Work Text:
The first time Arthur kissed Merlin, he had pulled him in, mid-argument, by the stupid piece of red cloth around his neck, not letting go as he pressed his lips eagerly to Merlin’s. He still remembered the way Merlin had frozen under his touch, uncertain why the King’s son was kissing his manservant. He still remembered the way that it only took him a moment to melt, surrendering to Arthur’s gentle assault. Merlin had dropped the bucket of water he’d been using to scrub the floors, but Arthur had barely noticed as he pushed Merlin back against a stone pillar, pressing their bodies together. He had been surprised by how strong Merlin’s body had been, lean muscle hard under his tunic, but he offered no resistance to Arthur’s actions as he deepened the kiss, all tongues and hot breaths and small moans captured in each other’s mouths.
Arthur hadn’t even noticed how tight he’d been gripping Merlin’s neckerchief until the other man had let out a small strangled cough.
Arthur had sprung back, immediately letting go. The feeling of blood rushing to his cheeks under Merlin’s wide eyed stare had been enough to make him turn away and change the subject completely, suddenly embarrassed by his actions and worried that Merlin would open his mouth to reject him. He wasn’t sure his heart - or, indeed, his ego - could have handled that.
“Anyway, as I was saying, the horses need mucking out, my armour needs polishing, and my boots need mending. Properly, this time.”
Arthur had picked up his goblet with a shaking hand from the table where he had slammed it down in frustration only minutes ago, and taken a long drink of wine to preclude him from having to answer whatever Merlin said next.
But he needn’t have worried - Merlin simply cleared his throat, collected Arthur’s armour from the table and left his chambers with a yes, Sire.
Gods, Arthur loved the way the word ‘sire’ rolled off Merlin’s tongue. He always said it with just the right amount of hinted sarcasm to drive Arthur crazy. Many a night, Arthur had fantasised about Merlin underneath him in his bed, moaning his name and calling him ‘sire’, wearing his neckerchief and nothing else.
Arthur shook himself from the haze that had settled in his mind, blushing, and instead found himself trying to look suitably dignified and regal, before realising he was alone in the room, and feeling like the idiot that Merlin always accused him of being.
***
After that, Arthur and Merlin found themselves kissing all over the castle. Pulling each other roughly aside into unused broom cupboards, nooks and crannies in the hallways, once - notably - hidden behind a floor length curtain, holding their breaths as Uther walked by with members of his council. Arthur was surprised to find that Merlin was just as brave as Arthur when it came to initiating their wordless, steamy, five-minute meetings. He had almost grown to anticipate a hand suddenly on his elbow when walking down a corridor alone, or for Merlin to wait until all the other knights had left the armoury before pushing Arthur roughly against a wall with surprising strength and kissing him silly.
It came as no real surprise when eventually, they were caught.
Arthur had initiated this one, pushing a mid-sentence Merlin into a recessed archway in the hall. One hand tugged on his neckerchief to keep him close, the other executed a newly-learned trick, grabbing a handful of Merlin’s hair and pulling it roughly, earning a moan that sent shivers down Arthur’s spine. He pulled Merlin’s head back a little, giving him access to the stunningly smooth skin of his neck, where he left wet kisses all the way from just under his adorably large ear down, down, down -
Arthur shifted the scarf aside, a blue one this time, to reveal the collection of fresh and fading marks that decorated Merlin’s collarbone, each one denoting a separate occasion. He was about to add another when footsteps rounded a nearby corner and the two boys sprung apart, trying to appear calm and collected.
Morgana passed them in a hurry, and for a moment they thought they were safe - until her footsteps stopped, and returned, and she appeared in the archway.
“Arthur. Merlin. How lovely to see you both.”
They shared a glance as both of them scrambled to come up with a cover story.
Arthur was the first to speak, with a curt nod of the head but not meeting her eyes. "Morgana."
"What are you boys up to?"
Arthur could tell. He could just tell, from the glint in her eye and the hint of mischief in her voice. Morgana had already figured it out.
It wasn't difficult, in all fairness. She had only needed to take one look at the pair of them, these boys who followed each other around everywhere, now blushing bright red with kiss-swollen lips and messy hair. She had raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow at the sight of the marks under Merlin's scarf, but said nothing. She may have relished the opportunity to tease Arthur about it all, but Merlin looked so much like a startled deer that she couldn't bring herself to be so cruel in his presence.
"Um. We're up to. Um. Merlin, what are we up to?"
Morgana had to stifle her laughter at the look of shock and indignation Merlin shot at Arthur, but she kept her face straight, just to see what he would say.
"We were just...uh...inspecting for...mice. I think there's mice. Here."
The look that Arthur shot Merlin was even funnier, and eventually Morgana just couldn't contain a snort of laughter.
"Well then, I'll leave you to your mice. It sounds very...important." With one last pointed look at a bewildered Arthur, Morgana walked away, smirking.
As soon as her footsteps faded from earshot, Merlin burst into fits of giggles.
‘’It’s not funny, Merlin!’’ Arthur tried to be serious, he really really tried, but Merlin’s laughter was infectious and despite himself he felt a grin spread across his face.
The only sound in the hallway was that of their laughter, and the birds singing from the parapets outside. Merlin’s hair fell into his eyes a little as he laughed, and Arthur wondered if he’d let it grow a little longer just for Arthur to weave his fingers through.
But then Merlin had grabbed his hand, and pulled him through the corridors with great haste, pushing him back and shushing his laughter every time they were nearly seen by a guard. It took Arthur a little while to figure out where they were going, but then suddenly they were outside his chamber doors and – oh.
Arthur enjoyed his afternoon very much.
***
Eventually they had to talk about it, of course. There was only so long they could go without actually verbally acknowledging the fact that they couldn’t keep their hands off one another.
Of course, Arthur insisted that there was nothing in it, it was just boys fooling around together and nothing more. But the look on Merlin’s face told him that he’d seen right through his boyish lie.
“You can admit it, Arthur.”
“No I can’t.”
“Oh, I see. The King’s son is too much of a wimp to admit how he feels.”
“I am not a wimp!”
“Prove it then!” Merlin’s cheeky, defiant grin, the one that turned Arthur on so so much, was quickly wiped off when Arthur’s face fell into scary-knight-mode and he started towards his manservant.
“Right. That’s it. Come here, you little –“
But before Arthur knew what had happened, Merlin had ducked under his arm, and disappeared out of the door, quick as a flash, leaving only an impression in the air of the biggest, most idiotic grin Arthur had ever seen.
***
“Come oooon, Arthur. Admit it. You got outsmarted by me.”
“Merlin. You couldn’t possibly outsmart me if you tried. I just…let you go, that’s all.”
“It was so easy! The look on your face…” Merlin trailed off into exaggerated laughter that was clearly intended to rile Arthur. And, like Merlin knew it would, it worked.
Arthur pulled up his horse, dismounted, and made a big show of stretching off his muscles before marching up to Merlin, grabbing his waist and pulling him off his horse. Merlin struggled, laughing so hard he could barely breathe, but eventually Arthur managed to sling him over one broad shoulder and carry him into the nearby woodland.
“Right. If it’s so easy, you can do it again.”
“Oh, can I?”
Arthur deposited Merlin on the ground, not un-gently, and pinned him there with his entire body, smug smirk starting to creep onto his lips. “Unless you’d rather make up for your insolence some other way?”
The ride home was not particularly comfortable for either of them.
***
Eventually, Merlin found something of Arthur’s that he liked, just as much as he knew Arthur loved his neckerchiefs.
Arthur had come of age to be crowned Prince of Camelot, and the ceremony was largely as boring as it was regal. But Merlin had felt it in his bones, when Arthur had knelt before the King and been pronounced Prince, that this man in front of him would achieve great things. Arthur represented hope, he represented fairness. Merlin could not have found a more worthy successor to the throne if he had held interviews with every citizen of Camelot.
Of course, he might have been a little biased.
That night, after a long evening of wine, music, dancing and more than their fair share of prolonged, intense eye contact, Arthur and Merlin retired to Arthur’s chambers. As soon as the door shut behind them they were on one another, hands fumbling at buttons and laces, struggling between the want to remove clothes and the need to be touched, constantly. There was an ongoing war between them, a war for control – Merlin would shove Arthur roughly into the wall, Arthur would push him right back and pin him to the bed. Neither wanted to let the other win, but on this occasion Arthur’s superior strength won out and eventually, Merlin found himself wearing nothing but his neckerchief on Arthur’s bed, the Prince on top of him, gently sucking small bruises into his neck that he knew would take a week to fade.
Merlin let his fingers run over his latest object of fascination – second only in his list of favourite things to Arthur’s face, of course – the thin band of intricately jewelled gold, settled perfectly into Arthur’s equally golden hair.
“You like it?”
Merlin kept as neutral an expression as he could possibly manage, knowing that Arthur would still see right through him. “I guess it suits you.”
Arthur’s dashing grin made Merlin’s heart melt a little. “Shut up, you love it. I can see it in your eyes. You can’t lie to me, Merlin.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
It didn’t take Merlin long before the shiny new crown was all that Arthur was wearing, and he was secretly delighted when it didn’t follow the rest of his clothes to the floor.
Arthur wasted no time in reaching for the bottle of oil in his bedside drawers, dripping the stuff teasingly down Merlin’s chest before slicking his fingers up and working them gently inside Merlin, arousal growing stronger and stronger with every second that he watched Merlin writhe under his touch, biting his lip and never once breaking eye contact.
It didn’t take long before neither of them could wait any longer. Merlin grabbed his hips and gave him a look that said please, and Arthur withdrew his fingers and lined his hips up with Merlin’s, a movement so well-practiced that it was second nature to both of them. Oh so gently, Arthur pushed himself in, relishing the feeling of Merlin around him, and the way his name sounded when it fell breathlessly from Merlin’s lips. Arthur shuddered, then melted, and immediately settled into a steady pace that infused all of Merlin’s bones with a kind of deeply felt pleasure that only Arthur could make him feel. The only sound, save the distant echo of the ongoing party downstairs, was the whispers of each other’s names that fell relentlessly from their lips, soft pleas and wordless groans. Time seemed to stop existing. Destiny and kingdoms melted away and all that Merlin knew was Arthur, Arthur, Arthur, over and over again until the sun began to rise and they fell, exhausted, into sleep.
***
Being officially Crown Prince was not a duty that Arthur took lightly, and as such it was not an uncommon occurrence for him to collapse into his chair at the end of the day and slump over the table, crown discarded to one side until the next morning, when he would put his power back on like well-worn clothing, and face another day.
Sometimes Merlin comforted him with words, and sometimes with his body, but either way those evenings would always end with the Prince and his manservant tangled together in bed, holding one another as if they were the only things that really mattered.
And in the end, they were. Arthur had said as much one night, a night when the rain lashed at the windows and wind howled around the parapets, a night when he lay with Merlin’s head on his chest and absentmindedly combed his fingers through waves of midnight-black hair.
We could do anything, Merlin.
I know.
We could run away from here. Find a farm, live the simple life.
Merlin had snorted, and reminded Arthur that he wouldn’t have the first clue how to farm, and that if they were going to be running away together he wouldn’t be volunteering to do all the work.
But the sentiment had haunted his mind for days, like warm rays of sun on a summer’s afternoon, and every time Merlin felt threatened, or hopeless, or exhausted, he would picture them together – a tiny hut, a few goats. It never failed to make him smile.
Of course, destiny had other plans for Arthur Pendragon.
***
The day that Arthur discovered Merlin’s magic had been one of those days when Arthur’s destiny had been tested, again, and prevailed, again.
A border patrol gone wrong had ended in a lifeless, bleeding Arthur, and a frantic Merlin too caught up in his desperate attempts to save his Prince to notice that the other knights were watching him as his eyes glowed gold and he shouted foreign incantations with all the healing power he could muster. The spell had worked, and Merlin had collapsed, sobbing, relief flooding him until he met Leon’s appalled gaze and fear slammed back into his chest.
Please, please don’t kill me. I only use it for Arthur. Please, Leon, I swear.
***
The next few weeks were the roughest of Merlin’s life. Of course Arthur had been informed, upon reawakening, that his manservant had healed him, and at first he hadn’t believed it. But then he’d felt a hand to his magically disappeared wound, and taken in the shocked faces of all his most trusted knights, and the look of sheer terror and vulnerability on Merlin’s face, and the sting and sway of betrayal had taken over.
Merlin had spent three days in the cells – supposedly for a having a passionate disagreement with Lancelot – but the knights had all been sworn to secrecy for his real reason for being there, and by Arthur, no less. For those three days, it was Merlin’s only hope that Arthur wasn’t about to let Uther execute him.
On the morning of the fourth day, Arthur wordlessly unlocked the door and left.
On the tenth day, he completely ignored Merlin when he visited Gaius’ chambers for a sleeping draught.
On the nineteenth day, he grunted some kind of greeting at Merlin in the corridor, but didn’t meet his eye.
Merlin dreaded the moment he would have to face Arthur’s unbridled wrath, but it had never come. Instead, early one morning George had arrived at Gaius’ door to inform Merlin that the Prince was awaiting his breakfast.
The walk from the kitchens to Arthur’s chambers had never felt so long. When he entered, Arthur was standing in the window, looking out onto the castle grounds. He didn’t speak as Merlin laid out his breakfast, he didn’t even move.
The first time Merlin tried to speak, no words came out, so he cleared his throat and tried again, pulse racing. “Will that be all, Sire?”
Arthur didn’t turn around. “Sit down, Merlin.” His voice was worryingly calm.
A long pause, while Merlin followed Arthur’s command.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Merlin knew, now, that he had to be honest. Any more lies would cause him to lose Arthur completely. “I was afraid Uther would execute me if he ever found out. I was afraid you’d tell him.”
“I would never have done that to you, Merlin.”
“I know. But I wasn’t about to risk my life on that knowledge.” The words sounded snappier than Merlin had intended.
Another pause.
“How long have you been practicing magic? How long have you lied to me?”
“I was…I was born with it, Arthur. I can’t change it. I’ve lied to you since the day we met.” The admission of guilt felt like someone had dropped bricks on Merlin’s chest.
“How can I trust you, now?” Finally, Arthur turned, long brown coat swirling behind him.
Merlin was caught in his gaze for too long, the first time Arthur had really looked at him since he’d found out. “I…I don’t know. I understand if you can’t trust me, ever again.” The words made Merlin wince. “But I’m not lying when I say that I only ever use it for you, Arthur. My magic has a purpose, and that’s to keep you alive long enough to become the greatest King that Camelot has ever seen, and unite the lands of Albion.” Merlin looked at his feet. “So far I’ve done a pretty good job.”
“You mean to say you’ve saved my life?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
Merlin stayed silent, not wanting to take the credit for victories that Arthur thought were his.
“When, Merlin?”
Something in Arthur’s tone snapped Merlin’s gaze back up. No more lies. “I…I lost count.”
After that, Arthur had demanded detailed explanations of as many scenarios as Merlin could remember. The questioning was relentless, but Merlin was just glad that Arthur was talking to him at all, and seemingly not about to start building an execution pyre.
It was almost sundown by the time Arthur fell silent, hair messy from his fingers running through it all day, face drawn and eyes rimmed with red.
“Why didn’t you have me executed?”
“You know why, Merlin.”
You know why. That was the closest Arthur ever came to saying it, that most vulnerable thing that Arthur could possibly say. But this time, it wasn’t enough. Merlin needed to hear it.
“Tell me, Arthur. Please.”
It was a long, silent moment before Arthur dragged his gaze up to meet Merlin’s. His voice was no more than a whisper. “Because…because I love you, Merlin.”
***
Their relationship slowly recovered, over the next weeks. Merlin could sense Arthur’s wariness around him, could sense the way he shied away from Merlin’s touch, could sense all the things Arthur wasn’t saying. But gradually, his barriers came down a little and they started joking together again, treading lightly at first. The first time Arthur told Merlin to shut up, in that playful way he always did, Merlin nearly cried. The only reason he didn’t was because he knew Arthur would have teased him for a month.
One evening, Arthur asked Merlin to show him some magic, and his already bright eyes had lit up in a mix of fear and awe at the garden of wildflowers that erupted all across Arthur’s table. That had been it, then – Arthur hadn’t been able to stop himself leaning in and pressing his lips to Merlin’s, again, finally.
Merlin slept in Arthur’s bed that night, and in the morning, watching Merlin sleep soundly through the sunrise, Arthur had decided that his first act as King would be to repeal the magic ban.
***
Over a year later, and Merlin’s secret successfully kept, Arthur found himself in bed, sweaty and panting, slowly coming down from the incredible high he had just experienced at the mercy of Merlin’s mouth.
Merlin crawled back up his body, collapsing in a grinning heap beside him, and tangled their limbs together. His kiss tasted salty but Arthur lapped up every last drop of his own taste from Merlin’s tongue, satisfied and content.
They lay together, awake in the semi-darkness, tracing lips and jaws and collarbones with gentle fingers.
It was only when Merlin’s fingers brushed across it that Arthur realised he was still wearing his crown. He watched Merlin watching him, blue eyes taking in every part of his face in the darkness, and had an idea. He sat up in the bed, encouraging a confused Merlin to follow suit, and faced him.
His fingers lifted the crown from his own head and settled it across Merlin’s brow. The crown looked so much better, so much more striking and beautiful, against the backdrop of Merlin’s raven-black hair, Arthur thought. The way the moonlight shone in Merlin’s eyes and caught his high cheekbones made him look like a Prince himself.
“When I am King, things will be different.” He reached out one hand to brush Merlin’s cheek with his fingertips. “We won’t have to hide anymore.”
***
And one day, several years later, Arthur did become King.
Everyone in the castle knew about them by now, the blond and the brunette, as inseparable as they were infuriating. But nobody ever mentioned it, like a secret passed unspoken between servants and courtiers, it was no more than a whisper in the night.
So when Merlin’s shout of “long live the King!” echoed around the hall just a little louder than everyone else’s, he wasn’t surprised at the not-so-subtle glances thrown his way. But truth be told, he wasn’t looking at any of them, he was looking at Arthur, his Arthur, King Arthur.
THE END