pickup line.” 

Morgana’s eyes glowed dangerously before Gwen placed a hand on her shoulder to placate her. “Okay, listen here--” the former ward began anyways. Her lover gave her a pointed look, making her shut up. 

“You’re being awfully bossy, Gwaine,” Leon mumbled under his breath. “It’s not like you’re bursting at the seams with ideas.” 

“Ex cuse me, but I have a plan,” the dark-haired knight huffed defensively. 

“Oh really,” Morgana drawled. “Care to enlighten us?” 

Gwaine hesitated. “I’m still working on it.” 

“You said you had a plan!” Elyan sighed, throwing his hands up in the air. 

“I said a plan, not a finished plan.” 

Lancelot face-palmed audibly and the others (save for the manservant whose name Morgana still couldn’t remember) let out frustrated sighs. It was going to be a long night. 

By dawn, everyone was thoroughly exhausted, but very little progress had been made. “They just need to fuck it out,” Percival sighed, getting 'the eyebrow' from Gaius and a scandalized look from Leon. Morgana was busy covering Gwen’s ears. “Sorry,” he mumbled afterwards. “I’ve been spending too much time with Gwaine.” 

The other man looked quite delighted to hear the admission, lighting up with a bright smile. “Alright, men!” He said finally. “...and women. Here’s what I've decided: we just do everything we brainstormed.”

“All of it?” Gaius said. “How in the world would that work?”

“Well,” Lancelot shrugged. “Since we can’t agree on any single idea, I see how that would make sense.” 

“But what if one of these plans screws up the others?” Leon asked, looking quite troubled at the prospect. “It might backfire entirely.” 

“That’s assuming that the two of them will even take half of these things seriously,” Elyan pointed out. “They’re pretty dense.” 

“They can’t be that dense,” Percival muttered under his breath. 

“Oh, no, sire, I assure you. They are plenty unaware and will remain that way unless given quite the large push.” 

Everyone turned to see the speaker, who to their surprise, was the manservant that nobody was quite sure what had been doing in the meeting to begin with. “George,” Gaius said, nodding at him as if noticing his presence for the first time. (So that's his name, Morgana realized.) “I would have to agree. As Merlin’s guardian, I have noticed nothing but stubborn obliviousness from either of them.” 

“Well, now that that’s settled, let’s get going!” Gwaine declared in his best knight-voice, standing up. “Wingman of the century, here I come!” 

“Wait just a moment,” Morgana said, launching up. “Who says you get to be the wingman of the century when all of us are helping you?” 

The knight raised an eyebrow at her, as if thinking she was just joking. “Now, come on M’Lady. I called his meeting, and my skills at wingmanning are leagues above the rest of you--” 

“You haven’t successfully wingmanned even once ,” Elyan interrupted bitterly. “You offered to talk to that girl at the tavern I was making eyes at and ended up going home with her instead.” 

“Not to mention you said you would talk to that Lady Dianne for me and instead told her my height was compensation for something else,” Percival huffed. 

“How was I supposed to know she would take it that way!” Gwaine sighed, throwing his hands up in the air. “I was talking about your dull personality, obviously --” 

“How dare you--”

“Boys, boys, boys,” Morgana cut in, waving her hands about. “Enough with the childish horseplay.”

“ Thank you, Morgana--” Gwaine began before he was cut off. 

“Not so fast,” the witch smirked. “I would like to compete with you for the title of Wingman of the Century.”

“Compete?!” 

“Makes sense,” Percival shrugged, barely suppressing a grin at getting Gwaine back. “After all, most titles like these are fought for.” 

“I’m in,” Elyan grinned. “There’s no way I’ll let you win, Gwaine.”

“All of you have another thing coming,” Morgana grinned. “There’s no way you can beat me.” 

Lancelot raised an eyebrow. “We’ll see about that.” 

“Is this really necessary--” Leon began, but nobody listened to him, of course. Mom friends are often ignored. 

“You all seem to be deluded by the innocence of your youth,” Gaius cut in. “There is simply no way that any of you have enough experience for this sort of job.” 

“If that was the case, why didn’t you do anything before now??” Gwaine yelled, outraged. 

“Maybe we should calm down a little,” Gwen suggested, but much like Leon, nobody paid her any attention. The two of them shared an exasperated look. 

“It’s on,” Morgana said again, hands on her hips. “Now, everyone get out of my lair. I won’t ask twice.” 

Gwaine glared at her. "Alright. First one to get Merlin and Arthur to admit their feelings to each other is indisputably the Wingman of the Century." He turned on his heel and walked out, nose in the air. Some of the knights looked like they were going to argue, but with the new lack of unity (and the fear of Morgana) they shuffled out, all heading their separate ways. 

Gwen sighed, looking at her lover. “Morgana, is this really necessary?” 

“Of course!” the witch laughed. “With this mission in hand, I cannot rest. Not until they have fucked loud enough for the entire palace to hear.” 

The maidservant turned a bright shade of red at that.

Chapter Text

Arthur was in an especially cranky mood; Merlin had been having a harder time than usual avoiding the various projectiles that had flown his way that morning. Honestly, who throws forks ? 

Keeping a wary eye on his king, Merlin had been pretending to polish boots at the foot of the bed all morning. If Arthur thought he was already busy, maybe he wouldn’t get any more chores. 

“Merlin, you’ve been on the same boot for fifteen minutes,” the blonde prat muttered from his desk, not even looking up as he made his accusation. 

“That isn’t true, sire ,” the brunet said, voice awfully sugar coated. “Wherever did you get that idea?”

“I can see you, you know.” 

Putting down the boot, Merlin cocked his head. “That’s no good. You should be concentrating on getting through those reports, not me.” He stood up, dusting off his breeches. “Maybe I should make myself scarce-- I couldn’t live with distracting the King from his duties, after all.”  

Arthur looked up, dropping the letter he had been reading on the desk. He looked utterly unimpressed with his manservant’s cheeky smile. “ Mer lin--” 

A loud, frantic knock rang out against the door, and Merlin darted off towards it, ducking as something (was that the royal seal ??) flew past his head. Grin still plastered wide across his face, Arthur yelling at him in the background, the servant swung the door open, expecting a messenger or a maid but instead, being met with a rather uncomfortable-looking Lancelot. 

“Lance,” Merlin said, doing a once-over. “What are you doing here?”

The knight cleared his throat. “Uh, just dropping by.” He sounded awfully like he was questioning his own words. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“ Mer lin!” 

Rolling his eyes, the manservant pushed the door open, ushering his friend inside. “Arthur, Lancelot’s here!” 

As the knight walked into the room, the King rose, looking worried. “Is something wrong?” 

“No, nothing at all!” the other man laughed, the words painfully dry. “I just… wanted to visit.” 

“Visit,” Arthur repeated incredulously. 

“Yes…?” Lancelot sighed. “Say, has anyone else been by this morning?”

“Anyone else?” Merlin repeated. “Like who?”

“Like…” the knight shifted uncomfortably. “The other knights…? Or Morgana and Gwen? Or Gaius?”

“Did something happen?” Arthur looked frustrated now as he approached his knight. “You look terrible. Did you sleep at all?”

“Not really,” Lancelot sighed. “Maybe I’m just delirious.” 

“Sure seems like it,” Merlin shook his head. “Come on, I’ll take you to Gaius. Maybe we can get something for you to sleep the day away.”

Arthur nodded. “Take the day off,” he ordered, as if his servant hadn’t given that permission before him. “Speaking of,” he paused. “Where are the others?” He turned to look out the window, a suspicious look creeping over his face. “I haven’t heard a peep from them all day. I would have thought I’d have at least received a tavern bill from Gwaine by now.” 

Lancelot laughed nervously. “Ah, they’ve been… busy.” He looked like he was visibly hesitating. He turned to Merlin suddenly, looking frenzied. “Say, maybe a trip to Gaius is necessary. Sorry for taking up your time, Arthur.” With that, he grabbed the younger man’s arm, steering him towards the door. 

“ Hey ,” Merlin groaned as he stumbled along with his astounding grace. “What’s this all about?” 

“Nothing,” the other man said, but he had always been a terrible liar. 

Rolling his eyes, the warlock shoved off Lancelot’s hands, stopping him in the middle of a mostly abandoned hall. “What is it?” he hissed. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened,” the knight insisted. 

“Have you been enchanted? You’re acting strange.” Merlin’s eyes reexamined Lancelot suspiciously. 

“No, it’s just that…” running a hand down his face, Lance sighed. “Enough is enough, Merlin.” 

“What?”

“You like Arthur, don’t you?”

The blood visibly drained from the warlock’s face. “What?”

“Don’t try to get out of this.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

Lancelot sighed. “Merlin--”

The manservant bristled. “Of course I like him, I wouldn’t be willing to give my life for him otherwise. Obviously. And plus, if I had said I didn’t like him, I’m pretty sure that’s treason. A little messed up that the crown requires you to like the royal family, but I guess that’s just how it is? I like Morgana too. But I’m also required to say that. But I really do. Now, Uther--” 

“ Merlin !” the knight grabbed his friend’s shoulders, shaking him until the rambling stopped. “I know you’ve been burying this for years but, I think it’s time you tell him.” 

“There’s nothing to tell,” the servant said bitterly, shrugging off Lance’s hands. “We should get you to Gaius, you’re clearly being delusional right now--”

“ You’re the one being delusional!” What had Lancelot done to deserve being surrounded by such dense people? “Even a blind man could see how much you love him.” 

“L-love?” Merlin let out a forced bark of laughter. “Please. As if. He’s a prat. I can’t stand him. Honestly, a prize would be in order for anyone that can. Most days, I can barely keep myself from pulling my own hair out--”

“Merlin, for the Gods’ sake. You've said it yourself-- you would die for him.” 

“I would die for you too.” 

Lancelot sighed. “But you didn’t follow me to the ends of the Earth. You didn’t give up everything , even who you are, for me. You did it for him .” 

Merlin’s expression hardened. “He’s the once the future King,” he said defensively. “I’m destined to protect him. And I will.” This isn’t working. Lancelot had to think of something else, and fast. Being straightforward apparently wasn’t the best way to go. If the others get to them, this might become a disaster. But Merlin kept talking. “And if… when… he marries, and has children, I will protect them too. It’s my duty.” 

The knight froze. “You really love him, don’t you?” his voice was quiet. Merlin opened his mouth to refute, but Lancelot shushed him. “Don’t say anything. I know you’re just going to deny it.” For once, the servant did as he was told, pursing his lips and averting his gaze. They stood in silence for a long moment. “You’re too stubborn.” 

The warlock cracked a lopsided grin. “I haven’t heard that one before.” 

Lancelot laughed, hooking his thumbs onto his belt. What do I do now? Apparently, the question answered itself as he heard loud footsteps and a brash voice from down the hall. 

“ Merlin!” Gwaine yelled, approaching at a terrifyingly fast pace. “Just the person I was looking for--” 

“Gwaine, Merlin was taking me to--” 

“I need your help with something Merlin, urgently . It can't wait." The other knight said, shoving past his competitor. “Lance here can take care of himself, can’t he?” Without waiting for an affirmation, he slipping an arm around the manservant’s shoulder, pulling him away. “Good, because we have things to do.” Lancelot took off after them, but Gwaine just looked over his shoulder with a wink. “Maybe you should go check up on Arthur,” he said instead. “He must be devastated to be left all alone.” 

“Are you sure you’re okay, Lance?” Merlin asked, dragging his feet to keep Gwaine from hauling him away. 

It’s too late, Lancelot decided. I’m not cut out for this. All I can do is damage control. “Fine,” he said back. “Don’t do anything stupid.” 

But by the time he said it, Gwaine and Merlin were already off down the hall at a breakneck pace. The knight sighed, running a hand through his hair. So talking to Merlin was a bust, he took a deep breath, starting in the other direction. My only other option is getting Arthur to stop dawdling and making lovey-dovey eyes before Gwaine does something dumb. With that thought in mind, he took off to the King’s chambers, newfound determination brewing.

Chapter Text

“Arthur,” Lancelot yelled, bursting into his chambers yet again. 

The King jumped before shooting a glare at his knight. “Has Merlin rubbed off on everyone? Not one of you remembers how to knock anymore--” 

“I need to talk to you, sire,” Lancelot interrupted. “It’s important.”

Arthur dropped the papers he’d been surveying on his desk and leaned back in his chair. “Fine,” he sighed, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I suppose I don’t get to do any work until you lot finally tell me what’s going on around here.” 

Pleased to be given an audience, Lance nodded, straightening up before trying to figure out what to say. It was then that he realized; his mind was totally blank. 

“Out with it, Lancelot. We don’t have all day.” 

“Uh…” the knight swallowed. “Merlin, he’s…” 

Panicked blue eyes met his. “Is he okay?” 

“Of course, he’s fine. Er, intact. For the time being.” Lancelot mumbled, regretting every word that came out of his mouth. 

Trying to cover up his apparent concern, the King leaned back and pursed his lips. “Get on with it then. I can’t spend hours listening to you stutter about my manservant.” 

“He’s…” the brunet sighed. This isn’t going well. “He’s in love with you, sire.” 

Oh, good lord. What have I done? 

There was a long silence. Arthur’s face was entirely blank, eyes searching Lancelot’s suspiciously. “Ha ha, that’s hilarious. Tell me, Lancelot, how much did Gwaine pay you to play this prank on me?” he said finally, an annoyed smile spreading across his face. “And how did he get you, the pious and the pure, to do it?” 

“...what?” 

The blonde looked down at his papers again, fishing a quill from its pot to begin signatures. “So this is why all of you have been hiding all day. Do tell, is this a prank on me or Merlin?” 

“It’s not a prank.” 

“Oh please.” The King waved away his words, not even looking up as he flipped to another page. “Were you hoping I would suddenly become enamored with him? Make him my consort? Perhaps confess my love in front of everyone so that he could reject me?” The words got exceedingly bitter, and that betrayed enough about Arthur’s feelings to confirm Lancelot’s suspicions. 

“You know I would never do that, Arthur.” The knight made sure to look him straight in the eye as he said those words as clear as he possibly could. Arthur needed to understand and believe him. “My words are nothing but the truth.”

“That’s preposterous,” the blonde continued, looking away to continue whatever he was writing. He was truly pulling out all the stops to make it seem like he didn’t care. 

“I'm one of his closest friends. Don’t you think you can believe me?” 

Arthur sighed again. Any more, and he would surely use up all the oxygen in the room. “...did he say this to you?” 

Lancelot hesitated. “Not in those exact words,” he conceded. The King resumed his work with a renewed vigor, quill ripping across the pages in wide arcs. “That’s not the point,” the brunet insisted. “He said he would protect you until the day he dies, and that he would do anything for you.” 

“He has said that to me before,” Arthur argued. “And he would give his life for quite literally anyone. That idiot has no self-preservation instincts at all. I’m beginning to think he lusts after death.” 

Running a hand through his hair, Lancelot sighed. “He has promised me some of the same things, I admit,” he began. “But he’s never been a master of words or emotions.” 

The blonde met his gaze for a moment before shying away, writing pace slowing down considerably. 

“His actions speak much louder, sire,” the knight fixed Arthur with his gaze. “And believe me-- he has done more for you that for anyone else. And he does more for you than anyone else ever will. He suffers in absolute silence if it’s for you.” Dropping his hand from his hair to the hilt of his sheathed sword, he gave a solemn nod. “He is too dense to tell you to your face about how he feels. But take it from me-- such devotion is surely of legends.” 

With that, Lancelot turned on his heel and left, closing the door quietly behind him. He didn’t see as Arthur froze, ink blotting into the page where he stopped. 

“Gwaine, this better be important,” Merlin grumbled as he got pulled along by his friend. 

“Believe me, it is,” the knight assured, cocky smile finding its way onto his face. “The tavern is looking mighty empty right about now, so we really need to spice it up.” 

The manservant’s eyes widened and he planted his feet in the ground, resisting. “The tavern,” he repeated in disbelief. “In the middle of the day.” 

“It’s a day off!” Gwaine laughed, eyes sparkling with mischief. Gods above, he’s probably already drunk. “It’d be a shame to waste it sober.” 

“A day off for you ,” Merlin stressed, still fighting to free his arm and failing. “I regret to inform you that I haven’t been knighted yet.” 

The older man sighed, stopping and staring at his friend with a disappointed expression on his face. “Come on, Merlin, please? Just for a little bit?” Those puppy-dog eyes are deadly. “It won’t hurt if it’s only for a little.” 

Freezing under the pressure, the warlock swayed in place, looking for a way out. They were standing on the steps of the castle, with servants and help of all sorts hurried about in a perpetual panic. Nobody paid the pair a second glance and Gwaine’s hold on his arm seemed tighter than ever. “I can’t drink while on the job,” Merlin mumbled finally. 

The knight raised an eyebrow at him, looking awfully amused. “Alright then. Whatever you say.”

“What do you mean?” Gwaine quieted, eyes zeroing in on something over Merlin’s shoulder. Suspicion rising, the servant turned and looked, to see nothing out of the ordinary. “What are you looking--” 

Arthur had been pacing around his room as if he was crazed. Lancelot was too optimistic-- it was possible that he had just read too far into something completely innocent. But then again, he was also nothing but awfully perceptive. If there was one thing the king could trust, it was Lance’s gut feeling. 

“For Heaven's sake,” the blonde mumbled, running frenzied hands through his hair. He might as well just forget he had ever heard anything-- no harm done. But the need to know kept him from considering that as an option. The hope bouncing around in his chest was difficult to ignore. 

It was as he was finally beginning to build up his confidence that he heard a resounding crash from outside his window. 

He bolted up, making his way to the corner of the room and throwing the curtains aside. There, down on the steps leading up the entrance of the palace, was an absolute mess. 

There was a servant sprawled across the foot of the stairs, holding buckets full of dirty bathwater, laying on his stomach and groaning as the water quickly spread across the ground. A spooked, unbroken horse that had been on its way to the stables was bucking and uncontrollable, throwing around the stableboys that tried to calm it. One of the kitchen girls, holding a tray of eggs, fell backwards in the chaos, leaving the produce to hit the ground in a series of vicious cracks. Other servants rushed to help, creating a pulsing crowd in the middle of the courtyard.

Normally, Arthur would have turned away by now. Accidents happened, after all. He would have inquired after anyone who retained injuries after the incident and made sure that if discipline was carried out on any of the servants, it wasn’t overly cruel. 

But this wasn’t a normal instance. 

In the corner of his eye, he saw a pair scurrying away from the masses. A grinning Gwaine, looking like he’d just gotten away with a heist, and a laughing Merlin, being tugged along. What is Merlin doing? He wondered, remembering that the servant had initially left to take Lancelot to Gaius. If Lancelot came back, and Merlin was with Gwaine… 

Arthur felt something run cold in his stomach. Turning on his heel, he rushed out of his chambers, determined to find where his idiot manservant had run off to now. 

“Where are we going?” Merlin asked as Gwaine pulled them into an alcove to escape the renewed rushing-about of the help. 

“To have some fun.” 

“I said where ,” the younger boy stressed with a sigh. “And I already told you I can’t get drunk during the day.” 

“Who said anything about drinking?” Gwaine’s grin was too close to a smirk for it to be comfortable.

“Uh… you .” Merlin retorted as the knight finally let go of his arm. He rubbed the spot where the handprint was no doubt bruised into his flesh. “And the few things that are on your list of ‘fun’ are mead, sex, and being a cheeky bastard.” 

“You’re not wrong.” 

Merlin stared at him, eyes narrowed. “I have a bad feeling about this.” Gwaine simply smiled wordlessly, opening the door in front of them and ushering his friend into the armory. It was dark, with the curtains drawn over the windows. With the day off, none of the knights had come in to train. “You’re not going to make me polish armor too, are you?” 

“What fun would that be?” the knight said, yanking open the curtains. For that, Merlin was grateful. He could do without getting impaled on a stray sword. Arthur would never let him hear the end of it. 

Gwaine continued on his trip around the room, even stopping to open one of the back windows, which remained closed enough of the time that the shuttered moved with a terrifyingly loud creak. There were a thousand questions on the tip of Merlin’s tongue, but somehow, he felt that asking them would not help him in the least. While he loved and trusted Gwaine, there was something about this whole situation that made him terribly apprehensive. 

Suddenly, the knight turned to him, making his way over. Merlin watched wordlessly as he shut the door behind them with a resounding slam . “What--”

“Merlin,” the older man said, the name coming out as something akin to a purr. 

“Gwaine?” the warlock squeaked. Is this an enchantment? Is he okay? Is Arthur okay? Oh dear lord-- 

“Tell me something, Merlin .” 

“What…?”

“Have you ever kissed a man?” 

Merlin blinked, trying to keep a bark of laughter from rising out of his chest. “If this if you testing your new flirting techniques, then you might want to try someone else,” he said through a smile. “I don’t think I’ll give you the reaction you’re looking for. Maybe Percival, or even Elyan--”

Somehow, in his rambling, Merlin hadn’t noticed how close Gwaine had gotten to him. His long hair was hanging down in locks shrouding his face, hooded eyes watching his every move. Suddenly, the servant felt like he was prey . 

“I don’t want anyone else, Merlin.” the knight was barely an inch from his face now. Merlin took a startled step back to feel the armory wall pressing up against him. He could distantly feel Gwaine’s calloused fingertips winding around one of his wrists, pinning it up near his head. 

“What are you doing?” the warlock mumbled, but he made no move to resist. Without missing a beat, Gwaine leaned in, connecting their lips. 

The knight kissed like he fought. It was rough, spontaneous, and fiery, It was completely reckless. But Merlin stood there, utterly frozen, making no move to kiss back. What am I doing? He wondered, eyes fluttering open. He hadn’t realized he’d closed them in the first place. 

Panic rising in his chest, Merlin pushed Gwaine away with his free hand, disconnecting their lips and leaving only warm breath in between them. “Gwaine,” he mumbled. “I can’t do this.” 

He was only met with a sardonic smirk. “Was that not good enough for you?”

“No, that’s not it--” Merlin began, only to see the knight’s smirk deepen.

“Because I’m a man, then?”

“I don’t care about that,” the warlock snapped in turn, patience wearing thin as more panic rose to the surface. “You’re my friend, and I don’t have feelings… like that… for you.” 

Gwaine stepped back, but still not enough for Merlin to escape. “Friends help friends out,” he said slowly. “This is just casual snogging for pent-up frustration. That’s all.”

Merlin still hesitated, looking torn. “I’m sorry, I just…” 

There was a loud creak from one of the windows Gwaine had opened earlier. Startled, Merlin turned to look, but the knight’s rough hand took hold of his jaw, man-handling it and turning it towards him instead. “Just imagine I’m Arthur, alright?” The throaty whisper sent a shiver down the warlock’s spine, along with a jolt of fear. Arthur. 

Arthur wasn’t sure what he had expected to find. For gods’ sake, he was the King! But here he was, stalking his manservant and his knight into the armory. The windows had been thrown open and he could hear conversation inside. Gwaine probably just needs Merlin to help him out with something, he reasoned, though the explanation didn’t quite stick. The knight had always hated the idea of nobility and having such an abundance of servants for things he could do himself. 

Plus, Merlin and Gwaine had always been rather good friends. Together, they were nothing but trouble. Maybe I should just take a peak at what they’re doing, he decided. Just to make sure that they aren’t doing anything that would threaten the future of Camelot. With the excuse of a security threat in mind, Arthur snuck around the back to a window that he hadn’t seen opened in years. The shutters had drifted nearly shut in the winds, only leaving a sliver in between to spy through. 

Sighing at what his life had come to, the King ducked out of sight, grappling for grip on the shutter and yanking it open in just the slightest. He winced when it creaked, but from the lack of acknowledgement from either of those inside, he assumed it had gone unnoticed. 

Curiosity burning, he leaned to look through the shutters, breath catching painfully in his throat. 

There, against the armory wall, Gwaine stood, having backed Merlin against it. One hand was curled around the younger man’s face, lips uncomfortably close as he whispered something. Arthur saw Merlin’s breath hitch, blood rising to his face, and before he could even process what he was seeing, Gwaine lunged like he was on the battlefield, one hand puling Merlin’s leg up and finding grip dangerously high on his thigh, the other carding through the hair at the nape of the servant’s neck and pulling his head back at a precarious angle. 

No. It was like watching a man die-- it was painful, time slowed down, and Arthur wanted oh-so-desperately to look away and forget he had ever seen this, but it was impossible. He was glued in place, even his breath stolen from him. 

He watched as Gwaine took another step forward, knocking Merlin’s head loudly against the wall. The younger boy let out a sound of protest at that, but it was muffled against the knight’s lips. Unbelievable. Arthur could feel his heart physically sinking, even as he told himself that he didn’t care. They can snog whenever they want, he thought, trying to stop himself from shaking. Merlin can do whatever he wants. 

Not even believing his own hollow words, the King turned away, going back to his chambers as quickly as his feet could carry him. 

Merlin could feel the heat of his friend as he was boxed in against the wall, strong arms holding his up. In his mind’s eye, it was the broad hands of Arthur, and not those of Gwaine. With his eyes shut, he could almost imagine it, giving a realistic touch to a passing fantasy. The lips on his were Arthur’s, the quiet whispers and affirmations and probing touch were Arthur’s, the long, tangled hair tickling his cheek was Arthur’s--

“Gwaine,” the warlock suddenly pushed away, panting from the lack of break and avoiding the knight’s gaze. “I can’t do this. I’m sorry. I tried.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Gwaine said with a cheeky grin, suddenly jovial and much less set on ravishing Merlin than before. “I wasn’t feeling it too much either.” 

The servant managed a shaky smile as he tried to figure out whether to take the words as a compliment or an insult. “That’s a relief.” 

“Let’s get you back to the Princess,” the knight said, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Her Highness is probably throwing a hissy fit about you being missing right about now.” 

Merlin eyed Gwaine skeptically, wondering what led to this sudden change in attitude, but too shaken to say anything else. He just nodded, running his hands through his hair to fix it before turning to the knight. “Alright. Let’s go.”

Chapter Text

When Merlin returned to Arthur’s quarters, ditching Gwaine and his complaints in the halls of the castle, the door was shut. There wasn’t any noise to be heard from the inside. He might’ve left already, the warlock thought, hesitating as he reached for the doorknob. I don’t want to talk to him now. 

Even now, he could vividly remember Gwaine's warm breath on his lips. “Just pretend I’m Arthur,” . The words had been overly sultry, stirring something in Merlin’s stomach. How did Gwaine know?   It was a question that Merlin hadn’t dared ask, but it danced about his mind even now, taunting him.

Arthur probably doesn’t need me right now. He would have been screaming my name like a banshee if he did, Merlin told himself, raising his palms to his face to find his cheeks overly warm. I can’t face him now. Becoming more reassured in his decision, the servant turned away, deciding to make his way to Gaius’s rooms as slowly as possible, feeling awkward all the while. 

That evening, Merlin was late as always with Arthur’s dinner. Still deliberately avoiding eye contact, he set out the array of food, miraculously only sloshing wine onto himself once as he did so. I would say that’s an accomplishment. 

Arthur had nothing to say about any of this-- his typical lateness, the wine, his slouched posture, his pointed avoidance of meeting eyes-- nothing. 

“Are you okay, Arthur?” 

The blonde’s eyes snapped up, looking rather surprised at being addressed. “I’m fine,” he snapped finally, fiddling with his fork in a very not-princely manner. 

“You don’t sound fine,” Merlin mumbled, looking his friend up and down. “Did something happen? Or are you just being a prat like usual?”

“I didn’t know your ears were big enough to detect my emotions, Merlin,” the King retorted, leaning back in his chair, away from the heaped delicacies that his servant could barely tear his eyes off of. 

The quip was supposed to be insulting, but Merlin had to stop himself from smiling. If he can joke around, then he should be fine, he decided. “I would ask if you would like more wine, but you’re already looking quite like a depressed drunk, sire.” 

“I don’t want more anyways,” Arthur said, expression getting dangerously close to sulking. “You’re dismissed for tonight.” 

Surprised, the warlock froze. “What, you can undress yourself now?” He planted a hand on his hip, a wide grin splitting across his face. “I believe a congratulations is in order, then!” 

“Oh, shut up.” Arthur got up, pushing away a nearly full plate and turning away. “Don’t you have places to be?” 

“You seem quite eager for me to leave.” Usually Merlin would have been long by now, but there was an uneasy tension in the air that kept him from leaving. 

“Why, I thought you would be rushing to warm Gwaine’s bed right about now.” 

“What.” 

There was a long silence. Arthur was still pointedly avoiding Merlin’s gaze, unlacing his own shirt with slow and awkward fingers. The brunet, in question, was staring unblinkingly at the king, blood rushing to his face as he remembered his little tryst in the armory that morning. Surely… Arthur hasn’t heard about that…? 

Swallowing, Merlin managed a dry laugh. “Gwaine, huh? As if he’d want me.”

“ As if ,” the blonde repeated, the words bitter and annoyed. “So I take it he’s never shown interest in you?” 

The warlock swallowed, guilt crawling up his throat. I could just lie . “Not seriously,” he conceded finally. “He’s always joking around.” 

“I see,” the King’s voice was strangely quiet. Merlin crept towards him, taking a pair of particularly nasty laces from his hands and undoing them with considerable ease. “So you’ve never been interested in him?” 

“Where did you ever get that idea?” the brunet mumbled. “Gwaine just puts the moves on anything with a pulse.” 

“Is that so.” Arthur still refused to meet his eyes, but made his way to the bed. 

“Anything else?” 

“No. You’re dismissed.” The blonde turned away then, broad shoulder peaking out from under the thick covers and making Merlin’s breath hitch. That’s unfair. Still trying to calm his racing heart, the manservant ducked out into the hall, wondering if anyone would miss Gwaine if he murdered him. 

Elyan spit out his mead. “You did what?” Leon was looking at Gwaine, a horrified expression plastered across his face, while Percival rolled his eyes, as if saying ‘I told you so’. 

“You can’t be serious,” Lancelot sighed, covering his face. “I had the most painful conversation with Arthur, and you undo it all like this?”

“Did you seriously snog Merlin with Arthur watching?” Leon asked, voice wavering as if wishing he had never asked. “How in heaven’s name did it occur to you as wingmanning ?”

Percival shook his head. “Admit it, Gwaine, you just wanted to get your grubby little hands all over Merlin.” 

“That’s just jealous bullshit right there,” Gwaine sputtered indignantly. “I would never .” 

“Then what the hell were you trying to do?!” 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Gwaine shrugged. “Make Arthur jealous. Arthur will get angry with all of his pent-up sexual frustration. Angry, sex-deprived Arthur will jump Merlin. Angry, sex-deprived Arthur and surprised, pining-for-the-past-decade Merlin will fuck out their problems. Angry, sex-deprived Arthur will no longer be angry or sex-deprived, suprised, pining-for-the-last-decade Merlin will no longer be surprised or pining, not-angry, no-longer sex-deprived Arthur and no-longer surprised, no-longer pining Merlin will realize what idiots they have been and thank me and appreciate me for the rest of my days.” The knight slammed his tankard of mead on the table, looking mighty proud of himself. “Perhaps they’ll name their children after me. Though a village or wing of the castle would also be accepted--”

“He’s a lost cause,” Elyan sighed as Lancelot moved to bang his head against the table. That’s it. We’re screwed.

The next day, Arthur woke up in a fairly good mood. That is, in a relatively good mood. After all, he only called Merlin an idiot a total of seventeen times before breakfast, and only a candlestick, a boot, and a glove had come hurtling in the warlock’s direction in the past two hours. 

Arthur had even smiled . Not the “bitch you didn’t just do that” smile, not the “i’m about to smack you and put you in the stocks and then smile for real because i’m not-so-secretly a sadist”, and not even his “you better pray because you’re about to feel the whole wrath of the Pendragons” smile. Yes, Merlin kept a running catalog of the exact threat each smile conveyed. After all, it was useful in figuring out whether running or pleading for mercy was a better course of action. 

All things considered, the prince was practically throwing up rainbows. 

That is, until it was time for training. Usually, beating people up helped Arthur’s mood, but today, there was a certain knight that was ruining his day, and Merlin’s by proxy. “Ay, Merlin, do you want to get drinks later?” Gwaine asked, a lazy smile painting across his face. 

“You know I’m a lightweight,” the manservant hissed, lugging a shield into place where the knights could grab them when Arthur switched over to dueling instead of drills. “And I have work tomorrow anyways.” 

“Hmm,” the knight mumbled in turn, tapping his lip. “Well, I have some fun in mind that wouldn’t give you a hangover,” he drawled instead. 

“Oh, good,” Merlin rolled his eyes. “We have the same train of thought. What I would give to sleep for a solid eight hours! True fun right there.” 

Before Gwaine could continue his (no doubt) risque train of thought, the warlock spotted Arthur looking his way, jaw set. Angry. He looks angry. Merlin sighed. Of course, his mood was too good to be true. 

Arthur motioned for the knights to halt the warm-ups and take a water break. Grabbing a waterskin, Merlin darted over, weaving through broad shoulders and clinking chainmail to offer it to the vexed King.  There was no eye contact. Arthur just grabbed the waterskin from Merlin’s hand and took a quick swig before shoving it back into his hands, the water spilling and sloshing over the servant’s tunic. “Hey,” Merlin sighed, patting it down. “A thank you would be nice.” 

“Don’t test me, Merlin.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it, sire.” The words came with an eyeroll. “Would you like anything else, M’Lord ? Perhaps a foot massage, or maybe even freshly picked--” 

Arthur fixed Merlin with a hard glare, cuffing him over the back of the head. “Get off the field, idiot, or you're going to be our brand new bulls-eye for target practice.” 

“Fine, fine! Whatever, you giant prat!” throwing his hands up, the brunet scurried off the field, hiding a grin when he heard the King throwing insults at his back. What a big baby . 

As Merlin ran off, Leon sidled up beside Arthur, looking quite tortured. “You alright?” Arthur asked, studying the other man’s face. “You look like you bit a lemon.” 

“I’m fine,” Leon reassured, before turning to look his King in the eye. “But I do have something to say.” 

“...alright...?” Arthur watched as the knight scrambled for words. 

“Well,” Leon began. “It’s just that…” More stuttering. Fidgeting. Hands tangling in curls. 

A long, awkward moment passed as more knights began to come up back onto the training field. Arthur raised a questioning eyebrow, tapping his foot. “Go ahead.” 

“Bullying isn’t flirting, Arthur, okay?!” 

“ Ex cuse me? What?!” 

Leon was covering his face with his hands in frustration, groaning. “Everyone can see it, Arthur!” 

“See what? ” 

“You’re head over heels for Merlin, Arthur!” 

The blonde slapped a hand over his friend’s mouth, looking over his shoulder to see that nobody had come within earshot. Fixing Leon with a glare, he dragged him further away. “No I’m not! Where the hell are you getting that idea from? Did Lancelot say something??” 

Leon looked guiltily over at Lance, who was trying his hardest to look uninterested while watching the pair out of the corner of his eye. “No, he didn’t.” He wrung his hands instead, meeting Arthur’s eyes. “It’s just obvious, sire. And you seem to think that bullying Merlin is flirting. But it’s not.” 

“I’m not bullying him!” Arthur protested. “And it’s not obvious! There’s nothing to be obvious about! I’m like, the least obvious person!” 

Leon felt a sudden surge of pity and he laid a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I understand you’re in denial,” he said finally. “But please. For everyone's good. Please stop acting like a child with a crush. Sire.” 

“I’m not acting like a child, ” Arthur mumbled, covering his face with a hand. “And there is no crush . Back to practice, Leon, and not a word of this to anyone.” 

Sighing, the knight nodded and turned away, making his way back to the others. Lancelot gave him a questioning look, but Leon just shrugged noncommittally. He had no idea if he had gotten through to Arthur at all, or if he had just been written off. Curious, he looked over his shoulder again, to see Arthur still frozen where he had been standing. Leon followed the King’s gaze to see where it was fixed. 

Oh good lord, help us all. 

Gwaine was standing dangerously close to Merlin, leaning on a fence post and practicing his best flirty smile. His hand darted out, tugging at the younger boy's neckerchief as Merlin was flushed red, batting the probing fingers away, trying to do his work while simultaneously keeping his friend’s whims at bay. 

“He’s still on that,” Elyan muttered, walking up beside Leon. 

“Arthur’s going to murder him,” Percival offered unhelpfully, sounding quite excited at the prospect. 

“He’s going to undo everything I just did,” Leon moaned, hanging his head. 

“Welcome to the party,” Lancelot sighed. 

“Gwaine,” Arthur yelled, walking scarily fast across the expanse of the field. “We’re doing duels. Fight me.” His voice was scarily low. 

Gwaine looked up at the issued challenge, giving his King a cheeky grin. “Of course, princess.” He straightened up, reaching over to muss up Merlin’s hair one last time before turning away. “Your pick of weapon, like always.”

“Sword.” 

“So be it.” 

The other knights had finished their duels quite long ago. As the minutes dragged on, Arthur and Gwaine's fight just got worse. “He usually doesn’t let anyone last for this long,” Elyan said suspiciously, arms crossed. 

“He’s doing it on purpose,” Leon replied. “Every time Gwaine gets tired it looks like he’s backing off.” 

“Why would he do that?” Percival asked. 

“Simple,” Lancelot said. “He wants to take his own sweet time beating him up.” 

“He wants to beat up Gwaine?” Merlin laughed. “I mean, I understand, but, why now of all times? What did he do?” 

“More like what hasn’t he done,” Percival grumbled. 

The other knights went on discussing Arthur’s footwork and Gwaine’s parries when Leon looked over at Merlin, who seemed much quiet than usual. It was nearly impossible to shut him up most of the time, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that Merlin was almost always quiet during training. No. Not during training, just whenever Arthur’s dueling. At the new revelation, the knight watched Merlin with renewed concentration, watching as bright blue eyes followed Arthur’s every move. The servant was nearly glowing with thinly concealed devotion and pride. Can he be anymore obvious?

Sidestepping a wildly gesticulating Elyan, Leon moved to stand at Merlin’s side, clearly his throat awkwardly. “Leon,” Merlin smiled. “Are you alright? You’re making a face like you ate Arthur’s cooking.”

Why does everyone think I look so pained? “ Arthur’s cooking?” the knight blanched. “When would he ever cook?” But another thought flitted around in his head. They're perfect for each other, cheeky bastards. 

“Just be glad that he doesn’t do it often,” the servant laughed. “It’s most definitely a safety hazard.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Merlin nodded, but then fell silent again, watching Arthur fixedly. Leon almost felt bad about talking when the brunet was so clearly absorbed. It felt like he was intruding on something personal. This is for his own good. For their own good. For the good of Camelot, for heaven’s sake. “Say, Merlin…” 

“Hmm?” 

“I just wanted to say that…” Once again, he was at a loss for words. How exactly does one explain something like this? “Merlin, it’s just that… repression of your feelings isn’t good for you.” 

“Huh?” 

“Bottling things up is unhealthy,” Leon tried instead. “Maybe just let it all out sometime?” 

Merlin’s eyebrow was raised at a height that led Leon to believe that the training Gaius always went on about giving his “son” was eyebrow intimidation, not physician's work. “Thanks for the advice,” the brunet bit out. “But what is this about?” 

“Arthur.” Leon sighed. “It’s about Arthur. And the way you two dance around each other.” 

“ What? ” the servant’s jaw dropped. “Have you and Lancelot been planning something?”

“No, we’re not-- we’re not working together or anything--” the knight stuttered, which wasn’t technically a lie. “I’m just worried about you two.”

The last few words went unheard, overshadowed by a loud screech of swords as Gwaine fell on his back, Arthur standing over him and panting and sweating in victory before dropping to his knees himself. A cheer went up from the knights as some rushed over to chatter excitedly, congratulating Arthur. 

“That’s my cue,” Merlin said hurriedly, grabbing a pile of fluffy towels and a full waterskin, leaving Leon behind. “Good talk, but there’s nothing to worry about.” 

“Yes there is…” the knight mumbled, but Merlin was already long gone. Sighing, Leon slumped onto the bench behind him, resting his head in his hands. This is all going to go to hell.

Chapter Text

Arthur’s mood soured considerably after training. He spent the day pacing (more like limping) about and sulking, barely getting through the pile of papers he had to get ready for the council meeting the next day. Merlin quietly peaked over the King’s shoulder, planning to write out his speech later. 

“You’re excused for now, Merlin.” Arthur grumbled under his breath. 

Not wanting to interact further with the blonde’s wrath, Merlin grinned and left without giving Arthur a chance to change his mind. 

“Gaius,” the warlock groaned, throwing the door of his mentor’s rooms open brashly as he came in. “Arthur’s in a mood again!”

“I see.” The physician didn’t even look up, instead going on mixing some potion that he was intently focused on.

“He’s so grumpy ,” Merlin plopped into a chair in front of Gaius. “Groaning and mumbling and limping around like he got his foot stuck in a bear trap.” 

“Hmmm.”

“And he just loves getting beat up, I bet. Today, he was dueling Gwaine— and clearly winning— but dragged out the fight for the better part of an hour!” The warlock threw his hands up in disbelief. “Why would you do that? Is he some kind of masochist?”

“Interesting,” Gaius muttered under his breath, flipping through pages of flowy cursive notes. 

“Or maybe, he was just trying to show off his manly man manliness to the rest of us,” the brunet snorted. “ Look at me! I’m an alpha male! I punch things and break stuff and yell for not goddamn reason!” His imitation of Arthur’s voice was rather poor, even Merlin had to admit. 

“I see.”

Merlin looked up to see his mentor, waiting to be reprimanded for making fun of Arthur. But there was nothing. Not a single change in expression, not a disapproving eyebrow raise, nothing. “Are you even listening?”

“Hmm.”

“And then you add the crickets to the pot of strawberry juice for the best crunchy taste.” 

“Interesting.”

“GAIUS!” 

“ Merlin! You don’t have to yell!” The physician finally looked up, the dreaded eyebrow making a frightening appearance. “I may be old but I am not deaf yet.”

“Seems to me that you might be,” the warlock said under his breath. “You weren’t listening to a word I was saying.”

“Of course I was,” Gaius said defensively. “I always do.”

“Oh really,” Merlin raised an eyebrow in turn, but it seemed rather pathetic compared to the older man’s, which was clearly the Final Boss Eyebrow. “If that’s how it is, then what was I just talking about?”

Gaius looked his ward in the eye and unwaveringly gave his answer. “Arthur.”

Crossing his arms, the Merlin squinted suspiciously. “What about that delicious cricket juice recipe then?”

“Good lord, the cricket what? ”

“So you weren’t listening!”

Sighing, Gaius went back to his potions. “Alright, perhaps my attention was elsewhere. But for good reason. I barely noticed that you walked in until much later.” He held up a little bottle of nearly-clear liquid that was starting to solidify into a white balm. “This required my utmost attention.”

“How did you know I was talking about Arthur then?” Merlin asked, ignoring the balm.

“All these questions !” The physician sighed, putting the glass vial down on the table and turning away to wipe down his hands and pull out different sets of books. “It doesn’t take an investigation or even listening for me to know you’re talking about Arthur,” he said finally, flipping to a page in a bright leather-bound volume. “In fact, Arthur is practically all you talk about.”

“No he’s not,” the warlock protested, doing his best to keep his face from warming up. “And I spend the whole day with him anyways. It’s not like I get exposure to a whole lot of different conversation topics anyways.” He got up, slipping past Gaius to grab the list of deliveries that the physician kept tacked to the wall. “I’m going to go take care of these.”

“Go ahead,” Gaius said, pulling out a bottle of what looked like crushed mushrooms. “Be sure to come back and meet me before you take Arthur his meal. I have something for you.”

“Alright,” Merlin said, but he pointedly didn’t make eye contact. 

Gaius was tempted to point out the redness at the top of his ward’s ears, but he supposed it was obvious enough without his brilliant observation. He watched as Merlin gathered the deliveries and left, trying to keep from smiling. Those children think they have something on me, he thought, amused. They truly won’t know what’s coming at them. 

“Is this the balm you were making earlier?” Merlin asked, tilting the glass bottle in his fingers so that the light filtered through.

“Yes,” Gaius said, turned away and shuffling through a stack of papers in the back of the room. “It’s for Arthur.” 

“Arthur?” 

“You said he was sore and limping about, didn’t you?” the physician replied. “Apply it to all the areas that are aching or bruised. You must massage it in.” 

“I’ll tell him that,” Merlin said, tucking the bottle into his belt and turning to leave. 

“No,” the physician cut in, turning around the looking his ward in the eye. “I said you must massage it in.” 

“Me?” the brunet looked confused. “Why me?” 

“Arthur’s only going to hurt himself more if he tries,” Gaius replied. “The angles and the pressure would add to his aches, not rid him of them. Besides, you have experience in this sort of thing. My feet have been doing so much better since you have arrived.” 

“Oh, now I have to be his royal masseur too? I should start listing my titles, they’d come out longer than Arthur’s.” Gaius fixed him with a disappointed look and Merlin sighed, dropping the question he had been about to ask-- can I count Leader of the Druids as one of my titles? Am I their leader? . He settled instead with a sour frown as he made his way into the hall. “Fine! But don’t expect me to be happy about it.” 

“Oh, I would never .” 

“Seems you have a death wish, Gwaine,” Percival laughed, clapping the shorter knight on the back and causing him to sink into his pillows further.

“Hey, I’m dyin’ here,” Gwaine groaned in turn, laying unmoving on his bunk. His and Percival’s chambers were crowded with the other knights, all having somehow made room for themselves. 

“I’ve never seen a man other than Merlin want to die so badly,” Elyan piped up.

“Honestly, what made you think that was a good idea?” Lancelot sighed, sitting at the end of Percival’s bed. 

“You undid everything I tried to do!” Leon said bitterly, looking even more annoyed than his words let on. “Did you really think making Arthur jealous would work?” 

A mumble came from the pillow covering Gwaine’s face, sounding suspiciously like a “Yes.”

“Just give it up,” Percival smiled cheekily. “Stop getting in the way and let the real wingmen do their jobs.” 

“Percival--” 

“How dare you!” Gwaine yelled, sitting up before wincing and falling back down. “ I am the ultimate wingman!” 

“Or so you say,” Percival continued, pushing away Lancelot’s hands as he tried to shut the giant up. 

“None of you have faith in my methods!” Gwaine muttered indignantly. “I’ll show you, it’ll be me that outdoes all of you!” 

“We’ll see about that,” Percival said dramatically, watching as Gwaine slumped out of exhaustion again, passing out before he could continue his weak rant. 

The room was silent for a moment before Lancelot turned to a much too pleased-looking Percival. “You’re egging him on aren’t you? That was on purpose.” 

Percival shrugged non-committedly. “Perhaps,” he drawled out. 

“You’re going to make Arthur kill him!” Leon sputtered. 

“Oh, please,” Elyan sighed. “If we could be rid of Gwaine that easily, I would have killed him myself.” 

Percival nodded seriously. “Damn right. If Arthur really killed Gwaine, the little bastard would only come back to haunt us. He would phase through walls and Arthur would truly have no way of keeping him away from his precious baby Merlin.” 

Leon threw the door open in a fit of misery and disbelief, walking out into the hall and refusing to look back. "Is he alright?” Elyan asked, cautiously approaching the open door. 

“I think he’s just contemplating his life choices,” Lancelot shrugged. “I do that a lot.” 

“I would imagine.” 

“Morgana?” Gwen called out as she mended one of her lover’s old dresses. 

“Hmm?”

“You were so excited about the whole deal of getting Merlin and Arthur together,” the maid mused. “Why are you being so complacent about it now?” 

Morgana just smiled, getting up and making her way over to the brunette. “I’m not being complacent, dear.” She pulled the dress and needle from Gwen’s grip, leaning over her chair. “I’m simply waiting for the perfect moment. Let the idiots fail first before I make my killer move.” 

“I see,” Gwen mumbled, eyes darting to the taller woman’s lips. 

“Now, enough about them,” the witch said, caressing a bronze cheek. “Instead of talking about those two nitwits getting it on, why don’t we try it for ourselves?”

“Sire?” Merlin let himself into the room, carrying a precariously stacked tray of food that Arthur was no doubt going to waste. “Your dinner.” 

“I’m not hungry,” Came Arthur’s voice from the corner of the room. 

The manservant turned to set down the meal on the table before looking back at the King, who was slumped against the window, looking awfully tired and beat up. Merlin could feel the fondness for the man in front of him creeping up into his throat. “Don’t you look a mess,” he said, because he didn’t know what else he could say. “Was it really necessary for you to get beat up by Gwaine?” 

“I didn’t get beat up ,” Arthur grumbled, but his tone carried a shadow of its usual indignation and edge. “I beat him . I didn’t know you that you had to struggle to remember something from a few hours ago.” 

“You might have beat him, but you got beat in the process as well.” Merlin planted his hands on his hips. “You can’t sulk forever. You have to eat something .” 

“I’m not sulking ,” the blonde said, still looking stubbornly away. “I will bathe.” 

“Now?! You’re eating , not bathing.” 

“That was an order, Merlin.” Rolling his eyes, the warlock stomped out of the chambers, distantly worried about Arthur’s strange behavior. 

The trips to bring the water up to Arthur’s chambers were much smoother than usual. The halls were blessedly uncrowded, so there was nobody to stare at him when he lugged nearly six buckets at a time with very little exertion and very golden eyes.

On the other hand, the bath itself was quite awkward. Arthur kept on staring off pointedly into the distance as Merlin went about. The room was dead silent and painfully so. It was as Merlin was helping Arthur dress again that he remembered the balm tucked against his belt. Fingers stilling on the nightshirt that he had been holding, he looked at the blonde, wondering how exactly to breach the topic. 

“Stop staring, Merlin.” 

“I’m not--” he bit his tongue. “Are you… are you still sore, Arthur?” 

The King just scoffed, as if that was a ridiculous question. “I know you’re no warrior, Merlin, but I thought even you would know that soreness doesn’t just magically disappear within hours.”

Ignoring the weak jab, Merlin pulled the bottle from his belt. “Gaius-- Gaius gave me this for your muscles.” 

“Alright,” Arthur said, reaching for it.

“But--” there was something nervous curdling in Merlin’s stomach.  “He said that I have to rub it in.” 

“ You have to?”

“He insisted. Something about you hurting yourself more. And my masseur skills. Well, he didn’t really say that-- well, actually, not that part. He said the other parts--” 

“Are you telling me that you might actually be good at something?” the blonde asked, eyebrows raised. “In that case, go ahead.” 

“What?” 

“Go ahead. Impress me.” Arthur moved to sit back on his bed. He was only wearing his smalls, leaning back so that his form was entirely golden and glistening in the dim light. 

Merlin swallowed. “Of course.” Don’t panic, he thought, but he was definitely panicking. “Where should I start, sire? ”

Arthur’s lips quirked up into a soft smile. “Hmm, my calves are aching terribly,” he said, watching as his servant sighed and knelt by the side of the bed to get within reach. “I told you that I would teach you to walk on your knees.” 

From the ground, Merlin felt he was doing a terrible job of keeping himself in check. He had been trying to distract himself by uncorking the bottle and lathering the tinted balm onto his hands, but he could feel his cheeks heating up. I told you that I would teach you to walk on your knees. The words were said with a teasing intent, but the brunet couldn’t help but let his mind wander other places. 

Pausing for an unnecessarily long moment, the warlock set to work, working his fingers into the thick cords of muscle running down Arthur’s right leg. The sheer strength encased in that prone leg sent something akin to a shiver running down Merlin’s spine. 

Above him, the blonde made some noise of approval. “Not bad.” 

With renewed vigor, Merlin took to kneading the balm into the bruised skin on the back of Arthur’s ankle, beginning to feel a cold burn as the balm took effect. He went back for more balm before moving onto the other leg, going out of his way to massage Arthur’s feet as well, stretching and popping his joints as he did so. 

“I think we may have found something you’re good at,” Arthur mumbled, voice delightfully husky. Against his better judgement, Merlin risked a look upwards, only to have his breath taken away. Above him, the blonde had taken to leaning back against the mattress, held up by his elbows. With his eyes half-lidded and the candlelight illuminating him from behind, he looked so ethereal, so undeniably perfect that Merlin felt his mouth water. 

“Does this mean George won’t be replacing me again?” the warlock asked just to distract himself, wincing when his voice cracked. 

For a long moment, Arthur didn’t say anything, instead just holding tenuous eye contact with an expression that Merlin couldn’t read. Finally, he shook his head in the slightest. “Come on, get my back.” 

“Right,” the brunet mumbled, getting up and realizing that his own knees were aching from all the time spent kneeling on the floor. In that strange reverie, he had barely noticed. Barely cared. 

“Get on the bed,” Arthur commanded as he pulled his legs up onto the mattress and turned onto his front, head propped up on a pillow. 

Merlin obeyed wordlessly, trying his hardest to swallow and still his hands again. You absolute idiot, he berated himself. This was a bad idea, you shouldn’t have told him what Gaius said, you should’ve-- 

“I don’t have all night, Merlin,” the king mumbled into his pillow. 

A thousand excuses scrambled for purchase in the brunet’s mind. I have to go do something. Right now. Did you hear that? Sounds like it came from outside, maybe I should go check and never come back. Is that a bird out there? Looks like a messenger bird, perhaps I should just throw myself out the window to chase it--

“ Mer lin.”

Slathering another generous helping of the balm onto his hands, Merlin pressing his palms to Arthur’s shoulders. His skin was so warm against the cold burn of the balm, so warm that the warlock could barely bring himself to move. Don’t be so obvious, you stupid, idiotic, witless-- cutting off his own mental breakdown, Merlin lost himself in the repetitive motions of pressing his thumbs to into Arthur’s spine, digging his fingertips into the muscle and pressing where he could feel the knots and see the beginnings of nasty purple bruises. 

It was captivating. Arthur’s shoulders were so broad and manly, everything that Merlin had always resented never being as a child. There was perfection in every muscle, every bone, all held together with strength and battle scars worn with pride. How am I supposed to ever look at him again without thinking about this? Merlin wondered, but decided to take advantage of the moment. 

If he closed his eyes, he could imagine that Arthur was above him, that Merlin was running his hands down the sides of the King’s back just like this, feeling the flexing muscles rippling under his fingers, all golden and beautiful.  He could just imagine it, frenzied kisses with teeth knocking against each other, warm breath crowding the area between their faces, calloused hands wrapped around Merlin’s waist, strong hips slotted against his--

A soft leveled inhale snapped Merlin out of his stupor.

His ministrations stilled to look down at Arthur, whose eyes were firmly closed. He had seen the blonde sleeping enough times over the years to see that he had fallen asleep.  I should leave, the warlock decided, making the difficult decision to pull his hands off of Arthur’s bare back, something screaming out in his heart as he did so. He looked over at the candle, which was burning at the third mark. How long have I been here?! From the yawn he was now stifling, it seemed to have been quite a while. 

Pushing himself off of the plush mattress, he snuffed out the candle, throwing the room into darkness save for the moonlight shining stubbornly through the window. Pulling a thick blanket over Arthur’s back, Merlin made to leave, but something stopped him.  I shouldn’t be doing this, he thought, but when had that ever stopped him? Heart in his throat, the warlock knelt by the side of the bed again to see Arthur’s face. In the darkness and in the shroud of sleep, he looked so much more innocent, so much less worried. The weight of Camelot seemed to have been lifted off of him. Merlin wasn’t looking upon the King-- he was looking upon Arthur. Just Arthur. 

There was a lock of blonde hair that fell across Arthur’s face. Wiping his hand on his tunic for good measure (for Arthur was sure to kill him if he got balm in his hair) Merlin reached to brush it away before drawing back like he had been burned. It was so impossibly soft. Surely, if he let himself touch it again, even if for a moment, he wouldn’t never be able to pull himself away. 

Cursing himself and his destiny and his heart, the brunet slumped against Arthur’s nightstand, watching his sleeping face. This is just a little creepy, he thought, but dismissed the idea quickly. I just need to make sure he’s actually fallen asleep, he decided. What if he wakes and is still sore? 

The excuse was utter bullshit, but Merlin didn’t really care. Just a little longer, he decided. Only for a little bit, and then I’ll leave. “Little bit” quickly became long minutes, which nearly became an hour before he passed out entirely, head lolling to the side, Arthur haunting him even in his dreams. 

Chapter Text

The sun was painfully bright against the backs of Merlin’s eyelids. It’s already light out? The warlock bolted awake in a panic, wincing when something hard smacked the side of his head in his frenzy.  What on Earth…? 

Clean tile floors (okay, more-or-less clean), hulking wooden furniture, a hearth, a massive bed— I’m in Arthur’s chambers. 

The night before came rushing back to Merlin at once. There was the balm, the massage, Arthur’s annoyingly perfect hair, sitting and watching him sleep— oh lords above. Scrambling to get up, Merlin pulled himself to his feet, succeeding in hitting his head on the gargantuan armoire once more. 

“God damnit ,” he cursed under his breath, rubbing the side of his head and trying his best not to hyperventilate. “What do I do now—”

“You could start with breakfast.” 

Merlin must’ve jumped a whole foot from the amused expression on Arthur’s face. The king laid, sprawled across the bed with a hand propped up his head. A blanket was draped haphazardly against his thighs and hips, making him look akin to the risqué portraits of the women that the painters passing through the lower town often sold in secret. He looked positively delectable and was brutally tearing Merlin’s breath away. Chasing away the stray thought, the warlock fixed Arthur with an annoyed look. “How long have you been awake?”

“Long enough to see you hit you hit your head on the same piece of furniture twice ,” the King snickered, not sounding very kingly at all. 

“Maybe you should get less obstructing furniture,” Merlin attempted, crossing his arms. “And does that mean you were watching me sleep, sire ?”

Arthur sputtered indignantly. “Of course not!” He managed finally. “You just happened to be shoving your enormous ugly face in my line of sight when I woke up. Which I woke up before   my servant, I must add.”

“It was a long night—”

“Perhaps I should get George to give you some lessons if you’re struggling this much with your duties.”

“Oh, shut up you giant clotpole ,” the warlock wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Maybe I should just let George take my job.”

“Very funny. You would probably get jealous.”

“Why would I be jealous of George’s suffering?” Merlin asked, patting down his clothes and stuffing his feet back into the boots he had discarded at the end of Arthur’s bed the night before. “And you won’t think it’s funny once he pulls out the brass jokes.”

The blonde visibly paled but didn’t say a word, instead just glaring wordlessly at his servant. Considering the exchange as a definite win (and adding to the running tally in his head) Merlin turned to go get Arthur’s breakfast when he heard Arthur clear his throat. 

“Merlin, why did you stay here last night?”

Hand stilling on the door jab, the warlock turning hesitantly. “In your room?” He said nervously. “I was… just…” Think of a good lie! Unfortunately, the only thing he could think of was “woodworm”, which didn’t make much sense in the context. 

“Don’t you dare lie to me.”

Sighing, Merlin turned around. “You fell asleep while I was… applying the balm.” He pointedly avoided the blonde’s intense gaze. “And I sat down afterwards to make sure you were asleep. Just in case you woke up. And needed something.”

Arthur was silent for a long moment. “First time I’ve heard of you being a good servant,” he said finally in an uncharacteristically soft tone. 

“Maybe you would be surprised,” the warlock said, attempted a soft smile before turning away, ducking through the door before the King had another chance to interrogate him with the insistent blush already creeping up to the tips of his annoyingly large ears.

At first, Merlin wasn’t sure what the thinly veiled smirks and pats on the back from the maids and manservants were about. It wasn’t until the Cook ( yes, the Cook) gave him a saucy wink and had one of the maids add a few extra sausages to Arthur’s breakfast that he realized what had happened. “Go get ‘em,” one of the other manservants laughed, slapping him on the back as he walked past, making the goblet balanced on the tray in Merlin’s hands wobble. 

“Y’all finally got over tiptoeing around each other,” one of the teenage stableboys remarked, voice cracking spectacularly as he walked off. 

“Congrats!” Morgana’s seamstress said as she slipped past him later on.  

As he walked through the halls, Merlin learned to carefully avoid all the crowded spots, blushing as fiercely as the rising sun. Everyone thinks that Arthur and I— that we— spying the inquisitive eyes of the chambermaids down the hall, Merlin nearly ran down to the King’s chambers, avoiding even the gaze of the guards that crowded the corridor. 

Everyone has heard about it, the warlock realized frantically. It was possibly one of the worst results that could have come about from this whole situation. No matter how much he wracked his brain, Merlin couldn’t think of a single other conclusion that the others had come to now that they were treating him like this. Oh my god, have the knights heard…? 

Deep breaths, deep breaths, the brunet told himself, pushing the door to Arthur’s chambers open with complicated maneuvering with his elbow and shin. “Took you long enough,” the King yelled snarkily from the inside. “What, were you gossiping with the kitchen maids?” 

“You wouldn’t believe,” Merlin said, utterly exasperated less than an hour after waking up. He slammed the door closed and set down Arthur’s breakfast, turning to see the blonde studying him intently. 

“You look like you’ve been chased around the castle,” Arthur remarked, sitting casually cross-legged on the bed. “Surely the rat catcher didn’t mistake you for one of his troublemakers.” 

“ Arthur .” The servant raked shaking hands through his hair, wondering how he would get out of this situation. I’ve faced off dragons and murderers and smugglers and sorcerers and kidnappers and fae-- apparently gossip was the most formidable foe of them all. Sighing to calm his nerves, Merlin looked up to see the King looking at him with thinly veiled concern. “Everyone’s heard.” 

“Make some sense, Mer lin.” 

“I-- they think-- they know. ” The big blonde idiot still showed no signs of comprehension. “About last night. They know.” 

“Last night,” Arthur repeated slowly. “What happened last night?” 

Gritting his teeth in frustration, Merlin gesticulated wildly to himself and Arthur. “About me! Us! I don’t know how, but they all know! They were congratulating me and making comments and Cook winked and gave me-- you-- us extra food and--” 

“ Us ,” Arthur seemed to be somewhere else, clearly not sharing in Merlin’s panicked meltdown. “I see.” 

“You don’t see! Everyone’s heard! Probably the whole of Camelot by now--” 

“What have they heard?” 

“Haven’t you been listening??” the brunet was pacing now, wringing his wrists and wondering if throwing himself off of the roof of the castle was a legitimate option. “They all think that we were-- last night--” How do I say this without coming off as a creep? “That we’re having… horizontal refreshment .” 

“That is quite simply put, the most juvenile euphemism I’ve ever heard.” Arthur said, looking like he was barely holding in a loud bark of laughter. “You might as well say that they think we were ‘shaking up the sheets’ or ‘in the service of Venus’,” he continued, blatantly enjoying this line of thought far too much. 

“Are you not bothered by any of this??” Merlin groaned, covering his face as his cheeks refused to recede to their natural color. He couldn’t chase the secret fantasies of Arthur out of his mind; he’d always harbored them in the darkness of the night, but to hear everyone-- even Arthur himself -- alluding to them, it was another level of embarrassing. 

The king was quiet for a moment. “Are you? Bothered by this, I mean?” 

Merlin’s heart caught in his throat. No, he thought fervently. Not at all. I wish it was true and not just a rumor. But that wasn’t what came out of his mouth. “Of course. And you should be too. You’re the King , and I’m a servant. ” He pointedly avoided Arthur’s pressing gaze. “And why would I want people to think that I’m… that I’m with you, you giant prat .” 

“Oh,” the blonde said finally, voice sounding awfully small in the large room. Merlin risked a glance his way to see something undecipherable on his face. After knowing Arthur for so long, not being able to tell what he was thinking was utterly terrifying. There was a long moment of silence and the warlock almost cut in, trying to say that he was joking, but Arthur finally spoke up. “You would be lucky to have horizontal refreshment with me. Missed your chance, idiot.” As typical and teasing as those words were, the lightness from earlier was all but gone. 

“You can keep the chance, I don’t want it.” Merlin mumbled, going back to messing with Arthur’s breakfast. Arthur was again, conspicuously silent. “What are you going to do about all the talk then?” 

“We’ll see,” the King said. “Why don’t you get to dressing me before you steal my food?” 

“Dollophead.” 

“The one and only.” 

“Have you heard?!” Leon asked, bursting into the armory where the knights were getting ready for a long day of training. 

“Heard what?” Elyan asked, looking rather tired after all the events of the past days. 

“Merlin and Arthur! They-- they finally--” 

“No!” Gwaine yelled, bolting up. “That can’t be!” 

“Who managed it?” Lancelot asked, pausing in lacing up a boot. “I didn’t know any of you were trying again after Gwaine’s disaster yesterday.” 

“We weren’t,” Percival replied, frowning. “At least, not that I know of.” 

“I didn’t think we were either,” Elyan said, planting a hand on his hip. “Wait, then could Morgana and Gwen have done it?” 

“There’s no way,” Gwaine gnashed his teeth together. “She couldn’t have! She doesn’t have the necessary expertise!” 

“You’re all right,” Leon cut in, still sounding rather out of breath. “I believe it was Gaius.” 

“Gaius ?” 

“How in the gods’ name--” 

“That scheming old man, I can’t believe this!” 

“Are you sure?” Percival asked, furrowing his brow. “What exactly happened?” 

“I don’t know exactly ,” Leon supplied. “I heard from the maids. Merlin went to Arthur’s room and spent the night there. He showed up in the morning in the kitchens, blushing like a bride and wearing the same messed up clothes from yesterday.” 

“To be fair,” Elyan cut in. “I’m fairly sure he only has two pairs of clothes.” 

“That’s not the point ,” Gwaine grumbled, slumping and plopping onto a bench. “That’s it. I’m ruined.” 

“Did you really think you could do it with your drunk man’s tactics?” Lancelot sighed. “You were going to die anyways. Be grateful that Arthur’s probably in good enough of a mood that your life will be spared.” 

“How did Gaius have anything to do with this anyways?” Percival asked.

Leon pursed his lips. “Rumor has it that he gave Merlin some sort of medicine to apply to all of Arthur’s bruises and sores. It was so strong that the entirety of Arthur’s chambers smelled of it this morning.” 

“He probably gave them a sex potion! ” Gwaine groaned, throwing his head back in his dramatic display of utter despair. “This isn’t fair !” 

He was about to go on, but Elyan hit him upside the head. “He’s coming,” the knight hissed. “Shut up.” 

The men quieted to hear the distant footsteps of Arthur, already fully dressed in his armor, followed by a pair of lighter ones. The King swung open the door, face set in a nearly angry expression. He stood there for a moment, eyes sweeping across the room. “You aren’t ready yet.” 

Merlin lingered uncertainly by the door, looking as though he had been chastised. “No, not yet, sire.” Leon said apologetically. “There was a bit of a… disturbance.” 

Steely blue eyes flitted across the room again. “Limit the dalliances. I expect all of you on the field within minutes.” 

The knights chorused a half-hearted “Yes, sire,” looking at each other in confusion as soon as Arthur turned his back. “What was that?” Elyan asked. “He seemed straight pissed.”

“Merlin!” Gwaine yelled, eyes alight with another dangerous sparkle as he grabbed the warlock’s arm before he could escape. “You’re not going anywhere.” 

“Arthur’s going to throw a fit,” the servant whined, but his pleas went ignored as the knights pulled him down onto a bench and surrounded him, staring at him with probing eyes. 

“Why’s Arthur being like that?” Gwaine asked, arms crossed. 

“We can usually hear you a mile away too, with the way you talk his ear off,” Elyan added. 

“Is there something wrong?” Lancelot interjected, wondering if the two had had a fight instead of sex. 

“Is this about the rumors?” Leon looked rather guilty. 

“Of course you’ve all heard too,” Merlin mumbled, dropping his head into his hands. “Everyone’s heard.” 

“So it’s true then,” Percival asked, rising to his full height and towering over the brunet. “You guys finally did it.” 

“Gods no!” Merlin protested, looking rather scandalized. “It’s not true at all!” 

“Wait, so you guys didn’t fuck it out?” Gwaine asked, grin splitting his face. 

“No, how would you ever believe something like that anyways? You know Arthur, you know me!” the servant’s voice seemed to be getting higher and higher in his renewed panic. “And you look so happy Gwaine! I’m glad that my pain is giving you so much joy.” 

“We do know you,” Lancelot mumbled under his breath. “And we know that the two of you are practically married.” 

Merlin pushed his friend, hoping the others heard nothing of what he had said. “That’s enough. Arthur’s right, the lot of you need less dalliances.”

“What are you going to do, Merlin?” Gwaine teased. “Tattle on us to the King?” 

“Maybe I will,” the warlock said stiffly. “Perhaps some extra drills will get your heads on right.” With that, he walked out of the armory, slamming the door shut behind him. 

The room was quiet for a moment before Gwaine chuckled evilly. “I knew it.”

“If it was that easy, they would have figured it out long ago,” Lancelot sighed. 

“I think we have other concerns right about now,” Leon looked rather annoyed with the situation. “Like the threat of extra training we just received.” 

“Merlin sounded just like my mother,” Elyan smirked, pulling a sharpened sword from the wall. “She used to threaten us just like that when she was too soft to punish me and Gwen. ‘ I’ll tell your father on you, and you won’t like that’ , the like.” 

“Are you saying that Merlin and Arthur are playing Momma and Poppa?” 

“I think we should be more concerned that we would be playing the children.” 

When the knights finally congregated outside on the training field, Arthur was already swinging his sword haphazardly at a training dummy, looking terribly serious. Each of his strokes was deadly and precise. “Looks like we’re in for it again,” Elyan sighed, walking ahead. 

Lancelot clapped a hand on Gwaine’s back, recoiling when he winced. “Good luck.” 

“Thanks,” Gwaine mumbled, seeming to be barely hiding a smile. He had regained his morale, it seemed, and was truly here for round three of his insensible plan. Gods bless his heart, Lance thought, praying for his friend’s life. 

“Stop dawdling, men!” Arthur bellowed from yards away. “If you’re so intent on gossiping, maybe I should find you jobs as chambermaids!” 

“Geez, Princess,” Gwaine grumbled picking up the pace. The lower-ranked knights looked on curiously as the elite five lumbered up beside the King, obviously distracted and fidgety. 

Merlin watched on from a safe distance, not even wearing his trademark smile. The way that the other knights and stableboys were casting probing looks at him was making him feel bitter and nervous. It’s not fair, he thought angrily, retreating into the armory to lug out shields for the next phase of Arthur’s drills. If people are going to gossip about it anyways, it would be much better if it had actually happened. That thought was treacherous-- Merlin had always promised himself that he would hide the truth about his feelings, even to himself. But here, alone, when every soul in Camelot thought he was warming his King’s bed, he couldn’t bring himself to deny the emotions that he only considered in the darkest of dark nights. I’ve hid the truth of my bloodline and my magic and being Emrys himself, the warlock thought, gritting his teeth. What’s one more lie? 

“Say, Merlin,” Percival piped up as the knights sat about during their break. Arthur still seemed angry enough that he wasn’t taking even a second to breathe. He had taken both Leon and Lancelot in a two-on-one this time, which Gwaine seemed rather thankful for, despite not saying a word. 

“What is it?” the servant was in a bad mood to match his King. 

“Did it hurt?” 

Merlin looked up from where he had been idly sharpening a sword for far too long. “Did what hurt??” 

Percival grinned sheepishly. “Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?” 

Elyan nearly dropped his sword, fumbling and rescuing it. “Oh come on,” Gwaine groaned, dragging a hand down his face. 

The warlock just stared, blinking owlishly. “Percival, are you…?” the taller man stared at him intently. “Are you calling me the devil?” 

“Dear lord,” Elyan tightened his grip on the sword as Gwaine unsuccessfully muffled his laughter. “Merlin, could you give us a minute?” 

“...alright…?” the brunet moved out of earshot, wondering what would lead Percival to say something like that to him. 

“What in the world are you doing?” Elyan hissed. 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Percival shot back. 

“Stealing my plan and flirting with him,” Gwaine said angrily, giggles receding. “That’s against the knight’s code.” 

“Flirting? ” 

“No, stealing wingman tactics!” 

“Your ‘wingman tactics’ don’t really function as such anyways--” 

“Oh, shut it, you giant oaf--” 

“Guys! ” Elyan sighed, wondering if running one (or both) of them through would end this mess. Well there’s Morgana to consider. “You need to calm down and stop fighting like children.” 

Gwaine snarled, crossing his arms and glaring at Percival. “Then tell him to stop stealing my plan.” 

“I wasn’t stealing your plan!” 

“Then, pray tell , what were you doing?” 

Percival sat down on the bench heavily. “I was trying to flirt with him on Arthur’s behalf.” 

“It sure sounded like you were flirting with him,” Elyan pointed out. “I thought you were following in Gwaine’s footsteps.” 

Percival just shook his head resolutely. “I have a plan, just let me give it a shot.” 

“What the hell,” Elyan sighed. “Sure, why doesn’t everyone just try their hand then?”

“That was the idea all along,” Gwaine replied, clapping a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Glad to see that you’ve finally joined the party.” 

Closer to the end of practice, Percival took another break to ‘get a drink’, when he was really just bothering poor Merlin again. He saw Arthur glaring his way. Possessive much. If he didn’t want to get mauled like Gwaine, he needed to act fast. “Hey, Merlin, come ‘ere.” The servant looked up, expression wary, but did as he was told. “I think something’s wrong with Arthur’s eyes.” 

A wave of concern washed over Merlin’s face as he looked over at his King, who was glaring intently in their direction. “What is it?” 

Percival hid a grin. “He can’t seem to take them off of you.” 

There was a pause. Percival was expecting something-- perhaps a blush, an aversion of eyes, a glare, denial, anything but what he got. Merlin simply rolled his eyes, dropping whatever he had been working on and grabbing a waterskin instead. “Don’t worry about him,” he said nonchalantly. “He usually does that whenever he needs something but he’s too much of a baby to ask for it like a normal human being.” 

“Huh?” 

“Go back to training,” Merlin continued, waving off Percival’s befuddled look. “I’ll take care of it.” 

As the knight watched the Merlin cross the field to Arthur, he was wondering how on Earth the servant could be so blind. Maybe I should try my hand at Arthur instead. 

“Sire,” Percival said, walking up beside the King as the knights dispersed from the field. Training had gone on all day, with barely a break for lunch. The sun was already beginning to set and the dewy scent of dusk was settling oppressively over the entirety of Camelot. 

“What?” the blonde kept walking at a pace that if Percival wasn’t an actual giant , he would’ve found difficult to keep up with. 

“It’s about Merlin,” the knight continued, hoping to catch Arthur’s attention. 

“What did the idiot do now?” 

How am I supposed to come up with a pickup line for that?  “He’s still pretty new to Camelot, Arthur.” 

“I doubt years would be considered new--” 

“I don’t know, he doesn't really know his way around here yet. Maybe you should give him directions... to your place.” It was all Percival could do to not wince audibly. What in the Gods’ name just came out of my mouth? 

“He lives in ‘my place’,” Arthur said, giving Percival a strange look. “Are you sure you’re fine? Perhaps you got hit in the head? I don’t suppose Merlin’s stupidity is contagious.” 

“It’s nothing, sire,” the knight said quickly as he spied Merlin coming up behind them, already looking sufficiently exhausted. “It’s just that…” Percival’s eyes darted to Gwaine following Merlin at a short distance, eyes gleaming like a wolf’s set on prey. “Gwaine, the other knights, Merlin, and I were going to go down to the tavern for a drink,” he blurted. 

Merlin’s eyes widened on cue with Gwaine’s, before a smirk flickered across the latter’s face. “That’s right, it’ll be great!” Gwaine added.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to tag along, but you seem quite tired,” Percival added, sidestepping the King to stand next to his fellow knight. “Goodnight, sire. We will see you tomorrow.” 

Arthur watched them for a full moment, jaw hanging open in the slightest as Gwaine grabbed Merlin’s shoulder and dug his fingers in. “But-- but Merlin still has duties--” 

“I already talked to Geroge,” Gwaine called with a wicked grin. 

“I don’t want George ,” The blonde shot back, gritting his teeth. “Merlin, come along and help me change.” 

“Alright, Merlin,” Percival sighed. “Come catch up with us after you’ve been dismissed, I guess.” 

Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “In that case, do save a spot for me as well.” 

Gwaine grinned, face nearly splitting in two. “Will do, princess.” 

“Her highness has arrived!!” Gwaine bellowed from where he was slumped on a table, one hand still curled protectively around a tankard of mysterious-looking mead. 

The other knights turned to see a disgruntled looking Arthur sauntering into the tavern his knights frequented, a confused and annoyed looking Merlin behind him. “Take a seat,” Percival offered the chairs beside him, one next to him and the other to the right of Gwaine. 

Arthur, quite predictably, shoved past the other tavern-goers to sit next to Gwaine, serving as a conspicuous roadblock between the horny knight and his servant. With that much of a jealous and possessive streak, Percival honestly wondered how on Earth Arthur had gotten this far without giving in and marking Merlin up as his own. 

“You seem to be drunk already,” the King said to Gwaine.

The latter just laughed merrily. “Oh, Princess, when am I not ?” 

Percival could already feel a pleasant hum from the alcohol coursing through him, and he spared a glance at their resident lightweight (Elyan) to see that he was all but completely blacked out. Lancelot had been taking periodical sips, being the type that nobody could quite discern if he was drunk or not until he opened his mouth. Meanwhile, Leon was sitting at the end of the table, arms crossed and close to his sword, looking quite stalwart and disapproving as he was already expecting the purpose of this impromptu outing. 

“Mer~lin,” Percival called out finally. “I really like your tunic.” 

The brunet looked at him quizzically before gulping down a mouthful of mead. “I’ve had this tunic for years.” 

“I know,” Percival said. “It looks good on you.”

Arthur was glaring daggers his way now, laced with a healthy dose of suspicion. “Thanks, I guess,” Merlin began.

“But—” the knight interrupted. “It would look much better on Arthur’s floor.” 

The King turned a bright shade of red, anger melting from his face and being replaced by embarrassment. Lancelot choked on his drink and Gwaine looked on, open-mouthed in his inebriated state. Leon was the only one who remained stubbornly still. 

“Oh please,” Merlin laughed, a soft mocking smile on his face. “As if Arthur would let me have the luxury of disrobing anywhere like he does. The room in his floor is nearly carpeted with how many tunics have found permanent residence there.”

“That wouldn’t be a problem if you did your job,” Arthur snapped, raising up his tankard to cover his face. Gwaine, meanwhile, was having the time of his life laughing his ass off at Percival’s failure. 

I can’t be beat this easily. Percival looked up and made eye contact with Lancelot, who looked rather exasperated, but nodded anyways. “Sire, the owner of the tavern wanted to see you in person,” Lance said, rising. 

“Now ?”

“He’s been asking for weeks, Sire, but you’ve always been so busy.” Lancelot put on his best sympathetic expression. “He just wanted to thank you, really. But if you aren’t in the mood right now, I suppose he will have to understand. I shall go tell him that you can’t speak with him—”

“No, no,” Arthur stood up, chair grating against the floorboards underfoot. “I’ll see him.”

“Are you sure—"

“I said that I will. Come along, Lancelot. Leon will watch over this lot and make sure they don’t drink themselves silly.” 

Leon looked like he was about to hyperventilate, but he gave a stilted nod. Reassured, Arthur sighed and let Lance lead the way, leaving a comatose Elyan, Mom Friend Leon, utterly wasted Gwaine, scheming Percival, and an apprehensive Merlin in his wake. 

“Well, Merlin, do you believe in love at first sight?” Percival tried. 

The man in question blinked. “What?”

“Do you believe in love at first sight? Or should we have Arthur walk by again?” Percival was absolutely drunk now, even if he was being outdone by Gwaine howling with laughter at his friend’s terrible attempts at flirting by proxy. 

“You lot are the worst! I have half a mind to believe you're the ones who started the rumors to begin with,” Merlin sighed. “And I’ve known Arthur for ten years, this wouldn’t be ‘first sight’ anyways.” 

Percival frowned. “Well, how about…” he trailed off. “If Arthur likes your body, would you hold it against him?” 

The brunet looked confused. “Would I hold it against him? Why would I? Wouldn’t that be a good thing? Well, of course, not that I’m saying that I want him to, of course not, he’s a giant cabbagehead and I wouldn’t want that at all, but your question really makes no sense in any context, does it?” He look another large swig from his drink. “If anyone likes my body, why would I hold it against… oh .” 

Gwaine guffawed from Merlin’s side, sounding quite like a howling hyena in his hysterical giggles. “It's just kitchen gossip!” Merlin grumbled, looking awfully troubled, almost enough to make Percival feel guilty. Almost. This is for his own good. 

“Yes, but how much you two moon over each other is no kitchen gossip,” Percival pointed out.

“There you go again! Lancelot put you up to this, didn't he?” Merlin slammed his tankard on the table, watching the aforementioned knight and Arthur weave their way through the dense crowd back to their table. “He goes on about being honorable and about being my friend but he sets me up like this.” The words were mumbled, as if he hadn’t meant for anyone else to hear them. “Just wait until he gets a piece of my mind this time.” 

“He didn’t put me up to anything, Merlin,” Percival said, words beginning to slur together. “Believe it or not, all of us are just interested in making sure the two of you are happy.” 

“Right,” the servant drawled, rolling his eyes. “Everyone just suddenly decided that trying to get me and Arthur together was their new mission. What a coincidence.” You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, Percival thought, casting a lost look a rigid Leon as Gwaine fell out of his chair with laughter. 

“Steppp aside, Percy,” Gwaine said from his new home on the floor. “G—giveth— the massster a go.” The words all came out sounding like one, but after dealing with a drunk Gwaine for years, the knights could decide the strange and nearly foreign language he spoke when hammered. 

Percival rolled his eyes, slumping back into his chair and letting the alcohol render him nearly senseless. Picking up another full tankard, he got through it in a minute flat, egged on by hoots and hollers from Gwaine, who still refused to get up. “You’re really taking to the bad influences,” Arthur commented as he returned a few moments later. 

“Maybe,” The tall knight managed.

“What’s Gwaine doing on the floor?” Lancelot asked, not even sure if he wanted to know the answer. 

“Enjoying the view,” Percival replied, just as Gwaine yelled, “LOOKING FOR A RAT’S NEST! ”

"Oh, good, say hi to your kin for me," Merlin grumbled, unleashing a bit of the snark he usually reserved for Arthur alone. 

“You are definitely going to have to carry him out of here,” Arthur sighed in distaste, leaving himself out of the ‘carrying crew’ as he squeezing himself back into his seat. 

“Offf course they will!!!” Gwaine giggled, eyes bubbling up with happy tears. “Be—because you have things to do, don’t you?”

“Has he ever been this drunk before?” Arthur asked with a sigh. “And of course I have better things to do than lugging around a knight drunk off his ass. I’m the King, if you’ve forgotten.” As the others had figured out years ago, Arthur was quite the steadfast and serious drunk. 

Gwaine laughed harder. “Like~~ sneaking into Ladyyyy Genevieve’s room?”  

Arthur choked on his drink. “What??”

Merlin’s eyes darted up to meet Gwaine’s. “Our dear Princess was sneaking out of the Lady’s room a few days nights ago,” the drunk continued, sounding suspiciously sober. “I can’t believe you hadn’t heard about it ‘til now!”

“Of course we haven't, there was a much juicier rumor going around,” Percival interjected, raising a teasing eyebrow at Merlin. 

“I didn’t know you liked her,” Merlin said in a measured tone, ignoring Percival's jab and swishing around his drink. 

“I don’t! Of course not!” Arthur sputtered indignantly. “It’s really not that!”

“Telllll me,” Gwaine yelled from the floor, “How does the Princess enjoy his esssscapadess ?” 

“It was nothing of the sort,” Arthur shot back. “I just needed some help with something.” Merlin looked away, remembering the night a few days ago when he had been sent away early. Was that the night it had happened? 

“At midnight ?” Gwaine shot up into a sitting position suddenly, meeting Arthur’s eyes with a challenging look of his own. “Whatever you say, your highness .” His eyes drifted to Merlin, who looked forlorn as he clutched his tankard with wound white fingers. Apparently, Merlin doesn’t get outwardly jealous. He’s the depressed type. Gwaine sighed. Plan A it is then.

Pushing himself up off of the floor, Gwaine stumbled over, draping himself around Merlin’s shoulders. “Yourrr ears are all red Merls,” he cooed, trailing a finger slowly down the side of Merlin’s head and delighting in the response it elicited from both him and Arthur. 

Blushing madly, Merlin shoved Gwaine away before reaching out to hold him up again when he began to sink and falter like a dead weight. “Gods' sake, Gwaine,” the brunet mumbles, getting up and hoisting the older man up with a hand over his shoulder. “Stay put!”  He limped around Arthur’s seat, where Leon has pulled out Gwaine’s chair accessibly as Lancelot helped drag the drunk by his other arm. 

It was Percival’s turn to laugh. “...’ere you go,” Lancelot muttered, helping Merlin deposit Gwaine in his chair. 

Lance was making his way back to his own seat when Gwaine grabbed Merlin’s hand with a little pout. “Let’s run away, Merllllinnn,” he whispered in sing-song, pulling the brunet down to eye level. “Anywhere you want, darrrrling.”

“Gwaine—"

“Shhhhushhhhh,” The knight shoved a finger over Merlin’s lips, grabbing him by the waist and taking advantage of the servant’s warped sense of balance to pull him down into his lap. “Sit here and be a good boy.”

In his peripheral vision, Gwaine could see Arthur planning to crush his skull in. Plan A might work just yet. 

“Gods above, Gwaine!” Merlin yelled, shoving himself off of the knight and stepping away. “I told you once, and I’ll tell you again! I want no part in your games of fucking anything with a pulse!” He sighed, looking away. “I know you’re drunk but, just… maybe hit on someone else instead. Like Percival. Percival seems pretty into you.”

It was Percival’s turn to choke on his drink as Arthur’s face fell into a wicked smile. “Is that so?” the blonde pressed, looking pleased. “Better tell the truth, it’s treason to lie to your King.” 

“There is no way,” Percival said, sounding rather scandalized. 

Leon buried his face in his hands and Lancelot gave him a sympathetic pat on the back, as the two of them were entirely in the same boat. Gwaine’s jovial expression dropped at the sudden change of topic and how quickly Merlin had been able to undo all the jealousy he'd had managed to foster in the King. Gwaine has never been a religious man, but in that moment he prayed fervently. Gods, help them. They need it. 

Elyan took that terribly timed moment to startle awake. “Arthur? Merlin? You're here?” He mumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “What did I miss?”

Chapter Text

“Morgana,” Gwen mumbled, laying with her head in her lover’s lap. “Didn’t you say that you wanted to take a stab at Gwaine’s challenge today?”

“Mmhmm,” the witch hummed, fingers stuck carding through the brunette’s hair, pleasantly distracted for the time being. “Later…”  

“You’re going to regret this afterwards,” the maid sighed, looking up at Morgana as her head lolled back against the cushions. 

“I would never regret you,” Morgana said, casting a serious look at Gwen. “I mean that.”

“I know, dear.” The brunette whispered, smiling softly. “I know. But I wasn't talking about us, and you know that." 

“That’s why we need to beat Gwaine and those hot-headed knights’ asses together.”

“Oh, goodness. I'm a part of this, aren't I?" Gwen sighed. "What else was I expecting?" 

Merlin was undoubtedly having the worst day of his life. If he had thought waking up to incessant rumors and shame was terrible, then waking up to outrageously exaggerated and persistent rumors, coupled with overwhelming shame and a cruel hangover was something he wouldn’t even wish on his worst enemy  (okay, maybe he would, but in Merlin’s defense, most of his worst enemies were downright monsters). 

He always made sure not to drink too much with the knights, especially with how experienced Gwaine was at instigating people to their ruin. But with Arthur right there , Merlin had had to down a tankard or two to keep himself distracted. Okay, more like two or three tankards. Fine, three or four. Just a  lot . 

Merlin grumbled under his breath, flinching at every sound that even threatened to aggravate his pounding headache. Gaius had given him such a disapproving look that morning when he had finally rolled out of bed that Merlin hadn’t worked up the gall to ask for some sort of hangover medication. Thankfully, Arthur was out cold when the warlock arrived in his Kingly chambers, so there was no danger of being yelled at first thing in the morning. 

Head ducked behind a load of the King’s laundry, Merlin limped into the laundry hall, where boisterous laughed could be heard. It felt as though a nail was being hammered into the side of the brunet’s head. Oh, for lord’s sake, shut your goddamned mouths-- 

“You should have seen them,” Carol the kitchen maid's voice floated into the hallway, freckled cheeks no doubt flushed with amusement, though Merlin could not see her from around the corner. Her voice was just too high-pitched to forget. “I saw them coming back from the tavern last night!” 

“Oh, so did I!” Gemma the Cook’s assistant said testily, no doubt annoyed by the stolen glory of telling a raunchy story--  Gemma and Carol never quite got along anyways. 

“Do tell!” Is that the James the stableboy? 

There was a round of grating, annoying giggles that had Merlin rolling his eyes and ready to barge into the room and silence them, but something kept him rooted to the spot. And it wasn’t his sore shoulders and tired legs. It was something more akin to curiosity. He positioned himself at the nearly closed door, peeking into the room to see servants from all around the grounds having a full on gossip session. 

“I saw the Knights of the Round all stumbling back at the crack of dawn,” Carol said in a considerably terrible whisper. 

Gemma apparently wasn’t having it. “Oh, that’s all you saw, was it? Well, you’ll be surprised to know them that I saw Merlin and the King making their way through the back entrance!” 

“You need to give us more than just that !” Lilian, an elfish chambermaid said whinily. 

“Did Merlin look defiled and ravished?” James the stableboy asked, and Merlin felt himself flush at the question: out of anger or embarrassment he couldn’t tell. 

Damien, Geoffrey’s apprentice, chuckled. “He always looks defiled and ravished, to be fair.” 

“If I was the King, I wouldn’t let him out of my sight!” Nellie the maid said, sounding rather predatory. 

Jewel, the seamstress’s daughter, crossed her arms. “Oh, hands off. If His Majesty hadn’t jumped him by this solstice, I was about to do it myself.” 

“That what you say every year--” Gemma cut in. 

“It’s not my fault that a new noble is in love with him every year!” 

“I actually thought that Gwen and Merlin were together for quite a while,” Damien said. 

“Me too!” Carol sighed sadly. “And afterwards, I thought it was Sir Lancelot that had stolen his heart.” 

“He didn’t have a chance,” Lilian butted in. “Merlin had already fallen for the King by then.” 

“What about Sir Gwaine?” Nellie pointed out. 

“Oh, and the Lady Morgana!” Finian the kennel boy said. 

James smirked. “Let’s not forget Duchess Janelle. She couldn’t even keep her hands to herself.” 

“How did the King even hold off this long?” A boy Merlin didn’t recognize went on. “How would he stop himself when he’s so head over heels?” 

“Head over heels,” Damien snorted. “As if? The King isn’t in love with a servant .” Merlin froze, breath catching in his throat. 

“Oh, hush, let us imagine,” Nellie moaned, wrinkling her nose. 

“Imagine what,” James rolled his eyes. “That the His Highness has actually fallen from that little minx?” Minx?

“He needs to teach us some of his tricks,” Lilian sighed. “He seduces everyone around here.” 

“You don’t need to be taught ,” Finian snickered. 

“Oh, you’re right,” Gemma laughed. “All he needs to do is bat those lashes and spread his legs. Who can resist a pretty little whore like him?” Merlin took a step back, back bumping into the stone wall behind him, pile of laundry in his arms wobbling. 

“He’s so slender too,” Carol added, sounding rather envious. “And the arse on him too? No wonder everyone wants to get so handsy.” 

“All of you are so naive to think this is the first time this has ever happened,” Jewel said. “He probably warmed the King’s bed in the first place. How on Earth would he of all people be a royal manservant otherwise? He can’t even do the most basic of tasks!” I’m not going to get upset, the warlock told himself. I’m not a child. That, and it would only serve to worsen his hangover.  

“I told you a long time ago,” Nellie shot back. “Nobody believed me.” 

“I suppose that just means that the little harlot’s lost all sense of propriety now,” Damien laughed. “And so has His Majesty.” Merlin turned on his heel, jaw tight and fingers clutching the dirty laundry pile with whitening fingers. The lump in his throat was growing, but he refused to let his eyes mist, letting his feet carry him towards Arthur’s chambers.

Arthur awoke to bright sunlight trying to pry his eyes open. It was intrusive, painful, and too much for him to deal with. “ Mer lin!” he groaned into a pillow. “Close the windows, idiot!” 

There was no response. Instead, there was a steady set of footsteps towards the general direction of the windows. A curtain of darkness washed over the room and Arthur relaxed. “I want my food in bed,” he grumbled, feeling rather queasy but knowing that he wasn’t going to do himself good by starving himself. 

Again, there wasn’t even a breath of response. Instead, there was another chorus of footsteps before the room to Arthur’s chambers was yanked open and slammed closed, creating a resounding echo that rung in the blonde’s ears. He sat up in a rage, ready, to admonish Merlin, but realizing that he was already gone a little late. When he gets back, the King decided, making himself a pillow throne in the meanwhile,  He’ll get a piece of my mind. 

Arthur was beyond worried. He had interacted with plenty of hungover Merlins, and if anything, the servant just tended to become more chattery and irritable. He wasn’t so… quiet. No matter what prattish move the blonde pulled, Merlin was just taking it with gritted teeth and averted eyes. 

“Say, you didn’t leave your voice in the tavern last night, did you?” Arthur tried, sounding a little bit too concerned and invested for his taste, but it couldn’t be helped. 

The brunet just shook his head. 

Surely, he didn’t go mute overnight? “ Mer lin!” 

Soulful blue eyes flicked up to meet his before darting away, down to his hands where he was polishing Arthur’s boots. “Yes, sire?” 

“What’s wrong with you?” All he received was a noncommittal shrug. “Are you giving me the silent treatment?” 

Merlin’s polishing stilled for a moment, one of his hands clutching the heel of the boot hard enough that Arthur wondered distantly for a moment if it would snap off. The brunet sighed, the tension that had been fixed into his shoulder lessening just a bit as he set the boot back down onto the floor. “I was hoping that if I didn’t respond to your taunts you would stop so that I could suffer through my headache in peace,” he said finally. 

Arthur chuckled, weight of concern lifting from his chest as he took another swig of his water. “Tough luck then.” 

“Indeed,” Merlin said, meeting his King’s eyes with a smile that Arthur realized was far too fake to reach his eyes. 

“So, other than the aftereffects of an irresponsible night at the tavern, you’re alright?” 

“As alright as I can be, having to serve you all day.” The comment fell flat, without any of the usual sass laced in his tone. Arthur gripped his water tighter, watchful eyes flitting across Merlin, wondering what had happened and what he wasn’t being told. I’ll figure it out, dimwit. Just wait. 

Gwen sighed, brushing down her skirt for the umpteenth time since she had been sent on her mission. Raising up a reluctant hand, she knocked on the door to Arthur’s chambers. The sound echoed across the nearly empty corridor, followed by long seconds of silence. Maybe he’s not here…? 

“Come in.” 

Swallowing her inhibitions and thinking solely of Morgana, Gwen let herself into the room, where Arthur sat, curtains drawn, at his desk, doing nothing at all, but still making a big show of it with papers and quills strewn about his entire desk as if he was in the midst of a crisis. Merlin wasn’t there, as Morgana had predicted, because he was probably down getting Arthur’s armor and chainmail polished in the armory right about now. 

“Guinevere,” the King said, voice sounded quite dejected. Gwen would have been offended by the lack of enthusiasm if she hadn’t known that Arthur was probably hoping to see Merlin back instead. I can't compete with Merlin when it comes to Arthur. 

“Arthur,” she smiled. “I was wondering if I could speak to you.” 

“About?” 

“It’s about Morgana,” the brunette began, before backtracking at Arthur’s steely expression. “Don’t worry, it’s not about her magic!” 

“I would hope not,” the King began. 

“Actually, it is about her magic. Just a little.” The maid interrupted him. “I misspoke. I do that a lot, don’t I? Oh, dear. It’s not about anything bad about her magic. I think. It isn’t, I’m sure it isn’t.” Gods above, Gwen had to fight from covering her face up. All I have to do is distract him for a little. Is it really that hard? 

“You’re not making much sense,” Arthur sighed, crossing his arms. 

“You’re right. Could I… sit for a moment? And explain?” She closed the door behind her, sliding the lock into place behind her back. 

“Of course,” the blonde said, eyebrows raised in curiosity. 

“Thank you, sire,” Gwen said with another one of her sweetest smiles, racking her brain for every conversation topic that she had spent the walk here thinking of, all of which had fled her mind at once. “This might take a little while.” 

Merlin had been watching his magic polish Arthur’s armor idly, too drained to do anything other than sit on the benches in the dark shadows of the armory and sulk. Whore. Harlot. Minx. The words were loud and grating in his head, joining what remained of his headache to taunt him. Is that really what everyone else thought of him? 

He wound his hands into his jacket, pulling it tighter around his lanky frame and feeling rather disgusting. As though he really had been defiled. How many people just thought he was just a wench that had slept his way up into the castle walls?  Getting up, he caught his reflection in the shiny surface of Arthur’s chest plate, seeing the dim light cast shadows over hollowed cheeks and a messy mop of hair. Is that what people see me as? 

“Oh, Mer~ lin!” In a panic, the warlock dropped the armor and the cleaning rag to the floor, wincing at the thump that no doubt meant a terrible dent that he was going to get yelled at for. The door of the armory swung open, revealing Morgana, clad in her lacy black witchy robes, paired with the bright lips of her days as a ward. 

“Morgana,” Merlin wheezed, attempting a smile and stepping in front of the armor on the floor. “Fancy seeing you here.” 

“I was looking for you,” the witch said with a dark smile, draping herself against the door frame.

“Did Arthur call for me?” 

“Arthur, Arthur, Arthur ,” Morgana sighed with a roll of her eyes. “Do you talk about anything else?” 

“I just thought--”

“Hush. I wanted to speak to you.” 

“Me?” Merlin stepped back, feeling the slightest bit defensive. “I already told you, I’m sorry about the poison, and--”

“Not that ,” the witch said, tone gaining an edge. “Believe me, if I wanted to kill you, you make it far too easy. I’m over that. It was just a phase, okay? So calm down a little, I don’t think I’m going to kill anyone for a while now. I’ll stick to maiming at most.” 

Merlin wasn’t sure if he was supposed to feel comforted by that fact, especially since he still hadn’t told anyone about his magic. Maybe doing so would break Morgana’s “no killing” streak. “So what did you want to talk about then?” 

“Not here,” Morgana said, voice dipping into a whisper. “Come with me.” 

“ Now?!”

“Did I stutter?” 

“Where are we going?” 

“Can’t you wait for a minute?” Morgana snapped, pushing through the brambles ahead, leading Merlin deeper and deeper in the woods. He was honestly started to wonder if the “no kill” promise was just a farce and if he was about to be impaled by a very sharp branch. Magic pulsing at his fingertips, he followed the witch as she beckoned to him, leading him towards a clearing near the creek. 

“Now, I wish this could be more public, but y’know, magic is still outlawed, and this is my favorite dress, so I wouldn’t want to be burned in it, even though Arthur might not do it himself, who knows, the villagers do love their pitchforks and torches--” 

“Morgana, what is this?” 

The witch turned around, long hair falling in curly locks over her pale shoulder, looking rather innocent despite the situation. “Come on, Merlin, you can’t be that dense.” 

The warlock looked around, frozen in place. He was standing at the center of the clearing, surrounded by rings of glittering, conjured petals in all shades of the rainbow, interspersed with crystals and gemstones, all forming giant hearts in the grass. Rows of candles all lit at once with a murmured spell from Morgana, long chains of jewels falling in draped ribbons across the trees. Morgana’s eyes flashed gold yet again, bringing a swarm of butterflies to rest upon nearly translucent roses that rose straight up from the ground around him. 

“Morgana--” 

“Shh!” 

“What are you--” 

“What part of shut up don’t you understand?” The witch rolled her eyes, face becoming visibly paler at all the energy she was putting into this extravagant display. There was a distant sound of shuffling and breaking branches and Merlin’s heart sank. Through the bushes on the other side of the clearing walked Gwen with Arthur himself, looking just as bewildered as Merlin felt. 

“Morgana, what’s going on?” the blonde asked. 

The witch simply grinned, cupping her hands together as her eyes flashed gold again. She took a long step forward, approaching Merlin with purpose. “Arthur, come here.” 

“What are you doing ?” the King asked, exasperated, but made his was over anyways, looking rather annoyed as he did so. “I don’t know what this is, but I do know it’s a waste of my time.” 

Morgana glared at her half-brother before fixing the nicest smile she could conjure up onto her face. Which, if Merlin hadn’t known her, would have seemed to be more of a threatening scowl than a smile. “Today,” she began. “Gwen and I are here in the honor of the two densest idiots we know.”

“Hey!” Arthur interjected, but he went ignored. 

“And to that end--” she opened her cupped hands and dropped to a knee in front of Merlin, holding a glittery ring of the brightest gold he had ever seen, with a massive, gaudy diamond on top. It was shiny enough that it reflected light like a mirror, making his hungover eyes ache. “Merlin of Ealdor. Would you do Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot, the honor of marrying him?” 

“ What ?!” 

Arthur’s mouth fell open in tandem. “Did you just… propose on my behalf ?” 

Merlin took a step back, dread boiling in his gut as he looked from Morgana’s face to Gwen’s, then back to Arthur’s. Did they really think this would be funny? 

“My knees are getting tired, Merlin,” Morgana whined. 

The warlock glared at her. “I know I wronged you before, Morgana, but this is unnecessarily cruel.” 

Morgana’s expression mirrored Arthur’s. 

Merlin was not to be stopped. “I’ve had enough of a terrible day as it is, alright? So you’ve all had your fun, why don’t you go back to the castle and turn in? Unlike you, I actually have duties to get to. I can’t just sit around amusing myself with at others’ expense all day.” 

“Merlin!” Gwen snapped, sounding annoyed. “Morgana put so much work into this!” 

“Well, I’m sorry if I didn’t deliver!” the manservant scowled, crossing his arms defensively over his chest. “That what you get for putting so much work into a joke about me being a whore , anyways!” With that, he turned on his heel and stormed into the woods, a whirlwind of anger and mortification brewing just under his skin. How dare Morgana pull something like that? And for even Gwen and Arthur to be there! And for Gwen to defend the situation? 

The boughs overhead were scratching against his skin and catching on his clothes, but Merlin didn’t care. He just wanted to be away, no matter how far that would have to be. 

“What was that supposed to be?!” Arthur yelled, throwing his hands up in the air. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you! And the knights too! And even Merlin! All of you are hiding things from me and pulling these strange stunts and what in the world is going on?” 

“I was trying to help !” Morgana yelled back. “It’s not my fault that my timing was off!” 

Gwen made her way over to her lover, setting a hand on Morgana’s shoulder to calm her down. “Merlin’s probably a little agitated,” she said softly. “It must be all the rumors about him and Arthur that are bothering him.” 

“Is a rumor terrible enough to warrant that response?” Morgana asked sulkily, eyes flashing against as her magic faded from the clearing, leaving just an empty clearing. “I thought for sure that I would get the two of you engaged today.” 

“Engaged,” Arthur laughed dryly. “Why in the Gods’ name would we get engaged? The magic must have fried your brain.” He shook his head, lips set in a firm line. “I would rather die than ask that elephant-eared idiot to marry me.” 

“That why I was doing it for you, you stubborn arsewipe--”

“And look what you did! Who knows what ditch he’s going to fall into!” Arthur returned, sounding rather panicked. “He’s been acting weird all day, and now there’s this--” He made to continue his sentence, but Morgana rolled her eyes again, muttering a spell under her breath that had the King collapsing to the ground, knocked out cold. 

“I can’t take his yammering,” she supplied to Gwen, who gave an apologetic nod of agreement. “Come, help me back to the castle. I’m drained after that useless waste of my talents.” 

“What about Arthur?” the maid asked as she draped Morgana’s arm over her shoulder. 

“We’ll send one of the knights to come get him. I already cast a protection charm over him, so don’t worry,” she said, waving off Gwen’s concern. “I’m just upset Merlin ran off before I even got to the fireworks part.” 

Maybe I’m overreacting a little bit, Merlin considered, rubbing a finger over his jacket where it had gotten caught on a branch in his storming off. He would have to mend it now. At this rate, his clothes were all more mends and patches than they were the original fabric. With a sigh, he shoved his hands into his pockets, sighing when he felt the smattering of holes in both of them. Sure, she took it a little too far, but at least she put in the effort? 

It was a bad excuse, but Merlin didn’t have it in his heart to hold a grudge against Morgana any longer. He had wronged her before-- he had tried to kill her, for Gods’ sake! Did a little practical joke really deserve that much of his wrath? 

The warlock had been wandering aimlessly through the forest before, having little to no sense of direction and mostly just letting his feet guide him, but now he had decided. I need to apologize to her. His eyes flashed gold in the warm noon light that barely made its way past the tangled brambles up overhead, leaving a trail for his feet to follow, all the way back to the inner city walls.

Arthur had tried following Merlin, but he seemed to have vanished without a trace. “He’ll be fine,” Lancelot said, looking a little too sure of himself for the King to take him seriously. 

“He’s Merlin, ” Arthur protested instead. “He’s probably dead by now! Maybe he hit his head on a rock, or tripped and fell down a hill, or got bit by a rabid squirrel--” 

“You’re being so fussy ,” Gwaine groaned, feet propped up on the Round Table in a way that should’ve made Arthur angry, but he was too busy being worried at the moment. He could barely feel one whole emotion at once, much less two. 

“I hate to admit it, but Gwaine’s right,” Percival cut in, looking mighty annoyed at the words that had just come out of his mouth. “Elyan told me that he talked to Gwen about it.” 

“And what would Gwen have to say that would help the situation?” Arthur was quickly losing his mind. How on Earth was he supposed to deal with this lot if Merlin wasn’t there for him to make faces at? 

“Well,” Elyan began, leaning forward. “It’s less what Gwen said and more about what Morgana said.” 

“I don’t care who said it, just tell--” 

“You do know that Morgana has divining powers?” 

Arthur blinked. “I suppose.” 

“Well, after we fetched you, Gwen told me that Morgana did one last thing before her energy gave out,” Elyan said. “She tracked down Merlin with her magic.” 

“What did she even do that drained her so?” Arthur wondered, fear in his chest lessening in the slightest bit. He remembered the vaguest glimpses of flowers and glittery trees, but it was all fleeting, like a dream. That is, other than Merlin turning his back and running into the woods. Alone. “And Merlin’s safe then?” 

“When she checked on him, it seemed so,” Elyan offered with a shrug. “He was in the woods, making his way back to Camelot.” 

The King could feel some of the tension leaving him. At least that meant that Merlin was mostly intact as of recent report. But he couldn’t (wouldn’t) rest until he saw the evidence with his own two eyes. “Perfect,” he decided, standing up. “Let’s go and rescue the damsel.”

Chapter Text

Merlin heard them before he saw them. It would have been hard to miss, the pounding drumbeats of hooves, racing towards where he was taking his own sweet time getting untangled from a particularly possessive bush. 

“ Merlin !” It was Elyan, bright red cloak fluttering behind him like blood-red wings as he maneuvered his horse through low-hanging branches. “Are you alright?” 

“As much as ever,” the warlock laughed, attempting a smile while simultaneously trying to free himself. 

“You’re alive!” Gwaine called out, catching up to Elyan before dismounting and rushing over.  

“Unfortunately,” Merlin started half-heartedly as the knights manhandled him in an overly macho attempt of showing their affection. 

Percival, Lancelot, and Leon rode up as the warlock finally managed to escape Gwaine and Elyan’s crushing vice grips, trailed by a very bashful looking Arthur who looked as though he was trying desperately to be interested in the uneven bark of a nearby tree. 

“We were concerned,” Leon began, managing to simultaneously sound like a disappointed father and a fretting mother. “You can’t just run off, it could be a security threat!” 

“You guys are far too optimistic. You won’t dispose of me that easily,” Merlin laughed, trying to pat his hair down from his incident in the brambles, ultimately failing in the endeavor as it continued to stick up rebelliously. 

“Pity,” Arthur grumbled, speaking for the first time since arriving as he dismounted. “I thought for sure I had finally managed to get rid of you.” 

“Oh please,” Gwaine snorted. “Her highness here was having separation anxiety. You should have heard him—“

Lancelot slapped a hand over the reckless knight’s mouth, hoping to save his life as Arthur cast him a heated glare. “I wasn’t having separation anxiety ,” he argued, attempting nonchalance but not succeeding in the least. “Leon’s right, Merlin is a security liability. He knows… things. And someone could get to him out here.” 

Elyan rolled his eyes but wisely kept his mouth shut. “Of course, sire,” Percival replied, face screwed up in an attempt to not smile in the face of their emotionally constipated king. 

“So, Mer lin, it would be in the interest of Camelot for you to never pull something like that again.” Arthur crosses his arms over his chest, but ended up looking more defensive than intimidating. 

“And here I was thinking that I might be rid of you one day,” Merlin sighed in response, eyes twinkling but something lacking in his smile. “Does this mean I’m stuck with you forever?” 

“For as long as you live, I suppose,” the King replied, jaw set tightly.

“Possessive much,” Gwaine mumbled under his breath, but it thankfully went unnoticed. 

“Dealing with you cuts years off of my life span anyways,” Merlin said, throwing his hands up. “So I suppose I won’t be around for much longer anyways.”

The words brought a soft smile to Arthur’s face, and thought the two of them were standing feet apart with knights surrounding them from both sides, the others all felt like they were intruding on something personal. Elyan wrinkles his nose in feigned disgust as Percival pretended to gag. Gwaine looked between the two repressed idiots with shining eyes, as though watching a jousting match.

“Sire, perhaps we should head back,” Leon suggested, clearing his throat uncomfortably. “It would be best to be out of the woods before nightfall.”

"I don't want to be stuck with these two in the dark," Elyan mumbled under his breath. 

Percival snorted in response. "Their flirting is intolerable in broad daylight as it is." Thankfully, they were quiet enough that neither Arthur or Merlin could hear them.

“Right. Of course.” Arthur said with a stilted cough, turning around, cape whipping around with him. Merlin, nearly reflexively, followed, finding his natural place walking beside the King's horse. 

“About earlier, with Morgana—“ the manservant began, avoiding Arthur’s gaze. 

“What on Earth happened?” The blonde asked. “My dear sister knocked me out with that sorcery of hers.”

At the “s” word, Merlin nearly flinched, but froze as he processed the lack of contempt that was usually packed into it. It sounded nearly… playful. “Did she,” he said carefully, trying to search Arthur’s face as the other knights began to mount. 

“All I remember is you leaving,” Arthur said sulkily, face screwing up in the familiar sneer of someone slighted by a sibling. 

“Oh, it was just… a prank. That’s all.” Merlin laughed, avoiding the King’s pressing look. 

“A prank,” the blonde repeated disbelievingly. “You’re telling me that there’s a prank Morgana pulled that was enough to make you run away ?” 

Merlin simply shrugged non-committedly. 

“I can’t even get you to leave by firing you!” Arthur said, sounding rather offended. “What in heaven’s name did she do??”

“As if I’d give you that kind of information,” the warlock grinned toothily, only to be met by something that was nearly a pout by the sovereign of his kingdom. It was nearly comical. 

“I know you two are occupied, but we should really be getting back,” Percival remarked, sharing an impish look with the world’s worst influence, Gwaine himself. 

“Wanna ride with me?” Lancelot asked, trotting up beside Merlin. 

“No, it’s quite alright,” the warlock said quickly, shaking his head. “It’s not far.”

“You’ll slow us all down,” Arthur quipped, though he looked frankly concerned. 

“If we get moving we can get back in time even with Merlin walking,” Elyan shrugged, glancing at the round sun nearing the horizon. 

Lancelot looked down at Merlin, concerned. “Are you sure, or are you just being overly polite?”

What will they think if I showed up riding with a knight? They’d think him the Round Table’s whore, no doubt. But the manservant only grinned, chasing the probing words of the other servants out of his mind. “Lance, have you ever known me to be polite ?” 

The ride back to Camelot was awkward to say the least. It was slow going, first off, and to add to that, Arthur kept on staring off in random directions and rolling his eyes as if it wasn’t his idea in the first place to come retrieve his precious manservant who had been doing reasonably well on his own. Merlin wasn’t helping, tagging alongside the King and barely speaking. It was utterly out of character, and if not for the sheer amount of times he kept tripping on stray rocks and tree roots, Lancelot would have had reason to believe that his warlock friend had been replaced by some other being. 

Behind Lancelot, Gwaine and Percival kept on shoving and giggling to each other like prepubescent squires, apparently having a great time with whatever they were conspiring about. Elyan rode up next to Lance, lips pursed and looking thoroughly irritated. “Do you think Leon is okay?”

Lancelot turned to look back at the redhead trailing the group, hand fixed at the hilt of his sword. “He looks rather constipated,” he said finally.

“I was thinking more like he bit a lemon, but I suppose that’s equally accurate,” Elyan conceded with a mischievous grin. “Do you think he needs therapy perhaps? He seems rather traumatized lately.”

“The ones who need real therapy are prancing about right in front of us,” Lancelot scoffed, eyes drifting to the two idiots riding at the front of party, blissfully oblivious. 

“What even went on with Morgana?” Elyan asked, frowning. 

“I was thinking Gwen might tell you, of all people.” Lancelot sighed. “I don’t know what on Earth is enough that she managed to make Merlin leave like that.” 

“You should talk to him,” Elyan mused. “He seems to tell you everything.” 

“I will,” Lance said, expression thoughtful. “No promises, though.” 

Night seemed to fall just as they reached Camelot, stars twinkling overhead. Arthur was still awkwardly stalking at the front of the pack, trying in vain to appear disinterested while coming back from a highly personally motivated quest. The rambunctious hustle-bustle of the day had died down and was replaced by the muted noises of drunkards making their first rounds in and out of taverns and poorly disguised brothels. 

Arthur, Merlin, and the knights made their way through the cramped lower town with their horses in tow, unsuccessfully trying to attract the least amount of attention possible. 

“Hello, Gertrude! How are you?” Gwaine greeter a chubby maid with a wink. The girl blushed and barely managed to stutter out an answer before the group was moving on and Gwaine was flirting with another smitten maiden. 

“At this rate, it’ll be day by the time we get back,” Merlin sighed. 

“Oh, you should be glad we didn’t do through the west road then,” Elyan sighed. “The last time I made that mistake, the Royal Harlot here stopped at the every other house to greet a lover.”

“Every other house!” Leon exclaimed, looking rather appalled. “I knew Gwaine enjoys company, but surely even he isn’t capable of seducing that many people!”

“Tell that to the Waker brothers,” Lancelot snorted. “He managed to sweep all three of them off of their feet: the butcher, the blacksmith, and the florist.”

“Perhaps the greatest threat to Camelot then is Gwaine himself,” Arthur said, eyes following his knight as he made his rounds through the dim light of the streets to greet boatloads of people none of the others had ever seen. “Legislation may be in order.”

“I’ll motion to instate a quota, sire,” Leon, the ever-serious and ever-faithful, suggested. “It’ll limit the amount of victims that result from our dear friend’s overly masculine wiles.” 

Arthur nodded in satisfaction. “So be it.”

By the time the castle gates clanged shut behind them, the sun had sunk completely out of the sky and everything had been coated in a thick layer of darkness. The knights quickly began to make off, taking the horses with them and exchanging meaningful looks as they did so. 

“Back to your chambers then, sire?” Merlin asked, his lopsided grin already fixed in place. 

Arthur hesitated for a moment. “I’ll— I’ll prepare for bed myself today.”

Merlin raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Is that so? When did you learn to do that?”

The King fixed him with a hard look. “Ha, ha. Honestly, I should have you replace the court jester himself! Your sense of humor is absolutely delightful.”

“And I’m honored at such high praise,” Merlin shot back. “After all, court jester has been my objective since before I unfortunately became your manservant. The time has finally come.” 

“Oh shut it,” the blonde sighed. “You are insufferable .”

“One of my many redeeming qualities.” 

Arthur rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “You are dismissed for the night. I’m giving you ten seconds to get out of my sight before you end up in the stocks, Mer lin.” 

“Don’t mind if I do then,” the brunet grinned, giving a little sarcastic salute. “Be careful not to asphyxiate yourself with your own tunic!” He called out before ducking around a corner, his impish laugh leaving Arthur failing to fight the soft smile that took over his lips and an echo in the corridor behind him. 

The first thing that went through Merlin’s head as he left the suddenly-self-sufficient Arthur behind was absolute panic. If he were to be asked about what, he was fairly sure he wouldn’t even be able to answer. There were so many different things that raced through his mind-- I should go find Gaius, I haven’t seen him since yesterday-- is Arthur really alright? He’s acting strange-- Is Morgana annoyed with me?--Did any of the servants see us coming in? He shuffled a few aimless steps down the hall before he stopped dead in his tracks again . Morgana. 

Oh gods, she must be utterly livid. The thought had Merlin’s blood freezing in his veins. Should I go apologize? Or run for my life? Before he had even consciously come to a decision, he was backing away, feet leading him anywhere but forward, further into the cavernous winding halls of the castle. The cold night air was heavy around him as he continued to walk away as quickly as his feet would take him, ignoring the guards and bright torches stationed along the walls, instead paying intense attention to his own feet. 

This is the best choice, he told himself. Let her anger fade a little. Stay away. No confrontation. Memories of the morning kept resurfacing, Morgana’s hurt and confused face, Gwen’s uncharacteristic outrage, the whole ridiculous situation-- maybe he had overreacted? Morgana wouldn’t go that far to be cruel, would she? The more he thought about it, the more ridiculous it seemed. Regardless of what you think, the world doesn’t revolve around you, Merlin, the warlock thought to himself. They probably don’t even know about the servant gossip. Why on Earth would they? 

The new line of reasoning gave him pause. Last time I let things fester like this Morgana turned on us. He stopped again, this time in one of the outer halls where the guards standing silently against the walls stared at him in their boredom. I can’t make the same mistake twice. 

“You good there, Merlin?” One of the guards called out. The manservant looked over his shoulder to see Martin, one of the men that frequently accompanied Arthur’s party on hunting trips. 

“I’m alright,” he mumbled distractedly, turning on his heel. “Just realized I have something to do.” And with that, he took off in the opposite direction, back where he had fled from earlier. This time, I’ll make it right. 

“Are you feeling better yet?” Gwen asked, rubbing a hand over Morgana’s hair as the sorceress groaned, a migraine hitting her hard. 

“Since you’re here, darling, it’s better,” the witch mumbled. “Next time I see either of those nitwits, I’m going to murder them.” 

“If they weren’t that dense, they would have already gotten it on, dear.” The brunette replied back softly, fingers unceasing in soothing Morgana’s headache. “Your plans were rather genius, in my opinion.” 

Morgana grinned, lips quirking up sharply as she looked up into her lover’s beautiful warm eyes. “Come here, you.” Pale fingers curled around a bronzed nape, pulling the maid’s face down. Gwen looked sufficiently amused, one hand curling into the fabric of Morgana’s gown as she slotted her lips against the witch’s. 

Morgana smiled into the kiss, nearly breaking it before she pushed Gwen onto her back, skirts tangled around them as she tried to maneuver herself the two of them into a vaguely-sexy position. 

Gwen giggled as she lost an arm to the mess of blankets around her torso, wrapping the other one around Morgana’s neck and pulling her down. A bright blush was still coloring her cheeks, but any hesitance that may have lingered in her expression was washed out by the bright and jittery excitement housed in her eyes. “Are you sure you want to do this?” 

Morgana has to bite back an incredulous laugh. “There is nothing in the world that I would rather do. Innuendo fully intended.” 

The maidservant bit her lip at that, bronzer skin flushing a tad darker. “...you might need to show me the ropes then, dear,” she said, voice dipping to a whisper that set Morgana’s blood on fire. “I’m a fast learner though.” 

Thump. Thump thump. 

Letting out a string of curses, Morgana sat back on her heels, fingers trailing in the folds of Gwen’s bunched skirts. “Who the fuck is bothering me now—“

“It could be important,” Gwen insisted, looking apologetic as she slipped past Morgana’s reaching hands to push herself off of the bed. “I’ll get it.”

“Whoever’s on the other side of the door is going to have their head hung up for decoration in my chambers—“

“Oh hush ,” Gwen scolded, a soft smile creeping up on her face before she turned away, restless hands smoothing down her dress and hair. Morgana continued to grumble to herself, combing through the deepest recesses of her memory for any societally acceptable curse that she could use on whoever the cock-block was. Gwen, meanwhile, was blissfully oblivious to her lover’s scheming, instead putting on a bright smile and opening the door. “ Merlin ?”

Arthur walked away fast as his feet would take him, looking over his shoulder periodically as if he was a trespasser in his own palace. The inner halls were only sparsely guarded, so he managed to slipped through without attracting too much attention, trying to look like he wasn’t doing anything suspicious. This is what my life has come to-- sneaking around my own palace. 

Turning a corner suddenly, Arthur found himself in front of the very closed door he had been seeking. Swallowing, he knocked, feeling a sort of apprehension he hadn’t felt since he was a child and trying his best not to get scolded by his father. His knuckles had barely grazed the door when it swung open, a salacious figure draping herself across the threshold. 

“Lady Genevieve,” Arthur breathed, anxiety lacing his tone. 

“I hope you aren’t here to discuss your grave shortcomings again, dear King.” the woman said simply, sharp eyes looking him up and down judgmentally. 

“They aren’t shortcomings, ” Arthur hissed, trying to wedge past her into the room, pulling her with him by the elbow. Genevieve followed his lead, looking rather amused as she tugged the door shut behind them. “It’s just a particular recurring issues I have.” 

“Issues,” Genevieve laughed, walking over to her bedside table and picking up a glittering glass of champagne. She's far too excited about this,   Arthur thought for a moment, but then again, what was normal about this woman at all? For the first time, he noticed she was already in her dressing gown, the immodest robes fitting her figure astoundingly well. He dragged his eyes back up to her face to see her watching his flushed face knowingly. 

“So are you going to help or not?” 

“Calm yourself,” Genevieve said simply, pouring another place of champagne and offering it to the King with her delicate tapered fingers. “Relax a little, sire. You’re ruining the ambiance.” 

Arthur took the drink begrudgingly, swishing it about in his glass and watching it catch light in the flickering candlelight of the room. “If just relaxing was an option, I would,” he said finally. “This isn’t just something that just goes away. ” 

“Let me take care of you,” the older woman grinned, mirth dancing across her countenance. “You just have to trust me.” 

“Fine,” Arthur sighed. “Get on with it.” 

“Impatient.” 

The king leveled Genevieve a glare that had her raising her hands in apparent surrender. “Alright, alright! I thought you might possibly be interested in me as a person, but I’m afraid not.” She dropped into the chair across from Arthur’s legs crossed and drink still stagnant in her right hand. “Alas, you’re only interested in what I can do for you.” 

“You know full well that isn’t true.” 

“I leave tomorrow, dear king. What will you do after that?” 

“What I’ve been doing all these years, obviously.” Arthur said the words as if they were a given: a mere fact of the universe. 

Genevieve rolled her eyes. “I must say, you Pendragons are really something else.” She leaned back, brown eyes staring unblinkingly at Arthur for a long moment. “I’ll do my part. I do have some new ideas, if those would help.” 

“I don’t need any of your new ideas,” Arthur stressed, setting his drink down and leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “I can’t take this anymore.” 

Groaning, Lady Genevieve reached up to massage her temple. “Lords, give me strength.” 

“Are you alright?” Gwen asked, patting Merlin down like a worried mother. When no blood or apparent injuries were found, she stepped back, giving him a thorough look over. Merlin was about to answer with the typical ‘I’m fine’, but the words never made it out of his mouth. He felt it before he even realized what had happened-- Gwen stepped back, hand flushed pink matching Merlin’s cheek where she’d slapped him. 

“What was that for?!” he sputtered indignantly, trying to ignore Morgana cackling like a madwoman, laying across her bed. 

“You had us all worried sick, Merlin!” Gwen yelled, looking more panicked at possibly having actually hurt her friend than angry at him.  

“A scolding would’ve sufficed,” the manservant grumbled, readjusting his neckerchief sulkily. 

“Oh, stop your grousing. Nobody wants to hear it,” Morgana groaned. “And what are you doing here, anyways?” 

“I needed to speak with you,” Merlin said, looking rather uncomfortable. “If it’s okay? I hope I wasn’t… interrupting anything.” 

Morgana gave Merlin a death glare. “Don’t worry about it, you only ruined one of the best moments of my life.” 

The manservant seemed to hold back a wince, rubbing the back of his neck. “Should I come back another time..?”

“Don’t bother,” Morgana sighed. “Just get on with it.” Gwen shot her lover a pointed look, but the witch paid her no mind, refocusing on the man nervously shifting from foot to foot in front of her. “Spit it out already.” 

“I…” Merlin swallowed. “I’m sorry. I just… I wanted to apologize. So… I’m sorry.” 

“Did you go drinking in the woods?” Morgana asked, crossing her arms. “You sound awfully tipsy.” 

The manservant took a moment to recompose himself with a deep breath. “This morning. I overreacted. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have blown up like that.” 

Morgana blinked, looking entirely dumbfounded. “You really don’t need--” 

“Wait,” Merlin interrupted, shaking his head. “Let me finish. Please.” Gwen looked over at the witch with wide eyes, sensing the increasing tension in the room. Merlin looked down, desperately avoiding eye contact as his shaking hands gripped his tunic as if to anchor himself to the spot. 

“Merlin?” Gwen began, voice weighed with concern, but the manservant didn’t seem to hear her.

“There’s a lot I need to tell you Morgana,” he began. “I understand if you’re upset with me. I really do. I deserve it.” 

“What in the Gods’ name are you going on about?” 

“I should have told you ages ago,”  her continued, almost crazed in how he sounded like he was talking to himself more than he was speaking to Morgana. “But please, understand why I didn’t. I was scared. Terrified. For you, for me, for us. Things are different now but-- but then…” 

“Merlin, you sound like a madman,” Gwen said, voice barely above a whisper. 

He said nothing in response. His fists were clenched, gaze stubbornly glued to the floor. “Merlin,” Morgana ventured, voice much softer than it had been in the weeks since she’d arrived. 

“I was a coward, Morgana,” Merlin said softly, jaw clenched. “And you suffered because of it.” 

“Merlin," Gwen began again, but stopped short as Merlin looked up to make eye contact with Morgana. The maidservant’s breath was stolen from her as she looked at Merlin, face set in that stubborn expression he always wore. Except this time, he… “Merlin, your eyes…” 

Merlin was staring straight on at Morgana, unblinking, with eyes that glowed bright gold . Gwen  had seen many a sorcerer in her time in the palace, and hell, she was even courting one as of now, yet she didn’t think she had ever seen eyes burn that bright in her whole life. It was otherworldly, and it struck her with a force the suggested that there may be more secrets and power hiding in plain sight than she had initially thought. 

“What do you mean you already knew??” Merlin asked, jaw hanging open in disbelief. 

Morgana was leaning back on the bed, looking comically at ease. “You’re not exactly subtle, darling.” 

“But-- but I went to such lengths to hide it--” 

The witch let out a bark of laughter. “Keep telling yourself that. Everyone under the sun in Camelot must know by now.” 

“Even the knights? “ the manservant asked, expression carefully guarded. “And Arthur?” 

“The knights most definitely do,” Morgana shrugged. “Or I would hope they do. Even they shouldn’t be that blind.” She seemed to consider Merlin’s second question for a moment. “As for my idiot brother, he probably can’t identify a sorcerer if he paraded naked in front of him. Which I suppose you do often enough.” Merlin blanched at that but was paid no mind. 

“ I  didn’t know,” Gwen said with an offended sniff. “I thought we were best friends, Merlin!” 

“I’m sorry,” the warlock replied, looking too much like a scolded puppy. “I swear I was going to tell you eventually.” 

“We've known each other for ten years!" The maid shot back, crossing her arms.   “When were you going to decide that it was the “right” time?” 

“I don’t know, okay!” Merlin groaned, throwing his hands up. “If the others had told me they knew then maybe I would have outed myself!” 

“I thought you were being fairly obvious,” Morgana shrugged. “Why else would I come to you for help all the time?” 

There was a long pause as Merlin pondered over her words. “Wait,” he mumbled, eyes boring into her. “I… so you already knew? Back then? Before all of this?” 

The witch cocked her head. “Yes.” Merlin went to open his mouth again, but she gave him a sharp look before continuing. “So stop blaming yourself. It’s not your fault. You were scared, and rightfully so. And I was a coward too. I should have told you I knew, or… or listened to you. There’s so many things I should have done. That I didn’t do.” 

“Don’t blame yourself,” the warlock cut in, but he went ignored. 

“Shut up,” Morgana shook her head. “What happened is entirely on me. I can’t blame my hatred on anyone but myself. Nothing you say can change my mind.” 

The warlock swallowed, looking up at the former lady with teary eyes. “You’re not a bad person, Morgana. You’re one of the kindest people I’ve ever met.” The witch didn’t say a word, staring stubbornly off in another direction as Gwen smiled sadly at her, making her way over to her side and leaning closer. “Believe me when I say this. You aren’t defined by your past. We've all done terrible things. I know that you are pure of heart. I know you’ve always been. I believe in you.” 

Fro the first time in a long time, the facade Morgana had been parading around since her return to Camelot disappeared, replaced by the familiar face of the Morgana everyone used to know. The old resolution, innocence, and fear, all came to surface again. 

“Thank you, Merlin.” The words her soft, and thus, meaningful all the same. “Thank you.” 

There was a long moment of silence again as Merlin awkwardly-third-wheeled the cute display that Gwen and Morgana, who were undoubtedly the power couple of Camelot, were putting on. With a start, Gwen seemed to realize that Merlin was still there, pulling away from the embrace slightly. 

Merlin coughed, getting up and backing up towards the door. “It was nice talking to you, Morgana,” he said eyes flitting around the room in an effort not to intrude on Gwen and Morgana’s moment. “I’m glad some things are out in the open now.” 

“Don’t leave just yet,” Morgana said, getting up from the bed. “You’ve already interrupted one romantic moment today, don’t be so shy ruining another.”  A smirk danced on her lips, looking finally more like herself again as she reached over to the bedside table. There, glittering starkly against the dark wood, was the ring that she had proposed to Merlin with that morning. It was still terrifyingly gaudy and glittery enough to function as a mirror. “Here.” 

Merlin looked up to see Morgana dropped the ring into his hand. “What--” 

“Give it to Arthur,” the witch said with a saucy smile.”The proposal would be better coming form you, anyways.” 

“I don’t know if -- Arthur-- I mean… we're not…” 

“Don't kid yourself,” Morgana sighed. “Your magic and your puppy-dog love for Arthur are the two worst kept secrets of Camelot.” The warlock turned bright read at the accusation, sputtering indignantly as Morgana turned her back, waving off his protests. “Go get ‘em, Emrys.” 

The worst kept secrets of Camelot , huh? Merlin turned the statement over and over in his mind, trying t o ignore the panic rising in his chest. E veryone k nows about my magic? And about…? Honestly, he wasn’t sure what was worse. To an extent, he was more ready to get burnt at stake th an to even begin to admit that there was something… going on in his brain concerning Arthur Pendragon . B ecause that was absolutely ridiculous, of course. 

The ring Morgana had given him felt like it was burning a hole in his pocket. What does she expect me to do, pull what she did this mornin g and propose to him? The hallways were unusually quiet and that just made Merlin’s panic escalate. He was all alone and Merlin w ithout supervisi on was not a good idea. Why am I even thinking about proposing to him anyways? The idea was utterly absurd. Morgana’s ju st getting into my head, Merlin told himself firmly, trying to dismiss any   of the crazy ideas that entered his brain immediately. I need to stop while I’m still ahead. 

I’ll just…. Go and check on Arthur. He's incompetent, he's probably stuck in a shirt or something. Then I can sleep on this. With a new purpose to his step, Merlin took off down the hall towards Arthur’s chambers. The guards watched his blankly as he paraded by, accustomed to the hurried nature of Merlin’s everyday activities by this point. Darkness was setting in: an inky blankness that seemed to swallow the castle and soften all the edges of the rough stones making up its walls.

Merlin knew every single nook and cranny of it after having spent so much time serving Arthur, so he let his feet guide him as the guards started thinning out, leaving the mostly uninhabited halls leading up the center of the castle quiet. The ring Morgana had given him bounced in his pocket with every step, making unwelcome thoughts cloud his head. Maybe I have a chance, he considered for a moment. Morgana and Gwen seemed sure of it. And Lancelot. He thought back to all the times when, for a moment, he considered whether Arthur might possibly hold something more than friendly feelings for him. All those times Merlin had caught him looking away, a brush of a hand, the hint of a smile. Does it all mean something?  He slowed, feeling the metal of the ring through the thin fabric of his trousers. Maybe I should… 

Somewhere down the corridor, there was the loud telltale squeaking of a door that echoed and bounced off the narrow walls, interrupting his thought process. “Thank you, M’Lady.”  Merlin froze. He would know Arthur’s voice anywhere. 

“Any time, sweet prince,” a sultry voice replied. Merlin ducked around a corner, trying to place the woman’s voice. Where have I heard her before?  

“I’ll come see you off tomorrow,” Arthur continued. “So don’t go riding off into the sunset before I get a chance to say goodbye.” 

“So chivalrous, Arthur,” the woman laughed. “I’ll hold you to that.” 

Merlin froze. Is that Lady Genevieve? The noblewoman was set to leave the next evening after having stayed in the castle for a little over three weeks. He’d known she had some strange sort of closeness to Arthur, but not like this. 

The door creaked closed once more and familiar footsteps began echoing down the hall in Merlin’s direction. Heart racing in his throat, Merlin turned on his heel, walking as fast as he could in the opposite direction. He was still holding onto the ring tight in his palm, but it just felt like it was taunting him. Merlin’s heartbeat was racing in his ears, blood rushing to his face. I’ve been so stupid. Why did I ever think that I had a fucking chance? 

“Merlin?” Arthur’s voice was echoing down the hall behind him as he was spotted. Merlin accelerated, trying to get away from the object of his misery. “Oi, are you deaf?!” Prat. Idiot. “Come back here!” 

Merlin kept walking.

Chapter Text

Merlin found himself in the winding servant halls of the palace, the narrow, dark passageways effectively sucking up all the minimal light from the moon and flickering torches and creating a dark, hellish void. 

It was fitting to his mood. 

He wandered to the windows in the corridor that overlooked the gardens of the palace, guarded by rotating groups of soldiers below. The lot of which were falling asleep at the moment, it seemed. Palace security needs serious redesigning, the warlock lamented, shoving his hands in his pockets as he leaned back against the rough stone wall. No wonder I get in and out so easy. 

The thought was quickly dismissed, however, as others entered his mind. Lady Genevieve and Arthur, huh? By all means, it was a good match. While she was significantly older than him, (though maybe Arthur liked that) she was still quite attractive with her voluptuous curves and fancy outfits that dazzled the court time and time again. I’m happy for them. I really am. 

Even in his own head, it sounded like a blatant lie. Why shouldn’t I be? She’s a perfectly good person and would treat Arthur well. 

He swallowed. But so would I. 

Even just thinking it felt poisonous, like treason. As if allowing himself to consciously consider such words were the formula to his very own doom. Merlin closed his eyes, trying to block out the faint echoing sounds of the night in the barren halls. What was I even expecting? 

The ring Morgana had given him was still cradled in his palm, cutting into his skin with how tightly he’d been clutching it. Becoming conscious of it, he let it fall from his hand into the bottom of his pocket, feeling embarrassed and bitter about the entire situation. I can’t believe I was going to tell him. He let out a shaky breath, wrapping his arms around himself. I can’t believe that I thought I had a chance. 

“Merlin?” 

The brunet looked to where the voice had come from, nearly jumping when he realized he had been snuck up on while deliberately trying to hide. “James?” 

The stableboy looked like he’d just been woken up, with his straw-like hair all mussed up and sticking up in every given direction. He was holding a candle in one hand, watching Merlin with questioning eyes. 

“What are you doing out here?” he asked, but Merlin could only hear his words from earlier. Defiled. Ravished. Minx. 

Trying his best to conceal his contempt, the warlock looked away, fixing his eyes on something out of reach in the darkness. “None of your business.” 

James snorted, taking a step closer. “Had a fight with the King, did you?” 

Merlin flinched, hating that James was nearly right despite all the misconceptions he had about the situation. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” 

Another step closer. Merlin could smell the stables on James. Much like he expected, it was not the most attractive smell. “I would.” The brunet finally looked up to see James far too close, smiling with slightly crooked teeth that Merlin had once found endearing. 

“What are you doing, James?” He asked, standing his ground stubbornly and crossing his arms over his chest. 

“What do you think, Merlin?” The candle in James’ hand flickered and danced, the heat radiating off of it inconsequential in the cavernous halls of the palace. 

“Don’t you have things to do?” The warlock tried to ignore the rising repulsion in his throat and fixed the stableboy with a stern look. 

“Oh, don’t be so stand-offish, darling.” 

Merlin had to keep himself from gagging. “What the hell James--” He tried to move past him, but James only took a step closer, looking remarkably unbothered by the obvious disgust on the brunet’s face. 

“Come on, Merlin,” he said, as if he was asking for a harmless favor. “What’s wrong? You only spread your legs for nobles now?” 

“Shut the hell up,” Merlin hissed, pushing James back. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“I reckon I do,” James said, pushing Merlin back so his back hit the wall. “You think you’re so above us all now. Just because you slept your way up the ladder doesn’t make you special!” 

“I didn’t sleep my way up! You lot think you know everything with your little gossip mills!” the warlock snapped, gritting his teeth. “All you want is a fancy little story to entertain you in your dull lives!” 

“If it was a little story , why don’t you go ahead and tell me what you were doing overnight in the King’s chambers? Or why the knights all take care of you like you’re their mistress?” James looked as mad as if he were the one being cornered and not the other way around. “Or how about how you even have a job considering that you have absolutely nothing to offer!” 

“If you don’t--” 

“Shut up, Merlin!” James snarled, wrinkling his nose. “I won’t say a word to anyone. I’m not asking a lot of you.” He moved closer, one hand on Merlin’s shoulder and tracing the seam of his tunic down to his elbow. “What’s one more person?” 

Next thing Merlin knew, the candle that James had been holding was on the ground, broken cleanly in two and barely alight. James was on the ground next to it, holding his cheek where a bright red bruise was blooming. “Sire,” he breathed, hazel eyes wary and wide. 

Arthur looked down on him, looking like a king even without any of his usual finery. “Get out,” the blonde grit out, eyes steely and unblinking. “Before I do something worse.” James scrambled to pick up the candle before Arthur kicked it away. “Don’t bother. Pack your bags and leave by first light if you know what’s good for you.” 

James paled considerably, but there was still vague contempt swimming in his eyes. Merlin could guess what he was thinking. The King appears to save his favorite whore. Still, seeing the stableboy limping and stumbling away with his knees knocking together was quite the entertaining experience. 

After James rounded the corner and disappeared from sight, it was entirely silent for a long moment. Arthur cleared his throat, urging Merlin to speak first. “You didn’t have to do that,” the brunet said finally, not making eye contact. “I was handling it.”

“Not very well, from what I could tell.” 

“I was doing just fine.” Merlin said, tone clipped. 

Arthur snorted. “A ‘thank you would suffice.” 

“A thank you for what, pray tell?” Merlin asked, throwing his hands up. 

“For saving you , you dolt!” 

“ Saving me? ” Merlin laughed, an incredulous expression crossing his face. “I don’t get a thank you when I save you!” 

“When on earth has that ever happened?” 

Merlin huffed, crossing his arms. “You’d be surprised.” 

“Sure,” Arthur conceded sarcastically, falling into silence. Neither of them said a word, and after a long moment, Merlin finally found the strength to look up at him to find bright blue eyes flitting over him with thinly veiled concern. “Are you alright?” 

Merlin swallowed, finding it difficult to speak under such pointed scrutiny. “More or less.” 

Arthur didn’t look as if he believed him. “Has this… happened before?” 

The warlock shrugged. “Now and then.” Catching Arthur’s face morphing to one intent on murder, he quickly backtracked. “It’s not as bad as you think it is, Arthur. It’s pretty normal. For servants.” He paused. “I’ve never let it go too far.” Merlin didn’t know why he felt the need to tell Arthur that he’d never really accepted anyone’s advances. Not like he would care, with his Lady Genevieve and all. 

“Is that so,” the king mused cryptically. “You sure that you’re okay?” His left hand drifted up to Merlin’s shoulder where James had latched onto him just minutes earlier. It was a strange sense of a deja vu. 

It felt almost like Arthur was going to hug him. 

The air was thick with tension that made Merlin feel like he was going to choke. “It’ll blow over soon,” he said, voice in a lower whisper. “They get over gossip pretty quickly around here.” 

“Is this about… that night?” the way the blonde said it made it sound almost like something really had happened, if Merlin dared to let himself believe it. 

“I guess,” the brunet laughed, fighting the urge to shrug off Arthur’s hand that kept lingering on him. It was so hard to pull himself away with the object of his affections standing so damn close. “They all think that I’ve slept my way up to being your manservant.” The words came out far more bitter than Merlin had intended them to be. 

Arthur’s face darkened. “They think what ?” 

The brunet swallowed again, shaking his head. “It’s not important,” he said with a shrug. “Look at you, getting all worried. Be careful, or I’ll begin to think you actually don’t despise me.” The words came out dry and flat despite his best attempts. 

“You know it’s not like that,” Arthur retorted, expression hardened. His hand faltered, as if he was considering pulling Merlin closer for a moment before he let him go, his hand falling back to his own side. Part of Merlin was relieved, the other terribly disappointed. What on earth was I expecting anyways? 

Merlin gave him a small smile, trying his best to look like he meant it. “Don’t stress over it, Arthur,” he said. “It’ll be over soon enough. I can handle myself.” He stepped back, wondering if this was a good time to leave, before he did something he would regret. The image of Arthur leaving Lady Genevieve’s room was still fresh, which, coupled with the ring still sliding around in his pocket, served to make Merlin nauseous and in the need of a long, lonely walk. Arthur watched him step away, not saying a word. “I’ll take my leave then?” 

The king looked up, something resolute in his solid blue eyes. “Pack your bags by first light, Merlin.” 

The warlock gaped. “Are you trying to fire me again?!” 

Arthur laughed, mirth crossing his expression for the first time that day. “I told you that I couldn’t get rid of you if I tried,” he said, something undeniably soft in his expression. “I’m not firing you, nitwit. Though I really should.” 

“Then what am I packing for?” 

“Let’s take a hunting trip,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Go and let the first order of knights know. We’ll leave at dawn.” 

With that, the king turned on his heel, walking away and leaving Merlin with more questions than answers. 

“Well this is going splendidly ,” Elyan sighed, squinting in the light of the bright afternoon sun. 

“I already said I was sorry,” Merlin grumbled, though everyone was no doubt aware that he was not apologetic in the least for having scared away every prey that they had had a chance to catch. 

From the front of the group, Arthur scoffed and looked over his shoulder. “Liar, you did it on purpose!” 

“If you’re so sure of that, sire , why do you even bring me on these blasted trips anyway? There has to be some other servant who enjoys the horrid sport of murdering innocent animals for fun,” Merlin snapped back, tone light. 

Gwaine snickered, slapping Merlin on the back in appreciation as Arthur stuttered, at a loss for words to answer the somewhat reasonable question. “Trying to shirk your duties again, are you,” the king settled finally, shaking his head. “If you want to eat today, I suggest you shut up. There’s deer tracks on the trail.” Without even giving Merlin a chance to respond, he galloped ahead, leaving the knights and Merlin to follow suit. 

Night fell quicker than expected. Dusk came and went in the span of barely an hour, taking the orange sunlight of the evening with it and leaving nothing but glittering stars on the dark blanket of a sky overhead. 

Elyan and Leon had been setting up camp while Percival, Lancelot, and Arthur got to work on the freshly killed deer. Merlin looked at it with sad eyes as he dumped the wood he’d gathered from the forest where he had begun to set up the fire pit. He’d been so close to scaring it away, but Arthur had gotten faster with his shots as of the late. Unsuccessfully, he tried to swallow his guilt over the issue and instead distracted himself with his work. 

“Can’t wait to eat,” Gwaine said, sitting down on a rock across from him with a wide grin. 

“I haven’t even gotten the fire started, Gwaine,” the brunet sighed, rearranging the wood and picking up stones. 

“Just anticipating,” the knight shrugged. “It’s a pity you were born a man. You would’ve made a lovely wife, let me say.” 

Merlin sat back on his heels, expression duly unamused. “Don’t you have something to do?” 

“Other than you, you mean?” 

The warlock let out a groan at that and went back to trying to start the fire, cursing under his breath when he could hardly make a spark. If only Gwaine weren’t staring straight at him… What did Morgana say? That the knights all know about me? Merlin snuck a glance at Gwaine, who was still watching him intently. The others all seemed occupied with their respective duties… This is stupid, he tried to tell himself. What if Gwaine doesn’t know ? 

The thought was frightening. He could almost see himself being burnt at stake already. Arthur hasn’t done that in years, he told himself. It’s banishment at most. And with Morgana here, he wouldn’t be hypocritical like that. But deep down, Merlin knew that wasn’t the fear he had. Arthur will think I betrayed him. He’ll never trust me again. 

He looked back at Gwaine, who was wearing an infuriating smirk. “See something you like?” 

“You wish,” Merlin said, a soft smile dancing on his lips. If he freaks out, then I can just play dumb. Like the fire reflected in my eyes or something… he considered the situation again. He’s one of my oldest friends. He wouldn’t run me through or anything, would he? Merlin swallowed, deciding he needed to take a leap of faith. He squared his shoulders, striking the stones against each other while simultaneously whispering a spell under his breath. He looked up at Gwaine a split second before the glow in his eyes faded, the newborn fire sparking and dancing immediately in between them. 

Gwaine had surely been looking the whole time, but somehow, he didn’t seem to notice, instead turning suddenly and looking over his shoulder to see Arthur plunging a knife into the deer to gut it. “Looks like they might be in need of my assistance,” he said hurriedly, getting up and brushing himself off. “Why don’t you go fill up the waterskins, Merlin?” 

The brunet nodded numbly as Gwaine rushed off. What in the name of the Gods was that? 

“Want me to come with you, Merlin?” Elyan asked, getting up. “Camp’s set up.” 

“I’ll accompany you as well,” Leon said, looking rather miffed, though Merlin couldn’t tell what was the object of the mild-mannered knight’s annoyance. From the way he was standing, he had a hunch it must’ve been something Elyan had done. 

Eyeing the knights curiously, he sighed. “Alright, if you want to.” He took the pot he was to cook in and tucked it under his arm as Elyan and Leon both armed themselves with armfulls of waterskins. 

The walk to the river in the dark was treacherous, with roots and rocks scattered about haphazardly on the forest floor, but the knights knew it well enough that Merlin managed to make it after losing his balance only twice. It was a record, as far as he was concerned. 

Elyan and Leon were both conspicuously quiet as they filled the pot and waterskins, making Merlin feel as though they were waiting for him to say something. After waiting a few long minutes, he finally gave in, turning to face them. “All of you have been acting so strange lately.” 

“Strange? What makes you say that?” Elyan asked, voice coming out sounding rather nervous. 

Merlin raised an eyebrow and turned to Leon, fixing him with his best “Gaius eyebrow”. “What’s going on?” 

Leon flexed his jaw. “Merlin, it’s--” 

“ Nothing , Merlin, it’s nothing,” Elyan said, gritting his teeth and giving Leon a sharp look. 

“I’m not as dense as you seem to think I am,” Merlin grumbled. 

“I beg to differ,” Elyan quipped, earning a sharp glare from the servant. He put his hands up in mock surrender as Merlin rolled his eyes at him. 

“You all have been spending far too much time with Arthur,” he said. 

Leon snorted. “You want to keep him all to yourself, don’t you?” As soon as the words came out of his mouth, the redhead seemed to pale considerably, as if he couldn’t believe he had been the one to say that. 

Merlin looked at him in surprise, clearly having not expected that out of Leon of all people either. Elyan, clearing his throat, hid a smirk and reached down to haul a load of waterskins into his arms. “We should be getting back,” he said. 

“Right,” Leon said with a forced cough. “I can carry the pot.” 

“It’s alright,” Merlin said with pursed lips. “I’m not a girl .” 

Leon watched as Merlin hoisted the pot up on his bony hip, despite all his declarations looking like the absolute picture of a village girl. “Whatever you say,” he mumbled finally, gathered the last of the waterskins. “Let’s go.”

Elayn hiked up the sloped bank of the river first, looking back to see Merlin following up next. The moon reflected off of the rippling water in the pot and cast an ethereal white light on the forest floor. Merlin looked down at his feet, but it was difficult to find purchase when there was a large mass of water throwing off his center of balance. 

He wrinkled his nose as he concentrated on finding a foothold on the treacherous slope, stepping on a rock that was poking out of the mud and weeds. Immediately after he put his weight on it, he could feel it give. 

It was too late for him to do anything now-- he was falling forward in what felt like slow motion, and on dumb reflex, he reached out for the pot that was already falling out of his hands. 

His eyes glowed for a split second, casting a golden glow over the forest with his legendary power. The pot slowed in its descent, his foot found a tree roots to push himself up, and he reached out, grabbing the cooking ware before it fell to the ground and spilled, stumbling with its weight and falling to one knee on the even ground above the sloped riverbank. 

Oh, Triple Goddess help me. 

Elyan stared at him wordlessly. Leon was no doubt doing the same, if the poking gaze he could feel from behind him was any indication. What should I say? Merlin wondered idly. How fast could I dodge a sword?   A moment passed. And then another. Silence. 

“Well, that was rather lucky!” Elyan said finally as he let the waterskins fall from his arms in a pile. He reached out a hand to Merlin, pulling the full pot from his grasp. “Are you alright?” 

“Fine,” Merlin mumbled, searching the knight’s face. 

“Good thing we came with you,” Leon said, coming up from behind. “It would’ve been ugly if you’d fallen without us here.” 

“You should’ve let Leon carry the pot,” Elyan said jovially, handing it to the other knight as he talked. 

“If you’re alright, we should keep going,” Leon continued, suddenly quite talkative despite his usual stoic demeanor. 

“The others will chew us out if they don’t have food soon,” Elyan added. 

Leon shook his head. “Arthur would kill us first if anything happened to Merlin.” 

Elyan considered this, looking over at the manservant who had just managed to get up and dust himself off. “You’re alright?” 

“As I’ll ever be,” Merlin shrugged, gathering the waterskins Leon had set down as the trio began the trek back to camp once more. He looked at both of them suspiciously, but he couldn’t figure it out. Did they really not see anything? How dense can they even be? 

The deer, despite all of Merlin’s attempts to sulk and complain, was unfairly delicious. Arthur seemed particularly pleased, eating more intently than he usually did. 

“Looks like you’re enjoying yourself, sire,” Merlin remarked teasingly. 

“Let me enjoy a moment of peace for once,” Arthur mumbled through another spoonful. “Don’t fill up the air with your empty chatter.” 

“Just get married already,” Percival mumbled under his breath, shaking his head. 

“What was that?” Arthur asked, raising a questioning eyebrow. 

Percival cleared his throat. “Oh, nothing sire.” he nodded in Merlin’s direction. “Just compliments about the cooking, that’s all.” 

“Nobody can say that you’re bad at this, Merlin,” Elyan piped up, eyes sparkling. “Even Arthur has to admit that we’ve found your best talent.” 

“His masseur skills are up to par, last I heard,” Gwaine interjected with a lazy smile. “I’d like to try that out sometime. Figure out once in for all which of your skills reigns supreme.” 

Arthur nearly choked on his food. “Where’d you hear about that?” 

Gwaine pretended to be picking at his nails with his dagger, exuding nonchalance. “I have my sources, Princess.” 

The blonde looked like he had some choice words to say, but before he could get them out, Elyan stood up, brushing himself off. “It’s getting late, isn’t it? The bedrolls are all out already.” 

“Right,” Leon said, getting up in turn. Merlin watched them with narrowed eyes before he got up, feeling a strange premonition that something was off. As soon as he stepped away from the fire’s circle of warmth, the frigid air hit him like a slap, making him shiver through the thin layers of his clothes. 

The others began to clear out as Merlin made his way to the pile of bedrolls, looking for his. Until, that is, he realized that it wasn’t there. He searched through a couple of times, but there wasn’t anywhere for a whole bedroll to be hiding amidst so few. Maybe it’s still on one of the horse s? He trekked over to where the horses had been tied up, but none of them were still carrying anything. 

Where is it? Did I forget it back at Gaius’s? It was entirely possible-- he didn’t exactly have a great memory. If I say anything, Arthur’s going to hold this over my head forever. He made his way back to the firepit, where the other knights and Arthur had begun to lay their bedrolls out. Leon was sitting against a bolder on the outskirts of the clearing, hand on his hilt and his own bedroll spread out behind him and over his back for warmth. 

“I can stand watch first,” Merlin offered, stuffing his hands in his pockets. 

“It’s alright,” Leon began but the manservant cut him off again. 

“No, really. I feel a little restless, I can’t sleep.”

The knight looked at him as though he could see right through him. “Are you sure?” 

“Very sure.” 

Leon got up, seemingly curious but not saying a word. “If you say so.” 

Elyan, who had been loosening the laces of his boots, looked up at Merlin on the bolder with what looked like a barely concealed smile. That look is dangerous. “Say, Merlin, where’s your bedroll?” 

Merlin just blinked, unsure what to say when asked straight up. “Uh…” You’ve told bigger lies than this! Think of something! “I left it back with the horses,” he chuckled awkwardly. “You know me, I’m forgetful!”

“Oh, let me go fetch it for you then,” Elyan said, wearing an expression of total innocence. “With the horses, you said?”

“Don’t bother,” Merlin said, shaking his head. “It’s all wet. I’d just freeze.” 

“How did it get wet?” Percival asked, brow furrowed. 

“Must be the mud,” Merlin shrugged. “It’s completely soaked.” 

Elyan pursed his lips. “Well, what do we do now?” Lancelot sighed and laid down, throwing an arm over his eyes as if he was trying to block out everyone. And for good reason. 

“It’s really alright,” Merlin sighed. “I’ve slept without a bedroll before. I’ll survive.” 

“It’s frigid out here, Merlin,” Elyan said, sounding remarkably like Gwen in that moment. “You’ll catch your death.” 

“I’m not that weak--” 

Arthur, who had been watching the exchange wordlessly until now, made a face. “I do not agree with you on that, Merlin. You are quite the girl, last I checked.” 

“Fear not, dear Merlin!” Gwaine said, sitting up and scooting aside. “You can share my bedroll!” 

“Gwaine, it’s really alright--” Merlin tried again, but he should’ve known it was a lost cause. 

“Don’t be shy. It’s a little snug, but that isn’t a problem, is it?” he winked, as if the implications of his statement were lost on anyone. Leon sighed audibly, looking towards Lancelot, his brethren in dealing with the lot of idiots that were apparently the best of Camelot. 

Arthur groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “That’s enough, Gwaine. Merlin said it was alright, didn’t he?” 

“You seriously can’t take his word for it!” Elyan said, sounding rather scandalized. 

Lancelot gave in, nodding his assent. “He doesn’t have a habit of pretending he’s okay when he’s not.” Merlin shot him a glare, feeling betrayed. 

“I do not --” 

“What about the time you broke your arm,” Percival began. “You didn’t say a word until three days later.” 

“We only found out when you passed out ,” Elyan added. 

“Fine!” Arthur sighed. “Then what do we do? Stitch a new one?” 

“I already offered to share with him,” Gwaine said. 

“He wouldn’t fit!” Arthur protested. 

Percival snorted. “Look at him,” he said, gesticulating at the servant. “He’ll fit alright.” 

“There is no way he’ll fit,” Arthur argued back, crossing his arms. “He’s been eating so much lately, filching my meals in front of my very eyes.” 

“Are you calling me fat ?” Merlin asked, audibly annoyed. “My ribs are plenty visible, thank you very much. Unlike a certain someone I know.” 

“ You-- ” 

Leon coughed, looking at Arthur and then Merlin in turn. “We’re never going to catch a wink of sleep if we go on like this.” 

“You’re right,” Lancelot said. “Merlin, you’re welcome to share mine as well if you find Gwaine too handsy.” 

“Mine as well,” Leon nodded solemnly. 

Elyan smiled. “Of course, I’m also not opposed. I suppose you couldn’t squeeze into a bedroll with a giant like Percival, though.” 

Percival grinned at that. “Probably not, but you’re just as welcome to try.” 

“He can’t,” Arthur said, sounding somewhat panicked.

“Why not, sire?” Elyan asked. “You don’t want him to freeze, do you?” 

“Of course not,” the king spat, pursing his lips. 

“Then why not?” Gwaine asked. “It’s getting late, sire. I bet Merlin wants to sleep just as much as the rest of us.” 

Arthur hesitated, licking his lips. “Because… because all of your bedrolls are too small. You won’t be able to sleep comfortably anyways.” 

Elyan shrugged. “What can we do?” He looked over at Merlin, who seemed just about ready to jump off a cliff. “All of our bedrolls are the same size, except yours.” He paused. “Unless you…” 

“Don’t be preposterous, Elyan,” Gwaine grit out with a murderous look at his fellow knight. “The king can’t sleep in the same bedroll as Merlin, can he?” 

“Who said that?” Arthur asked, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. “It’s not overstepping the bounds of propriety. When we’re out here, pragmatism reigns… not etiquette.” He sounded remarkably like he was giving speech, as if he'd been rehearsing this moment for years. 

Merlin looked at him, surprised and nearly hyperventilating. “What?” 

“Come on, Merlin. Don’t act like a blushing virgin, it doesn’t suit you,” Arthur grumbled, turning away to shield his own flushed face from being seen. 

“Go ahead and sleep,” Leon said, patting Merlin on the back. “I’ll keep watch.”

The warlock felt like he was locked in place. Is this really what my life has come to? Somehow, facing off dragons and sorcerers and curses seemed more doable and manageable than moving his feet. 

“We haven’t got all night, Mer lin,” Arthur yelled, still not looking over at his servant, instead busying himself with his gloves.  That finally forced Merlin to move, trudging over like he was walking towards his own funeral. And perhaps, in a way, he was. 

Gwaine glowered at Elyan, shaking his head, to which the other knight just offered a cheeky smile. “You won’t succeed,” Gwaine hissed at him as he walked by. “I won’t let you.” 

“We’ll just see about that,” Elyan laughed, waving off the weak threat. “We’ll see.”

Chapter Text

Both Merlin and Arthur seemed to forget how exactly their limbs worked. They had stood there, staring wordlessly at the bedroll for almost thirty seconds before a pointed look from Elyan sent them scrambling to figure out where to go from there.  Arthur has already laid it out, but getting two bodies into a bedroll, even if it was a royal one, was an awkward and messy process when both participants were acting like a mere touch would set them aflame. 

The King was wrinkling his nose in frustration, trying his best to yank up the roll sufficiently while Merlin was wriggling into it, doing his best impression of an earthworm. “Why in the name of the Gods are you so gangly Merlin?!“

“At least I’m not wide enough to take up the entirety of a royal bedroll on my own!” Merlin snapped back, trying to scoot as far away as possible and finding it absolutely impossible to not touch Arthur, much to his chagrin. 

“That’s muscle you idiot, not that you would know—“

“I think it might even be better to freeze to death than this —ow !!” Merlin rubbed the back of his head where Arthur had whacked him, eyes narrowed. “What the hell, Arthur?!”

“Thank the heavens, I thought you’d never shut up,” the blonde mumbled under his breath, tucking his arms over his chest. “We’re supposed to be trying to sleep. There isn’t really a point to this whole bedroll sharing thing if you’re just going to jabber and keep everyone up, is there?” 

Merlin rolled his eyes, still rubbing his head and trying his best to stare straight up at the canopy of stars hanging overhead instead of the man beside him. There was a long moment of silence then, with nothing to be heard but the faint noise of the forest humming with dormant life around them and the sound of their own shallow breaths fogging in the cold air. 

Unlike what he had anticipated, Merlin couldn’t sense any of the thick, uncomfortable tension that he’d been expecting. It was quiet, peaceful, and it felt strangely safe. They laid like that for another long moment and it seemed like they were both holding their breath, as if waiting for some epiphany. 

“Merlin—"

“Arthur—"

There was a pause. “You first,” Arthur said, still staring stubbornly at the night sky, as if Merlin wasn’t beside him at all. 

The warlock swallowed, looking towards his king. “Not sure how to tell you this,” he began, trying to figure out how to articulate himself, making Arthur finally turn and look at him. 

“You can tell me anything, Merlin,” Arthur said, voice barely a whisper. “You know that.” The brunet looked into his pale blue eyes, swallowing and wondering how Arthur would take it. But he had to say it, he couldn’t wait any longer. 

Arthur started at him, the razor-sharp focus in his eyes making Merlin feel anxious and a little worried. 

“You’re squishing me.”

“What.”

“This isn’t a fat joke, promise, you’re just actually squishing me, Arthur, and if you made fun of me for being skinny before, by the time we get up tomorrow morning you’ll have molded me into the shape of a pole . Can you not feel how I’m literally being suffocated? I can’t even— ow!! Arthur come on —“ Merlin groaned, clutching at the newly wounded part of his head where he had been whacked yet again. “I told you it wasn’t a fat joke! I’m being serious! And if you keep this up my brain’s going to get knocked around real bad—“ 

“Do me a favor and shut up Merlin,” Arthur said, pursing his lips as he turned on his side to face his servant, laying his head on his arm. “And good thing you aren’t using that brain too much anyways.” Merlin blubbered with indignation, making Arthur laugh just watching him. “Now is this better, or do you have a longer list of complaints you’re going to whip out on me now?” 

The warlock blinked, turning on his side so that he faced Arthur as well. Laying like this, there was no sky or shadowed forest to distract him from their situation. There was nowhere to look but Arthur’s face, shadowed in the moonlight and making him look more sharp and angular than ever. His cheekbones caught the light and threw shadows across the hollows of his face, making him look like a dark King of legend, which was so ironic that Merlin could barely stand it. 

“Well?” Arthur asked, voice nearly husky. “Is this fine?”

Merlin swallowed, trying his best not to let his eyes wander down to the hollows of the King’s collarbone and the wiry muscles flexing in his neck. “This—this will do for now I suppose,” he managed, flashing a small smile and trying to play off his uncertainty as another quip. 

“How the great have fallen,” Arthur said, adjusting again, accidentally tugging both the rest of the roll and Merlin closer to himself. “This is what my life has come to. Discussing bedroll arrangements with you of all people."

“What a pity, sire,” Merlin said finally, trying to distract himself from the way that Arthur’s legs pressed against his own now, the warmth inviting and comforting against the oppressive cold of the outdoors. Which was surely the only reason Merlin wanted to move closer. Yes, he was simply cold, that was all. 

He shifted, wondering if he could make it imperceptible enough that Arthur wouldn’t even notice. Merlin’s ankle knocked against the King’s in the slightest bit, a movement that could be dismissed as a reflex or a mistake or involuntary twitch. 

Arthur’s eyes didn’t leave his, but there was a conspicuous way that they darkened that made Merlin shiver. “What a pity indeed,” the blonde bit out, gaze unwavering. 

The warlock couldn’t breathe, swallowing rapidly while cursing his suddenly dry throat. “Well, um— goodnight then, sire, it’s getting rather late, isn’t it?” Arthur didn’t say anything, just nodded shallowly, which was barely even visible in the dark. “I’m exhausted. Uh—sweet dreams?”

Arthur raised an eyebrow, a ghost of a smirk crossing his lips. “Goodnight to you too, Merlin.” 

“Are they ever going to stop that incessant whispering and flirting?” Gwaine mumbled under his breath to Percival, who lay a foot away from him. 

“Didn’t think them making progress would make you so fussy,” the giant teased, a twinkle in his eye. 

“It’s not them making progress that bothers me,” Gwaine scoffed, rolling his eyes. “It’s the fact that Elyan enabled it that pisses me off.” 

“Ha!” Came Elyan’s voice from a few feet away. “Watch and learn, buddy!” 

“Shut up!” Gwaine hissed back, propping himself on his elbows to hurl a water-skin in his fellow knight’s general direction. “And stop eavesdropping, you creep!”

“It’s not my fault you’re louder than the lovebirds,” Elyan laughed, ducking as the water-skin missed him by a mere inch. 

“I am not ,” Gwaine said indignantly, turning to Percival for support and receiving nothing but an apologetic shrug in return. “Traitor!”

Elyan snickered. “Now you shut up before those two hear you.”

“They’re too far,” Percival pointed out. Merlin the Arthur were much closer to center of the clearing, a good ten feet between them and the rest of the knights. 

“Let’s not take our chances,” Elyan said. “If we get them roused and talking again, we’re all going to be on watch the whole night.” He pulled his covers up to his neck, making himself comfortable. 

Gwaine made a face at him before doing a full-body-wriggle to scoot closer to Percival. “Do you think they’re already asleep?” He asked, voice considerably closer to something akin to a whisper now. 

Percival raised an eyebrow. “I guess?”

“They aren’t talking.” 

The taller knight nodded. “And?”

Gwaine sighed. “Do I have to spell everything out for you, Percival??” He searched his friends face for any sign of understanding and let out a groan when he found none. “What I’m saying is— are they sleeping or are they… going at it ?” 

Percival let out a large sigh. “I don’t know how that thought came to your mind, Gwaine.” While the statement wasn’t a compliment, the fellow knight seemed to take it as one. “As much as I don’t want Elyan to win this, let’s hope for all our sakes that they’re fucking.” 

Much to Elyan’s infinite disappointment, they were not fucking. 

In fact, Gwaine has been the first one to get up that morning, and his first order of business had been to drag Elyan, who had been on watch, over to their King’s bedroll smugly. “Look,” he said, raking a hand through his perfectly luscious locks. “Look at them.”

Elyan looked at the blonde and brunet lying in a mess of a bedroll on the dewy morning grass of the clearing. Unfortunately, they weren’t in any state of undress, it seemed. They were both sound asleep, facing each other with their heads cushioned by their arms. Their faces were barely a foot from each other, but unfortunately, not any closer. 

“There,” Gwaine continued triumphantly. “You failed.” There was a massive grin painted across his face, eyes twinkling with victory. “How does it feel?”

“Shut up.” 

“Not a chance—"

“No, really, shut up for a moment. Wait.” Something flickered across Elyan’s face for a moment before he suddenly drew his sword.

“Hey!” Gwaine sputtered indignantly. “Elyan, I wasn’t serious, this was just—“

“What part of shut it do you not understand?!” Elyan hissed, pointing the tip of his sword at the area between Arthur and Merlin. Gwaine stilled, watching him with wide eyes. Percival, who had just finished packing the horses up, came over, looking quite interested. 

Elyan’s eyes flickered up to the approaching giant before he focused again on the task at hand. The other knights looked on intently as he hooked the sheet of the bedroll under the tip of his blade, gently pulling it up and off of the two sleeping men. 

Gwaine cursed, turning away with an expression that suggested he was holding back a frustrated scream. Elyan smirked, sheathing his sword and gesturing towards Arthur and Merlin proudly. “And you were saying?”

The King and his servant had seemed to be laying nearly a foot away from each other, but under the covers, it wasn’t entirely the same story. Merlin’s leg was sandwiched between Arthur’s, a fraying thread from his trousers caught on the King’s boot.  Merlin’s pale hand lay prone on the bedroll, with Arthur’s hand laying clasped over it, fingers loosely intertwined. 

“It’s not so bad,” Percival said, trying his best to reassure Gwaine with a hand on his shoulder.  “At least they didn’t fuck?” 

“Does it matter if they didn’t fuck ?” Gwaine squawked, throwing his hands up. “Look at them! They’re fucking adorable! ”

“What’s going on?” Leon asked, having just gotten up, Lancelot in tow. 

“Victory,” Elyan said with a cheeky grin, launching Gwaine into another fit of hysterics. 

“Calm down,” Lancelot attempted, stepping aside to see his best friend holding hands with the king on the forest floor. He gave a loud sigh of relief and resumed rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “It was about time.”

“This feels invasive,” Leon said, arms crossed. “I don’t think we should be getting involved like this.” 

“All we’ve been doing for the past week is getting involved,” Elyan pointed out unhelpfully. “So what’s the difference?” 

“A lot of difference!” Gwaine said, throwing his hands up. “I can’t believe this. There’s no way this is real!” He turned to Elyan, eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You rigged this somehow!”

“How do I rig wing-manning?!”

“You need to quiet down or they’re going to wake up,” Leon warned, but he went unacknowledged. He looked to Lancelot for help, but the other knight gave a helpless shrug. Apparently, as soon as his friend was on the path to getting laid, Lance no longer had any of his usual gentlemanly inhibitions. 

“I don’t know!” Gwaine’s voice was growing progressively louder. “It’s not like you know anything about wing-manning anyways!”

“You’re on thin ice there Gwaine,” Elyan yelled back. “You’re speaking to the wingman of the century!”

“Stop yelling, please—"

 “Don’t you dare call yourself that, Elyan —"

“Oh I do dare, Gwaine—"

“What on Earth? ” 

Everyone froze. Gwaine and Elyan, both in the middle of a round of brewing baseless threats, Leon trying to be peacemaker, Percival greatly enjoying himself, and Lancelot looking on with frustratingly cool complacency and nonchalance. They all turn to look to where the groggy voice had come from— at their feet.  

“What in the name of Camelot are you lot doing?!” Arthur was definitely awake now, blinking the drowsiness out of his eyes as he pulled out the arm from under his head to push himself up. “Couldn’t you find anywhere else to argue?? Merlin and I were sleeping and you—“ the blonde paused, and for a moment, everyone was silent as he processed his surroundings. 

The forest at dawn was even quieter than the forest at night, and with the newborn sunlight filtering through the foliage, Arthur could see and feel the stare of every single one of his highest ranking men and closest friends as he lay there, half-awake in his bedroll, holding hands with manservant, legs intertwined. “Oh, gods above….” he mumbled under his breath, visibly paling. 

“Sire,” Leon began, but sadly, as always, he was ignored as Arthur jumped up, flailing about and pushing Merlin off the bedroll in one fell swoop. 

“What the hell !” Merlin sputtered, jolting upright. “Is there anything that you do that isn’t unnecessarily violent, you utter cabbagehead ?!” 

“So he’s ready to go immediately, is he?” Percival said, looking on in wonder. 

Lancelot nodded. “Sometimes I wonder if he’s this angry when he’s dreaming too.” 

Meanwhile, Arthur seemed to have been doing his best to piss Merlin off. “Why am I even waking you up? You’re my servant; that’s your job!” 

“It’s not my fault you have such a comfy bedroll!” Merlin muttered, rolling his eyes. “No wonder I have to drag you out of bed biting and scratching every day!” 

“I would pay to see that,” Gwaine said, to be met by solemn nods of agreement from all the others except Leon. 

“There’s something seriously wrong with all of you,” the redhead said, shaking his head. 

“We just have a more refined sense of entertainment, Elyan shrugged, looking apologetic, as if pitying Leon and his vanilla tastes, to which Leon just sighed in disbelief. 

“Get on with it,” Arthur yelled, face turning bright red, though it seemed not to be from anger. “Are you going to let me starve??”

“Of course not, sire,” Merlin replied in a mocking tone, retying his neckerchief before he pushed himself up. “Whatever you say.” With that, he stormed off, leaving the knights of the Round and the King in his wake. 

“Sire,” poor Leon began again, only to be silenced by a glare from the blonde. 

Arthur looked particularly murderous to anyone who didn’t know him, but the mortified flush of his cheeks was a dead giveaway to anyone who did. “A word of this to anyone,” he began in a low tone, “even a word , and all of your heads will be decoration for the walls of my chambers.” Alright, so maybe there was a little murderous intent included in that mortification. 

“Alright then,” Gwaine said, grinning as he held up his hands in surrender. “Nothing happened. Nothing at all.”

“ Nonsense ,” Elyan interjected, shooting Gwaine a look. “We promise sire, all of us will keep the secret of the incident that definitely happened under wraps.” 

“See that you do,” Arthur said, tone clipped, before he stomped off in the opposite direction of his servant, leaving his knights bickering and gossiping behind him. 

“Something definitely happened ,” Elyan insisted, looking as happy as if he had just been crowned king himself. 

“ Nothing happened,” Gwaine argued, hands on his hips like he was an angry housewife. “It was just their usual awkward oblivious bullshit!” 

“Am I the only one worried about Arthur’s threat?” Percival piped up. “I don’t want my head in his chambers. I don’t want to witness whatever him and Merlin get up to in there.” 

“Good point,” Lancelot said, making Leon realize that his only ally had fallen and become one of the enemy. “They seem like they would be into something kinky and ungodly and weird.”

“Oh lord,” Leon mumbled, covering his eyes and stalking away from his colleagues. This was it— it was official. Leon no longer had any hope.

“What on earth is wrong with his royal highness today? ” Merlin grumbled, readjusting the saddle of Gwaine’s horse. “Didn’t think even he could stand to be in such sour mood after having a belly full of fresh meat last night.” He moved to Leon’s horse, his movements practiced and smooth as he tightened the belts. “There isn’t a man in this whole land that could predict his mood swings.” The warlock paused, looking over his shoulder. “Are you even listening?” 

Lancelot shrugged equivocally from where he was leaning on a tree, biting into a fresh apple that he’d “borrowed” from Gwaine’s emergency stash. “Who knows?”

Merlin turned around, eyes narrowed. “For that matter, what’s gotten into you? I’ve never seen you act so… complacent.” 

“What do you mean by that?” The knight asked, taking a rather violent bite out of the apple. Merlin cursed the stars above as he watched— no man should have the right to look so perfect while mangling a fruit. 

Shaking his head, the warlock planted his hands on his hips. “By now, you’re usually trying to say something inspirational, or demonstrating the path of the moral high ground or whatever,” he said, shooting his friend an incredulous look. “And now you’re acting like you’re about to put in a request for retirement.”

Lance raised an eyebrow.

Merlin froze. “You’re not really going to leave me alone to deal with these bozos, are you?!” A note of panic was lacing his tone and made a smile break out on the knight’s face.

“I’m not that old, Merlin,” he said, tossing the now-bare apple core to the ground at the base of a tree. “And I’m just trying something out.” 

“Trying what out?”

“Every time I get overly involved or concerned about something, it seems to go horribly awry,” Lancelot said. “So I thought that if I did absolutely nothing and just let everything happen, maybe it would have the opposite effect.” 

“And what is this effect that you're hoping to get?” Merlin asked, trying to peer into his friend’s very soul with his best imitation of a Gaius-eyebrow alone. 

Lancelot, having been exposed to the real deal numerous times, was unperturbed. “If it goes well, you’ll see for yourself.” 

“You better tell me what you’re hiding right now, Lance,” Merlin threatened, arms crossed and trying his very best to look threatening, but the knight just walked away, smiling and waving him off. 

“Not on my life, Merlin.” 

“Come back here you son of—"

“ Merlin !” Arthur yelled from across the site. “Stop your chit-chatting and finish up, or we’ll be here ‘til nightfall!” 

Rolling his eyes, Merlin stalked off to finish up his long list of morning chores. What an arse. 

“Do we really have to kill something again ?” Merlin groaned, lugging a pair of crossbows over his shoulder. 

“It’s called a hunt , Merlin,” Arthur snapped back. “I would think that even you are smart enough to figure out what that means after so long.” He stepped off the trail to move further ahead, still not even breaking a sweat. 

Merlin, meanwhile, looked as though he’d just run across Camelot, flushed and struggling with the weight of the crossbows and the heaps of supplies in the pack on his back, all the while still managing to look defiant. “Something crawled up his arse last night,” He mumbled, taking off behind his king while stomping as loudly as possible, doing his bed to scare off any prey that may come near. 

“Did you hear that,” Gwaine said, sounding far too giddy. 

“What?” Leon asked, still woefully oblivious and innocent. 

“I thought Arthur would definitely be a top sort of man,” Gwaine pondered, turning to Percival. “He likes taking control and all that, doesn't he?” 

“Not everything is innuendo, Gwaine,” Lancelot sighed, dragging a hand down his face. 

“How boring a life like that must be,” Gwaine replied, shaking his head in mock sympathy. “Unintended innuendo is what truly reveals the darkest truths in one’s heart.” 

Percival let out what was best described as a guffaw, earning a dirty look from Leon. Gwaine looked mighty proud, grin as wide as the moon. Elyan sighed, stepping between Leon and the troublesome pair, clapping a hand on the red headed knight’s shoulder. “Let it go, Gwaine. Poor Leon’s about to have an aneurysm.” 

Gwaine snickered, looking very close to a mischievous child before he readjusted the strap on his crossbow, jogging ahead. “We better catch up now, or those two are going to murder each other in the mood they’re in. Great job, Elyan.” 

“For goodness' sake, Merlin, you’re just scaring them away on purpose now!”

“No I’m not,” the servant denied vehemently, staring down Arthur with un-moving petulance. “Just clumsy.”

“Not even you are such an oaf.”

“Why, thank you sire.” 

“That’s not a compliment, idiot.” Arthur ran a hand through his hair, muttering under his breath. 

“It kind of was a compliment,” Elyan interjected. 

Arthur looked betrayed. “It was not —"

“You said he wasn’t an oaf,” Percival pointed out. “So isn’t that technically a compliment?”

“Aw, I knew we would see a day when Arthur would openly appreciate Merlin,” Gwaine said, looking remarkably devilish. 

“He does that a lot, actually, just under layers of sarcasm and a tough-guy act,” Elyan said. 

“Excuse me—?” Arthur was at a loss for words, looking from knight to knight, who he had been foolish enough to think were loyal to him. 

“Now, come on,” Leon sighed. “Let’s not pile onto Arthur here.”

“ Thank you , Leon—"

“He gets so shy and embarrassed anytime we point him out for being a softie. If we don’t say anything, maybe we’d see it more often.” The redhead looked disappointed in his fellow knights, pulling an expression somehow reminiscent of Gwen. “Be more empathetic, men.” 

The king, meanwhile, looked as though he’d been stabbed through the heart. “Leon-- how could you?” 

“How could I tell?” Leon asked, smiling brightly. “Why, sire, I’ve known you for years. Don’t you think I’d know your heart by now?” 

“Oh, good lord,” Arthur groaned into his hands, face turning a suspiciously bright shade of red. “You know what? I don’t need you idiots. I’m going to go off on my own for a bit.”

“On your own?!” Leon cried. “That’s too dangerous.” 

“We can’t let you go off without us,” Elyan interjected, looking to Gwaine for help, but the other knight was too busy making impish expressions at Percival. Muttering curses under his breath, Elyan turned to Lancelot instead, who had spent the past few minutes carefully inspecting a fallen acorn and completely ignoring the others. 

“I would be better off without you traitorous lot,” Arthur scowled, readjusting his crossbow and turning away. “Why don’t you sit around and gossip like scullery maids if you aren’t going to help me?” 

Leon, in a state of panic, rushed forward. “Sire, please, at least take one of us with you!” 

Arthur rolled his eyes, turning around painfully slowly. “ Fine. If you’re so intent on it. Lancelot, come along.” Lance looked up from his acorn, raising an eyebrow. 

“Me, sire?” 

“Yes, you . It seems you’re the only knight of the Round that’s loyal to me and not my servant.” He stood there, tapping his foot on the uneven forest floor impatiently until Lancelot finally abandoned the acorn, resheathed his sword and made his way to the King. “We don’t have all day, Lancelot. I’m not going back to Camelot empty handed.” His eyes flickered over the rest of his knights distastefully. “If you wanted to sit tight and gossip like damsels, here’s your chance now.” And with that, the King turned on his head, strutting away into the woods with Lancelot steadfast at his side. 

“Well, that was a disaster.” Elyan sighed, crossing his arms. “Should we go after them?” 

“He’ll wring our necks with the mood he’s in,” Merlin grumbled. 

“Those two are arguably the best swordsmen in the realm,” Percival pointed out. “They’ll be fine.” 

“The woods are dangerous regardless of how well they fight,” Leon said, jaw clenched in his mounting panic. “There’s always bandits too. They could be outnumbered.” 

“Speaking of,” Gwaine mumbled. “It’s been a suspiciously long time since we’ve been attacked by a random group of people. I’m starting to feel pretty antsy, how about you guys?” 

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. It was if on cue-- two masked men stepped out from behind the trees, brandishing swords that glinted in the morning sunlight. 

“For fuck’s sake Gwaine--” Elyan cursed, drawing his blade and charging at the man closest to him. “Can’t you keep your mouth shut? ”

The other knights, all cursing wildly, drew their swords, each finding an opponent in a matter of seconds as a ridiculous amount of men began to emerge from behind the trees.  “Where the hell were they all hiding?” Percival grunted, blocking a parry from the bandit invading his personal space. 

“Does it matter??” Gwaine yelled back, sinking an arrow from his crossbow into a shorter man’s throat. “They’re like a swarm of bees !” 

“This is all your fault Gwaine!” Elyan hissed as he grabbed Merlin by the shoulder, pulling the servant behind him. 

Gwaine swiveled around, blood dripping off of his sword and looking comically bewildered. “How is this my fault?!” 

“It’s just a lot easier to say things are your fault,” Leon yelled from across the clearing. “Because usually everything is!” 

Merlin sighed, backing up against the trunk of a large tree. He had been trying to stay back and let branches fall and sword hilts go fiery-hot in bandits’ hands like usual, but it was nearly impossible to concentrate on his job as an invisible guardian angel when the knights were bickering like school children. He saw Leon getting backed up against a boulder from the corner of his eye, but within a moment the bandit that he had been facing tripped over a suddenly-apparent tree root, stumbling backwards and giving Leon enough time to regain his ground and drive his blade through the bandit’s heart. 

“You alright back there?” Elyan asked, pulling a sword from the hand of one of the men bleeding out on the ground and handing it to Merlin. 

“Alright as I’ve ever been,” the manservant laughed dryly, eyes still flitting over the mini-battlefield intently. Percival was taking on two men at the same time, but judging by the smile on his face and the languid nature of his blows, he was having quite the easy time of it. Leon was also looking about, making sure there were no more men hiding behind the trees, while Elyan pulled his blade out of one that he had just skewered oh-so-casually. Trained to kill indeed. 

“Merlin?” The warlock turned to see Gwaine staring at one of the men on the ground, wide-eyed. The man in question had been covered in all black clothes like the rest of the bandits, but his mask had fallen off, revealing a face contorted in pain from the bloody wound in his stomach that he was clutching at desperately. But most of all, what gave Merlin pause were the man’s eyes. 

They were glowing. 

Merlin could barely hear the man’s voice as he began to mutter incantations, his arm outstretched towards Gwaine paces away. The knight advanced, trying to get another blow in with his sword, but he seemed frozen, in place by whatever spell the man was using. Merlin could hear his heartbeat in his ears as he looked about for something-- anything -- to help. His attempt to drop an old-fashioned branch on his head didn’t seem to be working-- there was something like a bubble surrounding the man, and nothing material could seem to get close. Elyan kept on trying to shoot his crossbow at the sorcerer, but it was to no avail-- the arrows wouldn’t reach him. 

“ DO SOMETHING!” Percival yelled, and for some strange reason, Merlin felt like the words had been directed at him. 

Gwaine’s face was turning increasingly red, as if he was suffocating. Percival charged at the man on the ground, but seemed to freeze in place as well, feet stuck as if in quicksand. Merlin’s mouth was drying up with panic but somehow, his brain knew what he needed to do. Almost as if on reflex, one of the many spells that had been stored away in his memory came to the surface, falling off of his lips with startling ease. Instantly, Merlin could feel the power surging through his veins, the familiar tingling in his eyes, the warm glow in his fingertips as a powerful surge of magic hurtled out of his palm and across the clearing, colliding with the sorcerer with a disturbingly loud crack . 

The force sent him skidding across the ground, limbs flopping and popping like he was a rag-doll until he lay dreadfully still and battered and dead at the base of one of the trees on the far end of the clearing. It was as if the strings holding Gwaine and Percival in place snapped, sending them stumbling to the ground bonelessly. Elyan rushed to Gwaine’s side and Leon to Percival’s as Merlin stood shock-still, too afraid to even breathe. 

“I’m fine,” Percival said, waving off Leon’s concerns. “Just make sure Gwaine’s okay.” 

“I’m no wimp,” Gwaine said raspily between coughs. “He thought he could just suffocate me to death? I live for that kinky shit.” 

“Oh, god Gwaine,” Elyan sighed, closing his eyes in what seemed to be a desperate prayer. “Don’t make me wish he’d killed you.” 

Leon and Percival had made their way over to Gwaine, the latter helping him stand. “I’m no damsel,” the shorter knight grumbled, kicking out his legs to try to get the blood flowing in them again. “I’m fine.” 

“Merlin,” Percival called. “Come check on him. He doesn’t know when he’s hurt.” Merlin eyed the giant knight warily, trying to sense any semblance of hostility in his tone. Finding Gwaine’s condition to be more important at the moment, he carefully approached. Elyan had forced Gwaine to sit up against a tree as Merlin approached, cautiously offering him one of the many water-skins that had been stuffed into his pack. 

“Thanks, mate,” Gwaine said with a characteristically wide grin, gulping down the whole thing in a matter of seconds. Merlin got to work quickly, checking the typical vitals. Pulse, breathing, pupils, head-- everything seemed to be alright. He looked around at the other knights, who didn’t seem to be perturbed in the least. Elyan was busy checking to make sure all the bandits were really dead this time, while Leon searched one, seemingly trying to discern where the mysterious men had come from. Percival hovered beside Gwaine, wearing a rather worried expression but otherwise not looking like anything was expressly out of the ordinary. 

What in the name of the Triple Goddess is going on? Merlin swallowed his fear, getting up. Everyone looked over, expectantly. 

“So?” Percival asked. 

“Gwaine’s fine,” Merlin said finally. “His throat will be sore for a couple days. And he might bruised in a few places, but he’ll be okay. Gaius can take a look at him once we get back.” 

“See, I told you that I’m tough!” Gwaine laughed, flexing a bicep proudly before he dissolved into another coughing fit. 

“You shouldn’t really be talking so much,” Merlin sighed. “Or so loudly.” 

“What a relief,” Elyan said. “I never thought I’d be thankful for bandits.” 

Gwaine glared at him, ready to retort, until Percival gave him a pointed look. “Don’t make it worse.” Rolling his eyes, Gwaine slumped back against the tree, looking startlingly like a child in time-out. 

“Maybe it’s time we go and follow Arthur and Lancelot,” Leon suggested, sheathing his sword. “These bandits are just a rag-tag group, it seems, but it's possible that there’s more of them.”

Percival nodded in agreement, pulling Gwaine to his feet as Leon began trekking up the path Arthur and Lancelot had taken not-so-long ago. 

Merlin stilled, watching them walk away . “Wait,” he called out after them, fists clenching and nails biting into his palms. “That man— the sorcerer…”

Elyan turned around, reassuring smile fixed in place. “Oh, don’t worry Merlin! He’s definitely dead this time. I made sure of it.”

The warlock studied him as the other knights turned and watched with strange looks on their faces. “You— the man, he— how did he die?” Merlin stammered out finally. What am I doing?! Do I want to die? 

Percival shrugged. “I didn’t really get a good look. Was very tied up in my… situation.” 

“Me either,” Gwaine piped up, voice still raspy and countenance suspiciously shifty-eyed. “I was dying, of course, so no time for that. It was just lucky. A miracle.”

Merlin squinted. “Fine. What about you, Leon? You have to have seen something .” 

“I… uh…” Leon looked at the other knights, who all seemed to avoid his gaze. “His own magic must have turned against him, obviously.”

“And threw him up against a tree?” Elyan snickered, hiding a laugh behind his hand. “Clever, Leon.” 

Leon glared at the other man. “Fine, Elyan,” he said, sounding uncharacteristically petty. “Why don’t you go ahead and tell Merlin exactly what you saw since you witnessed it completely clearly and obviously have such an extensive knowledge of the subject?” 

Elyan froze, looking over to Merlin with round eyes a “um…”

“Let’s hear it,” Leon urged, arms crossed. 

“It was…” Elyan’s Adam’s apple bobbed conspicuously. “It was a really strong wind?” 

The clearing was completely silent for a full five long moments. Gwaine and Percival were clutching at each other in a desperate attempt not to burst out laughing, Elyan was trying to distract himself from the situation at hand by tucking a non-existent lock of hair behind his ear, and Leon looked on, saddling the line between panic and satisfaction. 

All the while, Merlin stared at them all, gnawing suspicion coming to the forefront of his mind. “You lot aren’t that dumb,” he said finally. 

“Why, we appreciate that greatly, Merlin,” Gwaine said, earning a warning jab from Percival to keep quiet. 

Merlin didn’t even seem to hear what had been said. “There’s no way you missed that. There’s absolutely no way.” 

“What?” Elyan asked, backing up. “Missed what, Merlin?”

“Are you feeling alright?” Percival asked suddenly, just as Leon cleared his throat to say, “We really should be catching up to Arthur and Lancelot.” 

“We’re not going anywhere,” Merlin said, jaw clenched. “Not until I figure out what’s going on here.” 

“There’s nothing going on here,” Gwaine said, pushing away Percival as the giant tried to slap a hand over his friend’s mouth. “Let’s just go.”

“Are you all enchanted?” Merlin asked, seemingly more to himself than to the knights. “Is that what it is? You’ve all been acting weird for days anyways."

“To be fair, we always act a little bit weird,” Elyan supplied with a half-shrug. 

“There’s no way you didn’t notice it,” Merlin continued, voice rising. 

“Notice what?” Leon asked with a nervous laugh. “There’s nothing to notice—"

“The magic you twatheads!” Merlin yelled throwing his hands up in the air. “There’s no way you didn’t notice the magic!” 

Gwaine limped over to the manservant with a crooked smile on his face. “Of course we noticed the magic, Merlin,” he said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “The man was quite literally trying to kill me with it.” 

“No, I mean my —"

The knight laughed loudly, slapping a hand over his friend’s mouth. “Merlin, we might want to talk about this in private —"

Merlin managed to push him away, eyes widening. “ How long have you known?!”

Gwaine looked back to the other knights, at a loss for words. Leon looked up, unsure. “Um, Merlin, who are you talking to?” 

The manservant looked from one of the knights to the other, the fact dawning on him as he saw the looks on their faces. “...oh my lord." 

“Know what—" Percival began, but was quickly cut off. 

“Stop playing dumb! You know about my magic!” 

Once again, everyone was frozen in place, looking at each other cautiously. Gwaine was the first to make a move, stepping closer to Merlin and clapping a hand on his shoulder. the warlock flinched, expecting the worst. “Any if you even think about hurting him and I will not hold back.”

“Neither will I,” Elyan added, looking around. “And I didn’t know you knew, Gwaine.”

“I didn’t know either of you knew,” Percival added. “Even you didn’t tell me, Gwaine. What the hell is that?!” 

“I’m sorry!” Gwaine sighed. “I thought I’d be taking it to my grave.” 

“This whole time I thought I was the only one,” Leon said, letting out a breath of relief. 

“You’re telling me you all knew?!” Merlin asked, voice raising an octave. “And not one of you said anything to me?”

“We were trying to protect you,” Leon tried, looked apologetic. 

“I didn’t know how to bring it up in organic conversation,” Elyan said, looking mighty awkward. 

“I thought you didn’t want anyone to know,” Percival shrugged. “So I didn’t think it was necessary to bring it up.” 

“I was waiting for you to tell me,” Gwaine said, hands on his hips. “I swear to the gods, if you told Arthur before me—"

“ Does Arthur knew?” Percival asked. One guilty look from Merlin told the knights everything they needed to know. 

Gwaine fist pumped, jumping around too much for a recently injured man. “Haha! Take that , Pendragon!” 

“What about Lancelot?” Elyan asked as Percival made his way over to ground Gwaine and keep him still. 

“He’s known for years,” Merlin muttered, mind still reeling from his new information. “So none of you told Arthur?”

The knights all shook their heads. “Not a soul,” Percival added. 

“Why didn’t you?”

Leon scrunched up his face. “Why would we? You save us all the time.” 

“We know you’re a good person,” Elyan smiled. “I thought you would tell everyone when you were ready.” 

Merlin hadn’t been aware that Gwaine was capable of making such an affectionate expression. “You’re one of my best friends Merlin. I would have rather died than gave up your secret.” 

“You’re going to make my teeth rot with your sweetness Gwaine,” Percival said, face screwed up, but his eyes spoke the same volumes of affection for Merlin that Gwaine’s did. 

Merlin’s own eyes were awfully teary. He tried to hide his face behind his hands, hoping his cheeks weren’t going all blotchy like they usually did when he cried. “I thought I was protecting you guys all this time… but you guys were really protecting me.” 

“Come on, did you really think we would let a clumsy servant with a death boner come on all the most dangerous expeditions just because Arthur has severe separation anxiety?” Gwaine laughed. “Give us more credit than that.” 

“You really need to shut up if you want your voice back,” Merlin laughed through budding tears, ducking his head as Gwaine engulfed him in a bone-crushing hug. 

Arthur and Lancelot had caught four rabbits and were mighty proud of themselves. Arthur, especially, seemed ready to brag to his other knights, swaggering about as if he owned the place (which, since they were in the forest of Camelot, was actually more-or-less the actual situation). 

“Good thing we went off without them,” the blonde laughed, dangling one of the rabbits in front of his face and looking at it with eyes shining with pride. “Merlin wouldn’t have let us catch a single one.”

Lancelot nodded in agreement. “We’re just about back.” 

Indeed, a few more paces and they stumbled upon the same clearing they had been in just an hour or so ago, but it was completely different from how they had left it. There were upwards of twenty men sprawled about the ground, one smashed up against a smoking tree, still smoldering and filling the air with the smell of burnt flesh. There were smatterings of blood and men and weapons everywhere, drenching the forest floor in patches of black and red. “What happened here?!” Arthur asked, voice coming out like a screech. 

The knights were huddled around the boulders on the far side of the clearing, with Gwaine sitting up on the tallest one and Merlin on one of the lower ones. The others were all clustered around the two, as if they were really kitchen maids in the midst of juicy gossip. Gwaine opened his mouth to say something, but somehow, a pointed look from Percival shut him up. What is going on? Lancelot wondered. If Gwaine’s being quiet, we must have really entered the twilight zone. 

Percival rose to his full height, looking over at his king and Lancelot and the four rabbits they were carrying. “Well, sire,” he began. “While you were out hunting cute fluffy rabbits, we took down a whole score of murderous bandits.” 

Arthur made a face, looking about. “What happened to that one?” He asked, gesturing to the former sorcerer that lay dead against a smoking tree trunk. 

The knights all looked rather shifty-eyed at that. “It was…”

“Rather good luck,” Leon said suddenly. 

“Quite the miracle,” Elyan added with an awkwardly wide grin. 

“Miracle?” Arthur repeated incredulously. “Pray tell, what was this miracle of yours?” Lancelot looked over at Merlin, raising an eyebrow, receiving only a half smile and a shrug in return. 

“Didn’t really get a good look,” Percival said, the other nodding in accordance. 

“What’s going on here??” The king asked, crossing his arms. “You lot aren’t fighting or trying to be funny, Gwaine isn’t talking, Merlin’s sitting there with that dumb smile on his face— something’s not right here.” 

“Gwaine was a little injured by the bandits,” Merlin said, finally getting up. “Speaking of, since you’ve finished your periodic innocent-animal murder, we should be heading back so Gaius can take a look at him.”

“It’s not m urder, ” Arthur began, eyes darting to Gwaine. “Is he okay?” Before Gwaine had even fully nodded, the blonde turned his attention to Merlin, eyes flitting up and down. “I trust you hid like usual and were safe and sound?” 

Merlin snorted. “Of course, sire. I’m fine.” 

Something in Arthur’s face softened. “We...should be getting back anyways. Come along.” 

Leon moved up ahead, taking note of the location to have soldiers clean up the clearing afterwards, explaining the other details of the attack to Arthur. Merlin trailed behind him with Lancelot, who was still carrying two rather large rabbits. Percival helped Gwaine limp along, talking enough to account for his friend’s silence. Elyan trailed along behind, brandishing his sword cautiously and looking about as if expecting another bandit to jump out of the woods at any moment. 

“I’m guessing that was you?” Lancelot asked, shooting a look at Merlin. 

The warlock just smiled. “Maybe just a miracle.” 

Lancelot smiled quizzically. “Never seen you so happy after a fight. Don’t tell me the knights are rubbing off on you.” 

“Of course not,” Merlin said, the grin still splitting his face. “Just in a good mood.”

“Merlin, you have to tell me what’s making you so ridiculously happy.” 

The brunet looked up ahead. Arthur and Leon were a few paces away, immersed in conversation. Ducking his head, he leaned closer to Lancelot. “They know, Lance.”

Lancelot’s eyes widened. “What— about— that ..?” Merlin nodded, eyes positively sparkling. “ All of them?”

“Apparently they all figured it out separately,” Merlin said, wonder and excitement lacing his tone. “And not one said a word until today! And that wasn’t until I literally came out with it! ” 

“That’s news to me,” Lancelot said, shaking his head in disbelief. “Apparently they’re all better at keeping secrets than you, Merlin.”

The warlock laughed good-naturedly. “Looks like it.” Merlin seemed to be floating, a weight lifted off his shoulders. 

Lancelot watched his friend, smiling to himself. The knights all seemed to be on Merlin’s side— that just left Arthur. He’ll come around.  There was no other option-- Lancelot could not imagine Merlin with Arthur. Perhaps this whole "staying out of it" stint is working out a lot better than I expected... 

A few paces ahead, Arthur nodded along to the informal report Leon was giving, looking over his shoulder to see Merlin sporting a blindingly dazzling smile. What in the world made him smile like that and how can I make it happen everyday? 

“Are you doing alright, sire?” Leon asked. 

Arthur tore his eyes away from his servant. “Better than ever.”

Chapter Text

It was in the depths of the castle of Camelot that the final, forgotten contender rose from the shadows. George, the elusive manservant, with his sharp eyes and dull demeanor, was a rival feared by the others competing for the title of Wingman of the Century. 

Or, he would’ve been feared if the others even remembered he had attended their first planning meeting. Or if they remembered he existed to begin with. 

Regardless. George would make his move, and it would finally come time for him to be remembered. 

Already building a detailed plan in his head, George watched as the knights, King Arthur, and Merlin all made their way back to Camelot on horseback, back from their overnight hunting trip. They all seemed to be in good spirits, but there was an air of frustration hovering about the knights that led George to believe that he wasn’t too late to join the game yet. 

Smiling to himself, George stepped back from the window, returning to his laundry and planning his next move. 

The situation in which the group had left on their hunting trip had been less than ideal. After all, it came as a response to Arthur witnessing some rather disgusting conduct towards Merlin, which made their return all the more awkward. 

However, Merlin was not to be cowed. He had fought the most powerful sorcerers in history, magical creatures of every kind, kept his identity (mostly) a secret, and tolerated Arthur for years, so no petty rumors were going to get the best of him now. 

So, fired up and wearing his best expression of nonchalance coupled with contempt, Merlin began his morning the day after their return as early as usual, making his way down to the kitchens to fetch Arthur breakfast before the King could throw a fit. 

And lo and behold, Merlin’s luck was just absolute shit, it seemed, because who else should he run into first thing in the morning than Gemma, the Cook’s assistant? 

Merlin saw a myriad of expressions flicker over her face as she looked at him, ranging from amused to interested to annoyed. He could remember her scathing words as clear as day: “All he needs to do is bat those lashes and spread his legs. Who can resist a pretty whore like him?”

“I see you’re back,” Gemma said, a half smile flashing across her face. “How was the… hunting trip? ” The way she said the last two words made it clear what she was insinuating, not even the least bit bashful about what she was asking. 

“I’m going to be late,” Merlin bit out, refusing to answer to her probing gaze. “If I could just get past--” 

Carol, the kitchen maid, a fellow gossip, and the apparent bane of Gemma’s existence, noticed Merlin standing on the fringes of the kitchens for the first time and made her way over, never one to miss a chance for a saucy story. “Gemma, you’ve been hogging Merlin all to yourself,” she said, a hiss underlying her tone before she turned to the man in question, a smile painting itself across her features. “How was the trip, Merlin?” 

At least she’s less obvious, the warlock thought despairingly, giving a perfunctory smile in return and hoping it would suffice as civil behavior. “It was fine,” he said finally. “Now, I really have to go, Arthur’s going to be up soon--” 

“Oh, Arthur, Arthur, Arthur, it’s always Arthur,” Gemma waved off, risking a glance over her shoulder to see that she wasn’t in Cook’s line of sight. “If you’re going to talk about him, at least tell us some juicy details.” 

Merlin pursed his lips. “There are none.” 

“Don’t be such a prude,” Carol laughed. “Just indulge us a little.” 

Would it be mean to tell them to fuck off? Merlin wondered distantly. Out loud, he said, “There really is nothing. It’s getting late--” 

“ Merlin , stop being so withholding!” Gemma interrupted. “You’ve never told us one detail and you’re the little pet of every knight of the first order--” 

“Will you stop ?!” Merlin pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to calm down and failing miserably. “You sit here, acting like friends and pandering for juicy tidbits of gossip so that you can just go behind my back and call me a whore ?”

Gemma looked as pale as a sheet. Carol laughed awkwardly. “Of course not, Merlin, where did you hear that?” She reached out to lay a hand on his shoulder, as if they were close friends and this was all a big misunderstanding, only to be shrugged off. 

“I heard it straight from the horse’s mouth,” Merlin said, stepping back. “So don’t play dumb with me.” 

“Aren’t we allowed to talk?” Gemma protested, throwing her hands up. “It’s harmless.” 

“Harmless for you, perhaps,” the warlock crossed his arms, feeling the anger burning inside of him. “I for one, am sick of it. All you lot do all day is make up raunchy stories and insult others to feel better about yourselves.” 

Gemma opened her mouth to protest again, but Merlin was not to be stopped. 

“For the record, not a word of what you titter about is true. It’s frivolous and empty, just like you.” Merlin pushed past her to get to Arthur’s breakfast, eyes still blazing. “Perhaps you should stop wasting your time bullying others who aren’t around to defend themselves.” He pushed past them again to the door, watching the two girls unblinkingly. “And maybe, just maybe, if you tried to be less of a shitty person, maybe you would have real friends and wouldn’t need a salacious story to get people to talk to you.” 

With that, Merlin turned on his heel and left, the kitchen door swinging behind him. This is going to be a good day.   

Thankfully, Arthur, exhausted from the hunt, had not woken by the time Merlin got to his chambers, exempting poor Merlin from the lecture he would probably get otherwise about being late. He went about his usual duties, setting up breakfast on the table, opening the curtains and yelling “Rise and shine!” obnoxiously loud, pulling out a fresh set of clothes for the day, dragging Arthur’s half-awake body from bed kicking and struggling-- all the typical things in the day of a king’s manservant. 

With Arthur writhing on the floor in a blanket cocoon and the harsh morning sunlight reflecting off of a bun that Merlin was sure to steal from Arthur’s plate before he was fully awake, life was good. “You have a full schedule today, sire,” Merlin began, looking at the day’s agenda. “We don’t have time to dilly-daddle.” 

Arthur groaned from his spot on the floor, muffled through the sheets. 

“Oh, stop being such a baby,” Merlin sighed, taking the opportunity to pilfer the bun he had been eyeing. The first bite was absolute heaven, with the warm butter soaking through the layers just right. He really hoped it hadn’t been Gemma who made it. “You’re going to be late for a council meeting.” 

“They don’t need me to be there,” Arthur said, voice still husky with sleep. “The weekly council meetings are just an excuse for Geoffrey and Sir Alden to argue about tax documentation.” 

Merlin sighed, licking his fingers as he finished off the bun. “Poor King Arthur,” he cooed, shaking his head. “He must face the terrible reality of council meetings every week.” He made his way over to the other side of the bed, where Arthur seemed content to continue sleeping on the floor. “We have thirty minutes to get you ready or the council’s going to move into your chambers.” 

“That would be preferred,” Arthur said, but didn’t get to continue his thought as Merlin tugged him upright with an extraordinary show of strength. It was extraordinary enough that Arthur finally awoke fully, wondering if Merlin had been hiding Percival-sized muscles under those baggy clothes of his. 

Merlin, oblivious as always, had shoved him against his own armoire for support, brandishing a bright red shirt for Arthur to wear, holding the day’s agenda in his other hand. Was that butter on his fingers? “After the council meeting, you have hearings for two different trials, both of which are cases of stolen goats. That’s a real problem of the late,” he rambled, pulling the shirt over Arthur’s head. “Training’s been moved to the afternoon as you said, and then you’ll have dinner with… Lady Genevieve?” Merlin’s eyes flickered to the King’s for a moment, before darting away again. 

“Ah, yes, I received a message last night that she extended her stay so she would have a chance to say goodbye before she left,” Arthur said, trying in vain to brush his hair with his fingers. “She was originally supposed to leave during our impromptu hunting trip.” 

“Right,” Merlin said with a slow nod, reaching for the laces on Arthur’s shirt and doing them up in moments with practiced, nimble fingers. “I… hope you enjoy yourself.” Arthur made a face, but before he could figure out what on earth was going through his strange manservant’s mind, Merlin stepped away, shoving another article of pompous royal clothing at him. “Unless you want to go to the council meeting in your underclothes, you’re going to have to go faster, sire. ” 

The morning was absolutely hellish. At least, to Arthur it was. Geoffrey, as usual, was very passionate in defending his idea that the tax collection records should be organized by amount of tax paid, while Sir Alden had his heart set on alphabetical order. In the three months since the argument had started, neither side was ready to give, and Arthur was considering proposing that all the tax records were instead shuffled like a deck of cards instead to alleviate the issue altogether. 

And the goats. God, when were people going to understand that it was not necessary to bring the goats themselves to trial as well? Their beady, vacant eyes and the smell they left all over the throne room were enough to make Arthur wonder if his dreams of (platonically, of course) running away with Merlin to a farm was a bust. Perhaps we could raise something more personable, he considered as he watched the villagers very-near maul each other over who got custody of said goat. Maybe… sheep. Those are soft. Maybe I could sleep on one. 

“Sire?” Merlin was looking at him expectantly. Arthur sat up at once, looking at everyone staring at him, waiting for him to give a verdict on the trial. Damnit. Before he opened his mouth and embarrassed himself, though, Merlin tapped him on the shoulder, slipping him a piece of paper. 

Arthur looked down to see the verdict and the reasons outlined clearly in Merlin’s scratchy handwriting. With affection and gratitude blooming in his chest, he turned to look over his shoulder, watching as Merlin’s face melted into a teasing grin, making Arthur’s heart flutter and stutter and speed up all at once in a way that he rather stubbornly continued to pretend was entirely platonic.

“We’re at the end of the line here,” Gwaine groaned, face in his hands. “We’ve tried absolutely everything!” 

Leon, ever dutiful, was looking at the list crafted during the first Secret Meeting of the Wing(wo)men, which, indeed, had been utterly exhausted. “There has to be something else,” Elyan sighed, leaning back onto Gwaine’s bed, which he had claimed as his own. “There’s no way we did everything .” 

“Sure feels like it,” Percival sighed.

“Maybe we should be less roundabout,” Leon suggested. “If we just… all talked to them…?” 

Gwaine scoffed. “Sure,” he said, sarcasm positively dripping from his tone. “Why don’t we just go up to those two idiots and say, “Hey, we know you guys want to fuck-- so just do it!” . That’ll totally do the trick.” 

Lancelot, who had been dragged into his meeting against his will (and his newfound resolution to do absolutely nothing) cleared his throat awkwardly as he realized that he had done exactly what Gwaine had just said, albeit with much less crass language. 

“Well, this morning, I ran into the serving boy,” Leon said. “The one that… what’s his name? Gerald?” 

Percival frowned. “Yeah, think it’s Gerald.” 

“Well, he said that he’s got something for today,” the red-headed knight said. 

“He’s got something up his sleeve too?!” Gwaine sat up suddenly. “I can’t let Gerald take my title!” 

“A title you have proven yourself incapable of being worthy of,” Elyan mumbled under his breath. 

“Look who’s talking, bedroll boy --” 

Lancelot sighed, choosing that moment to slip out of the Gwaine’s chambers, unnoticed. Don’t get involved, he chanted to himself stubbornly. Don’t get involved, and everything will turn out fine. 

Lunch had always been good, ever since Merlin had picked up the basics of meal prep and had discovered all of Arthur’s favorite foods. It was almost frightening, the degree of accuracy that Merlin had in choosing meals to fit Arthur’s mood-- perhaps he was a psychic of some sort. After one such satisfying meal in his chambers (enjoyed with only the company of Merlin-- Arthur wasn’t ready to see Morgana’s smug face so soon after a rather relaxing excursion), Arthur leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling while he waited for Merlin to come back from the kitchens. 

Training was to begin quite soon, and while he was capable of at least getting started in undressing, Arthur just preferred to watch Merlin do it (was that so wrong?). So instead of doing anything at all productive, the Once and Future King chose to stare at walls and daydream. 

The door to his chambers creaked, and Arthur sat up immediately, a smile gracing his face. “Merlin, do you remember that one time when--” 

“Sire.” 

Arthur blinked. “Ah,” he said, cocking his head as the door closed behind a servant-- just not his servant. What is his name again? Arthur recognized the fellow-- after all, it was hard not to when he saw them every day-- but all he could recall was vague attempted jokes about brass. “ You ,” he said, sounding a little accusatory. “Uh… where’s Merlin?” 

“He’s still down in the kitchens, sire,” the man-whose-name-Arthur-could-not-remember said, shoulders tight and voice clipped as though he was a knight himself. “There is still some time before he will return.” 

“Oh,” Arthur said, blinking dumbly. “That’s alright, then. I can wait for him.” 

The other man nodded. “Of course, sire.” But he did not move from where he was standing. 

The King coughed. Was it normal to feel this awkward around your own employees? “I… uh… meant that I’ll wait for Merlin to come get me ready for training. Your services aren’t… necessary.” 

“Sire, permission to speak?” 

“...granted?” 

“Sire, what I am about to say may sound dreadfully out of order,” the man began. “And I assure you, I mean no disrespect by it. I simply wish to serve to the best of my ability as a servant.” 

Arthur had no idea where any of this was going. 

“In fact, sire, I feel that this is a part of fulfilling my responsibility as a member of the royal household.”

“I appreciate the sentiment,” Arthur said slowly, trying in vain to remember the man’s name. “But you really needn’t go on so long. I already granted you permission to speak.” 

“It’s about Merlin, sire,” the servant said. “About your highness, and Merlin, to be precise.” 

Arthur froze, eyeing the man seriously. “What about him?” 

“From what I have seen, sire, I have come to the conclusion that you may harbor some feelings towards Merlin.” 

In that moment, Arthur’s heart might have full-on stopped. Of course, he had been teased about this particular issue by the knights or others a handful of times (especially in the past few days-- what in the Triple Goddess’s name was going on with Camelot of the late?) but for it to be stated so blatantly by a man he barely knew-- well, that was a recipe for panic. “What,” Arthur gasped out, attempting nonchalance but failing miserably. “What drivel !” 

“Sire--” 

“Absolute nonsense!” 

“Sire, please--” 

“Permission to speak rescinded!” 

“ Sire! ” For the first time, whatever facade the man had been putting on seemed to fade, the obsequious posture and expression replaced with something much more earnest. “Before you disregard it all, or punish me for not knowing my place, at least allow me to say that I believe Merlin feels the same way about you.” 

Arthur choked on air. 

The moment Merlin entered the room after returning from the kitchens, he could sense something was off. There was a subtle change in Arthur’s demeanour-- he was more fidgety than usual, drumming his fingers on the table nervously and barely acknowledging Merlin walking into his chambers. 

“Arthur?” 

The King nearly jumped out of his seat, eyes wide. “Merlin! I was— I was looking for you.”

Merlin raised an eyebrow. “...Uh huh.” 

“Listen, it’s all been really hectic lately, but you’re all done with your duties now, aren’t you?” 

“No,” Merlin said slowly, wondering if this was a trick question. “The hunt put me behind.”

“Oh, that’s a pity, well, if you’re already behind, one more day off won’t make much of a difference will it?” Arthur sat back in his chair and waved him off. “Go along.”

“What?” The warlock stared at the fidgeting man in front of him, briefly wondering if he had been enchanted. “Are you alright?”

“I’m doing wonderful, now go and do whatever you do on days off. Go to the tavern or something.” Arthur paused. “On second thought, actually, don’t go to the tavern. Anywhere but the tavern. Don’t want you all hungover for tomorrow, do we?” 

“Arthur,” Merlin began, but was quickly interrupted. 

“Shh— just go, alright!”

“But what about the rest of the things I need to do for today—“

“There’s tons of other servants, just go !” Arthur punctuated the statement by actually grabbing Merlin by the shoulders, leading him rather forcefully to the door. It wasn’t until Merlin was staring at the closed door of Arthur’s chambers from outside that he fully processed what had just happened. 

He’s definitely been enchanted, he decided. But I don’t have any information to go off of. He’s being more generous than usual? Merlin turned on his heel, making his way back to Gaius’s chambers, a flurry of thoughts circling in his head. Oh well. For now, I shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. 

“George, this is crazy,” Arthur flopped onto his bed in a very unkingly fashion, looking over the food the manservant was assiduously arranging on  the table. He’d finally been able to figure out his name after hours of thinking (who knew that a majority of Arthur’s memories were too tainted by Merlin’s presence and continuous threats on his life and Camelot to make room for much more information?). “This will never work.” 

“Sire, kindly stop fretting,” George sighed, organizing a vase of brightly colored flowers. “It will be just fine.” 

Arthur pursed his lips, turning on his side, wondering for a moment if George’s passive aggressiveness was worse than Merlin’s blatant insubordination. Perhaps I should be more concerned that there’s so many different ways my servants disrespect me. 

George turned to look over his shoulder to see Arthur’s sour expression. “Just have a little faith, sire.”

“I know, I know,” the blonde groaned, yanking up a sheet all the way to his neck. “I know.” 

“Everything’s ready, sire,” George said as the afternoon slipped into evening. 

Arthur looked up from where he was fiddling nervously with the ties of his shirt. “Are you absolutely sure?” 

“Of course. I even brought the ribbons.” George produced a box from his pocket, the velvet gleaming in the soft golden light from the open window. Arthur took it reluctantly. “I’ll go fetch Merlin now, sire?” 

“Yes, yes, go do that.” Arthur waved him off, fingers still curled tight around the box. The manservant left without another word, closing the door behind him and leaving the king trapped with his own insecurities and fears. 

Merlin was mixing some draughts for Gaius, cursing his luck for never truly having a day off while simultaneously wondering if he should be worried about Arthur’s sudden benevolence when a loud knock rang out at the door. He looked over to see that Gaius was hunched over one of the far tables with his glasses on-- Gaius barely realized the rest of the world existed when he had his glasses on. 

Sighing, Merlin set down the vial he had just finished mixing and corked it, wiping his hands on a stray rag. How did Camelot survive before I showed up? he wondered as another prim knock sounded on the door. “I’m coming, I’m coming!” Pushing past a precarious stack of books that was sure to topple any moment, Merlin finally made his way to the door, pulling it open. “George?” 

The shorter man was standing with his back ramrod-straight as always, an expression of practiced indifference on his face. “The King requests your presence.” 

Merlin wrinkled his nose. “He said I had the day off.” 

“He expects you in his chambers immediately.” 

“Is he just going to give me a day off and revoke it whenever he pleases?” Merlin huffed, crossing his arms as if George was the one who was annoying him at the moment instead of Arthur. “Who does he think he is?” 

“The King,” George responded curtly, apparently unimpressed and unperturbed by Merlin’s dangerously insubordinate remarks, having become used to them in the past years. 

Merlin rolled his eyes. “For the gods’ sake. Tell him I’ll be there in a bit, I have a draught boiling.” George walked off and Merlin let the door fall shut, returning to the sleeping draught that was now looking a little too green to be safe to drink. The brunet just simply sighed, plopping down on a stool as he emptied the now-probably-toxic liquid into a bucket under the table. “Goddamnit, Arthur,” he mumbled, running a hand through his hair. “Goddamnit.” 

As Merlin walked through the halls to Arthur’s chambers like he had done a thousand times before, he couldn’t help but wonder what was going on. I can’t think of any other possibility. He’s definitely enchanted. 

Even after he finally reached Arthur’s door, he must’ve stood there, hesitating, for almost a full minute before he worked up the courage to start moving instead of doing a wonderful impression of a stone pillar. Do I knock? He wondered for a moment. Merlin never knocked. But he never “requests my presence” either. Deciding that it couldn’t hurt, he knocked before stepping back, suddenly nervous. 

The door swung open to reveal George standing on the other side, his expression strangely less stoic than usual. It didn’t look right on him. “Come in, Merlin,” George said, as if Merlin was nobility. 

Bewildered, Merlin stepped past him into the room, only to be met with a scene that left him more confused than ever. There, on the table in the middle of the room, was a large spread of warm, delectable food, with lit candles flickering in the center of the table. There were wildflowers draped across the furniture and in vases around the room, as if a festival was being celebrated. The sweet scent of the flowers combined with the gentle light of the candles made the room feel inviting and warm. “What’s going on?” Merlin asked, heart catching in his throat. Behind him, George stepped out of the room and closed the door quietly. Merlin looked over his shoulder to see Arthur standing to the side, wearing a loose white tunic and looking mighty nervous. “Arthur?” 

The blonde looked at a loss for words. “Merlin.” 

“What is all this?” 

Arthur looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “Dinner?” 

Merlin just stared. “I’m not… quite following.” 

“Um… yes, so…” Arthur took a deep breath. “I thought I would do something a little… out of the ordinary for dinner today. I mean, George did most of it, but still…” 

Still, Merlin just looked on blankly. 

“What do you think?” The King tried instead, gesturing awkwardly to the flowers and the table. 

Merlin followed his gaze, trying to fight the feeling of butterflies in his stomach. “It’s-- it’s a lot.” 

Arthur pursed his lips. “Is that bad?” 

“Not at all.” Merlin smiled, looking over the flowers on the table and reaching out to touch the soft petals. “It’s all rather… nice.” Is this all for me? 

“You really think so?” 

“It’s all beautiful,” the brunet laughed. “What else would you expect from George?” 

“Of course,” Arthur said, smiling in turn but still looking rather nervous. “He has a knack for this sort of thing.” He paused for a moment, jaw working as he decided whether or not to say the next few words. “Unlike you.” 

The petty insult somehow dissolved the tension blanketing the room. Merlin laughed, turning to face Arthur fully. “

“I wouldn’t be so full of myself if I needed someone else’s help to organize a thoughtful gesture.” 

Arthur made an expression of mock-offense, doubtlessly preparing to retort when a knock rang out against the door. Out of pure habit, Merlin didn’t even think twice before he made his way over to open it. 

And of course, who else would be standing on the other side than Lady Genevieve herself? “Oh, hello, Merlin,” the woman said, smiling widely. There was something in her eyes that made Merlin feel as though she knew something he didn’t. “Is Arthur in? We were going to have dinner but nobody can find him anywhere.” 

It felt like someone had dropped a cold, hard stone into Merlin’s stomach. “Dinner,” he repeated dumbly, remembering seeing the appointment on Arthur’s agenda that morning. Suddenly, it all fell into place-- Arthur was aware of George’s strong suit with fancy dinners. It made sense for him to give Merlin the rest of the day off in such a case. “ He has a knack for this sort of thing,” Arthur had said mere moments ago. “Unlike you.” 

“Merlin?” Arthur asked from inside the chambers. “Is everything alright?” 

The warlock swallowed. “Of course,” he managed finally. “What do you think?” Arthur had asked. Oh, I’ve been an absolute fool. None of this is for me. “He’s been waiting for you, my lady,” Merlin said curtly, opening the door and letting Lady Genevieve in. She was wearing a rather concerned expression on her face, but Merlin couldn’t bear to look at her for too long. “I hope you enjoy dinner. I’ll be taking my leave.” 

Without even waiting for her to formally dismiss him, he stepped past her and closed the door of Arthur’s chambers behind himself, walking as quickly as he could down the hall without arousing suspicion. I can’t believe how stupid I was, he thought, eyes glued stubbornly to the floor. I had the audacity to think Arthur had all of that done for me. His vision was quickly going blurry, but he ignored it and kept walking, intent on being anywhere but here. I should have known from the start. He turned a corner, planning on going somewhere that nobody could track him down. He needed to be alone. Arthur’s been enchanted all this time. Enchanted with her. 

It took less than thirty seconds for Arthur to process what had happened. “He just left? ” His voice came out like a squeak, but he didn’t even have the time to embarrassed by it.

Lady Genevieve looked unfairly amused by the whole situation. “Without a second thought.” 

“Goddamnit,” Arthur groaned, racing towards the door. “Who knows what kind of stupid idea he’s got in his head now?” And it all seemed to be going so well, too. Without even considering how he must look to the guards and anyone else wandering about the castle, the King of Camelot strode into the halls with the intense focus and desperation of a madman, looking for a manservant who was determined not to be found.

Chapter Text

“Where the hell is that idiot?” Arthur groaned, burying his face in his hands. “We need to mobilize the guard.” 

“The guard ?” Leon blanched. “Sire, we can’t have the guard hunt down Merlin.” 

“Why not?” Arthur asked, crossing his arms. “He’s nowhere to be found, what if he’s in trouble?” 

“Merlin is plenty capable of outmaneuvering the guard,” Elyan piped up. “He knows Camelot better than all of them combined.” 

“Besides,” Percival added, clearing his throat. “He would definitely jump to conclusions.” 

“More than he already has?” Arthur grumbled, pushing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “What on Earth would he think now?” 

“That you’ve sent them to arrest him or something,” Gwaine blurted without thinking, earning an elbow in the ribs from Elyan. 

“Why in the name of the Triple Goddess would I arrest him?” Arthur asked, throwing his hands up in frustration. “Has he lost his mind?” 

“Treason, I guess,” Gwaine mumbled, and this time, Elyan looked full-out ready to tackle him. 

“How did you keep this under wraps until now?” Elyan hissed at Gwaine, trying his best not to attract the king’s attention. “You’re about to screw this up for everyone.” 

“I’m not that obvious!” Gwaine mumbled, crossing his arms. “Not as obvious as Merlin, anyways.” 

“Shut up!” This time, it was Percival. 

“He commits a lot of treason, it’s not like I said which treason I was talking ab--” The giant knight slapped a hand over Gwaine’s mouth, smiling widely at Arthur who wasn’t even looking their way. Instead, he was now pacing vigorously enough that the knights worried the floor would cave in. 

“We have to find him,” Arthur said, obviously in the middle of a lengthy monologue. “We can’t just sit around.” 

“With all due respect, Arthur, we haven’t been sitting around, exactly,” Leon said, fighting a yawn. “We’ve been searching since six in the evening yesterday.” 

“Yesterday?” Arthur looked up to see Leon’s tired face. “What time is it?” 

“I think the clock struck four,” Gwaine mumbled against Percival’s hand. 

“You can’t trust him, he can’t count past three,” Elyan sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “Merlin will be fine, sire. You need rest.” 

“Not until I find him.” 

“Arthur--” Leon started, but the king wasn’t ready to listen. He waved off all the complaints and advice adamantly, shaking his head. “Arthur, we can’t just keep going on like this.” 

“If you lot don’t want to help, fine! I’ll do it myself!” the king said, sounding suspiciously like a petulant child. 

Leon looked over to Lancelot helplessly, who was leaning against the doorframe, as sleep-deprived as the others but still looking unfairly gorgeous. Lance caught his look and sighed, shaking his head. He hadn’t gotten involved thus far, and he was unwilling to engage in his regular copious explanations and persuasions now that staying out of this whole mess had been working out splendidly so far.

As Leon seemed to be contemplating jumping out the window, a familiar pair of clicking footsteps echoed in the hall outside Arthur’s chambers, followed by the door flying open and Lancelot being knocked back rather unceremoniously. 

Morgana stood in the doorway, Gwen hovering behind her with sad and concerned eyes. Morgana’s sharp eyes flickered across the room, taking in the wilting flowers decorating the now-dark corners and cold food sitting untouched on the table.