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Merlin knows, logically, that he shouldn't be feeling nostalgic for Nimueh, or Edwin, or the Siidhe. He knows that just about every time he or Arthur have gone up against a skilled sorcerer, they've gotten incredibly lucky. He knows that a rematch with almost any of the sorcerers he's faced could be suicidal.

But nonetheless, at the moment, he can't help but long to face someone who actually knows what they're doing.

Beside Merlin, Arthur trips and stumbles, and Merlin can feel his own body reeling from the shock of the spell that just coursed through them both. He's dizzy and nauseous and the ground seems to collide with his knees rather suddenly. Beside him, Arthur is retching.

The young sorceress in front of them looks as horrified as Merlin feels, her mouth opening and closing comically.

"What the hell did you just do?" Arthur says, and it's really very strange to hear that brand of spitting contempt come from Merlin's mouth. It's also quite strange to suddenly find himself to be wearing armor, to be bigger, to not be himself at all.

"That--that wasn't--" the girl stutters, and Arthur is already pushing himself to his feet and advancing, lunging at her. It's beyond strange--not just to watch his body move when he is outside of it, but to see himself move so instinctively and physically aggressively, like he's certain that he'll take down whatever it is he's aiming for.

The sorceress swiftly steps back, alarm replacing the horror on her face, and before Arthur can reach her she shouts a spell (screeches it, really) and there's a bang and lots of smoke. It's a messy, poorly done disappearing act: her shoes are left behind.

Arthur coughs and waves away the smoke in front of his face. "Gods damn it, what the hell?"

Merlin realizes he's still kneeling and staring dumbly. He stands hurriedly, and the ground is farther away than he's used to, and worse, far far worse, it's not there--he can't feel it--"Oh--"

At his exclamation, Arthur whirls around to glare at him. "Well?" he demands, and Merlin can hear how much higher his voice is than Arthur's, and Arthur's pitching it higher now in his hysteria.

"Well what?" Arthur's face (Merlin's face) is getting redder and redder, but Merlin is distracted. He can feel fear choking his throat, because it's gone, he can't reach it, his magic's gone.

He's helpless.

Arthur actually stamps his foot, clearly working himself up into one of his particularly tiresome tantrums--not that Merlin can blame him, in this case; he'd be screaming and stamping, too, if he weren't too terrified to move.

"I'm stuck in your body!" Arthur hollers, as if it weren't obvious. "And you're in mine! What--how--"

"I don't think she meant to do that," Merlin says, and his voice sounds oddly detached to his ears, automatic calm disguising his own increasing panic.

"Oh, really." Arthur is stalking up to him now, his features clouding over, and--and it's just too bizarre to watch himself advancing furiously upon himself, like your reflection in the mirror is angry with you. Merlin snorts a little, and Arthur stops.

"You think this is funny, I suppose?"

Merlin shakes his head. The initial horror at the loss of his magic is turning into a sort of numb dread pooling in his stomach. He feels like all of his strings have been cut. "No--I just, it sort of looks like my ears stick out further when I'm angry."

Arthur instantly grabs at and covers his ears, before realizing what he's doing and snatching his hands back down to his sides. He looks like he dearly wants to hit Merlin. "I'm just so damn glad you're taking this so well."

Merlin feels the urge to laugh again. Has Arthur realized the potential of what he's feeling inside his body yet? How long before he clues in, and Merlin gets sentenced to death?

On the bright side, it's not like Uther would execute him while he was occupying Arthur's body. He has that going for him, for now.

"You should be glad--one of us should be keeping a calm head on his shoulders, don't you think?" Merlin crosses his arms and turns away from Arthur to look back at the path they need to get back through the forest. The simple motion makes the hole in him yawn wider, and the huge absence makes him still. Dear god, he feels like he can barely function. It's not so much missing a limb as it is missing his whole gut.

He takes a couple steps down the path, still feeling unsteady, but the ground is beginning to feel a little surer beneath him. It had never occurred to him that his magic ran so deep that it might influence such a thing as his balance.

Merlin's magic doesn't seem to be affecting Arthur in Merlin's body yet. Arthur shoves him as he storms past, walking faster down the path with his head held up high. Merlin can hear him muttering something, but he only catches "ridiculous."

Annoyance and anger swell inside him, directed at Arthur even though this isn't really Arthur's fault. But isn't that rich, Arthur throwing a fit at the horrible injustice of ending up in Merlin's body, when Arthur isn't the one losing his greatest gift in the process. Merlin storms after him down the path.

"This doesn't just affect you, you know!" he says. "You don't have to act like--"

Arthur turns around abruptly enough that Merlin bumps into him. "You are stupid," he spits out. "I'm stuck in a scrawny servant's body, and you expect me to believe that you simply loathe suddenly becoming a prince?"

"If your head grew any bigger, it wouldn't fit on your shoulders," Merlin snaps back. "I promise I'm liking this even less than you are!"

Arthur rolls his eyes and scoffs, and Merlin doesn't know how he manages to convey derision so well when that isn't even Arthur's own face. "Please. As if you wouldn't enjoy my body!"

Merlin blinks and then laughs, and Arthur turns red. "As if you wouldn't," he repeats mulishly before spinning around and stomping off again.

Merlin watches Arthur closely as they make their way back to their horses and the castle, but if Arthur detects the magic in Merlin's body, he doesn't show it. Merlin supposes that it makes sense that Arthur wouldn't know what he was feeling--might not feel anything at all, actually. It's not like it would immediately announce its presence or neatly arrange itself as a simple tool for Arthur to use.

And of course Arthur won't know how to use it--not on purpose, at any rate. Merlin's magic has been a part of his life for as long as he can remember: when he was still crawling, an idle thought of wanting something, a treat or a blanket or his mother, would drag that thing to him. When he got old enough to understand, he had to spend hours training himself to keep his magic from giving him anything he subconsciously desired.

Arthur's already horribly accustomed to getting what he wants. How long before he glances at a glass of wine and the glass floats to him from across the room? Merlin can't even trust himself in his own skin to keep his magic hidden, half the time--how can he possibly trust Arthur to?

Merlin shakes his head, trying to clear it of impending panic and doom. He trots to catch up to Arthur, who seems to stumble once for every two steps he takes.

"Your body is bollocks," Arthur snaps at him when Merlin's at his side.

"You're the one who's being clumsy," Merlin says. "And I assure you, your body is just as difficult to get used to."

Arthur makes a noise of disgust and kicks at some bushes by the side of the path. "I can't believe we're even discussing these things."

"It's ridiculous," Merlin agrees. "I didn't even know magic could do that."

Arthur rolls his eyes at him, and the familiarly condescending look doesn't fit on Merlin's facial features at all. "Magic can do all sorts of nasty things. This is an excellent example of why it's forbidden in the kingdom."

"Mm," Merlin says, rather than pointing out that this is actually an excellent example of why Merlin should be able to use his magic freely to prevent incidents like this. He presses his tongue against his teeth--Arthur's teeth, which are larger than his, it seems. Arthur has a gap between his two front teeth, as well, that Merlin's never noticed before.

"Oh, gods," Arthur says after they've been tramping along for a while. "I just realized--I'm going to have to see you naked!"

Merlin stares at him. "If you took off your clothes, then you'd be me naked right now," he says. "It's not exactly a huge bloody deal, and it's not like my body's offensive in some way, you ass."

"I don't want to be you naked!" Arthur says, looking entirely pathetic. "This is--this is unacceptable!"

"Grow up, my lord," Merlin says, shoving Arthur aside with his shoulder to walk ahead on the path.

The trees thin out and they find themselves back in the meadow where their horses are waiting. "Finally," Arthur says, more dramatically than the situation calls for, Merlin feels. Arthur goes to his horse, but the stallion snorts and stamps and shies away from him, walking toward Merlin.

"Er, I don't think he knows you. In my body." Merlin looks at the horse nervously, as it's larger and more hot-tempered than any horse he's had to ride before.

"I can see that," Arthur says through gritted teeth, mounting Merlin's mare instead.

They ride in silence, and Merlin almost misses Arthur's griping, because this gives him too much time to really feel the sickly absence of his magic. It's sort of like being hungry, or thirsty, except that it isn't at all. And Arthur's body is bigger and more muscled than his own, and he breathes different, sees different, smells and hears different from Merlin. Merlin feels like he's one wrong move away from falling off his horse and breaking something--breaking something in a body that's borrowed, even.

Merlin's mind wanders further the closer they get to Camelot. Can Arthur's horse tell that its rider isn't Arthur, now that it's being ridden? Merlin's a good rider, but this horse is a charger bred specifically for kings, and Arthur's been riding him for years. Or maybe, since he's in Arthur's body, Arthur's body is doing what it always does on a horse--maybe Arthur's muscles just know what to do. For that matter, if Merlin were to pick up a sword, would Arthur's arms retain any of Arthur's skill? What about his skill at wrestling, jousting--is that all in Arthur's brain and soul, or is it just his body knowing the movements?

For that matter--oh no, what if Merlin's body carries body memory of doing magic? Merlin uses it for so many little, stupid things: calling objects to him from across the room, household chores, keeping himself from falling if he trips. What if his body still wants to do those things, whether or not Arthur wants to do those things?

By the time they get home, Merlin's worked himself up into such a state that he's almost ready to turn his horse around and gallop away in Arthur's body. But he doesn't want to be in this world if he doesn't have his magic and he wouldn't do that to Arthur, and anyway here they are, stepping down from their horses in the stables and walking through the castle gates. Arthur's already walking ahead to the throne room, apparently not giving a damn that it might seem strange for Prince Arthur's servant to be walking heedlessly in front of Prince Arthur.

Arthur throws open the doors to the throne room, striding boldly in like he would normally. "Father--"

Merlin grabs his arm, and Arthur stops, wavering as the whole court turns to stare at them. Uther frowns slightly, looking only at Merlin; Arthur's servant speaking out of turn is inconsequential.

Merlin claps a hand around Arthur's shoulders and does his best to imitate the condescending look Arthur gets when he's explaining to someone that Merlin's an idiot. "Sire," he says to Uther, and he can feel Arthur's glare, very un-servantlike. "May I request an audience?"

Uther's frown deepens, and Merlin wonders whether he was too meek--perhaps Arthur usually demands an audience. And yes, too meek: "Later today," Uther says, turning back to the knight he'd been addressing.

Merlin can feel how stiff Arthur is. He clears his throat. "It is a matter of urgency, I'm afraid." He searches the room for Gaius, finds him and meets his eyes. "Gaius should be here as well," he says meaningfully, doing the best he can to convey that it's him, Merlin dammit, but Gaius just looks confused.

Uther stares, and mentioning Gaius did the trick: now Uther fears some sort of physical ailment. "Very well," he says slowly. The rest of the courtiers are dismissed, and Arthur waits till his father isn't looking to angrily shrug Merlin's arm off his shoulders.

"Never speak for me again," he says under his breath, glaring at Merlin.

"And you'll tell me, of course, how else we were to manage that performance," Merlin mutters back.

"Well?" Uther says once the courtiers have all filed out of the room. His arms are crossed, and he is still calmly staring only at Merlin. It makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

"We--" Merlin stops, realizing that he has no idea how on earth he should explain this.

And Arthur has obviously grown impatient. "It's me, Father," he says, taking several steps forward. "I'm Arthur."

Uther blinks at Arthur and gives a half-laugh before turning back to Merlin. "Haven't I told you that you need to keep better control of your servant?"

Merlin hears Arthur hiss in a breath. "It's true," Merlin says. "I'm Merlin, he is Arthur. We--we got switched, you see, there was a sorceress--"

"What?" Of course Uther is serious now, and Merlin wants to stamp his feet in exasperation.

"I am Merlin! I realize I look like Arthur but it's me, Merlin, and he--" he jabs his finger at Arthur's chest. "--is Arthur. Here, I'll prove it, I'll tell Gaius something that only Merlin could know." He meets Gaius' eyes again, and from the expression on Gaius' face, he suspects that Gaius has guessed what the horrifying problem is here.

"And I'll tell you something that only I--that only Arthur could know," Arthur says, giving his father a beseeching look.

Uther looks back and forth between them, his brow furrowed. It must be so tricky, Merlin thinks, to not know which boy to mistreat because he's a servant and which to mistreat because he's your son.

"Fine, then," Uther says, grabbing Arthur's elbow and shooting Merlin one last suspicious glare over his shoulder as he and Arthur move to another corner of the room. Gaius is already at Merlin's side, his arm on Merlin's shoulder.

"Well, then?" Gaius says, the lines of his face taut.

"Gaius, he knows! Or--or he doesn't yet, but he will!" Merlin is aware he's flailing a bit, and tries to lower his voice. "My magic is in that body, I don't have it anymore. It's in him now."

"Oh--oh no," Gaius says as he comprehends, staring in Arthur's direction.

"Exactly," Merlin says, and part of him had hoped that Gaius would tell him it was nothing to worry about--that Merlin had exaggerated this danger in his own mind. But those hopes are dashed by the look on Gaius' face. "I don't think he's realized what it is he must be feeling, and as far as I can tell he hasn't done any magic. But..."

"But it's only a matter of time," Gaius says, looking back to Merlin. "The only hope we have of keeping your secret safe is to fix this immediately."

Merlin nods, feeling as helpless as he did at the moment his magic first left him. "The only hope," he repeats. "Except that I can't fix it with my powers, and we don't even know who that sorceress was."

"Well--"

Gaius is cut off by Uther. "Very well then, I believe you both," he says, turning back to them. His mouth is set in a thin line, and he still has a hand on Arthur's shoulder. The glare he gives Merlin makes Merlin's blood run cold; it's very plain that the king hates the idea of anyone else in his son's body.

Merlin agrees with him there. He'd give anything to be back in himself.

"We will find this sorceress," Uther says. "And we will do what it takes to convince her to reverse the spell."

Arthur looks away, and Merlin swallows. "I don't think she meant to do what she did," he hears himself saying. "It seemed like it was a mistake, and she was very young!"

Merlin fervently wishes that someone would just sew his lips shut for him. Uther has an excuse now to be furious at Merlin, and he cringes as the king's eyes narrow.

"You would defend her? She attacked the crown prince, this was likely an attempt on his life! For that matter--how are we to know that you didn't have some part in setting this up?"

"Father, don't be absurd." Arthur's voice is sharp and immediate, and Merlin's pathetically grateful; facing down the king has not gotten easier for him. "Merlin would never--"

"You find it so hard to believe that a servant would want to switch places with a prince?" Uther's speaking to Arthur, but his glare at Merlin doesn't waver.

"Merlin wouldn't do that," Arthur says, shrugging, and Merlin's not sure if Arthur's certainty comes from faith in Merlin's character or faith in his lack of any ability to cunningly conspire.

"I wouldn't, I swear--" Merlin stutters, but Gaius squeezes his arm hard.

"Arthur's right, sire," Gaius says. "Even if Merlin did desire this outcome, I've seen this sort of spell before, and there's absolutely no way that the boy could have somehow helped the sorceress to do this."

"And I wouldn't," Merlin insists, jerking his arm away from Gaius. "I promise, I want to be back in my own skin as much as Arthur does!"

"Be quiet," Uther snaps, and Merlin bites down hard on his tongue. "I'll assume your innocence for now, but if we find who did this and she has anything to say about you--" He gives Merlin a dark look, and Merlin swallows and nods.

"So now what?" Arthur is cross, and it's--it continues to be beyond strange to see Arthur's sulky expressions on Merlin's own face. "What can we do?"

"I will find out all I can about who the sorceress might be, as well as what the spell is," Gaius says. "There may be a slight chance that we can undo it using science, rather than magic."

Uther glances between the three of them. "I'll put together a team of our knights to search the forests where you came across the sorceress," he says. "Gods willing, they'll find her quickly enough."

"A team of--you're not suggesting that I won't be leading the search?" Arthur looks utterly dismayed.

"You both will be staying in the castle," Uther says. "Only the four of us must know--I can't let word get out that magic was used so effectively against my own son."

"But--" Arther and Merlin say, almost in unison, but the king is already shaking his head.

"Both of you will just have to make your presence scarce, and when you do have to speak to anyone, masquerade as each other."

"So we're just going to let him pretend to be a prince?!" Arthur gives Merlin a furious, indignant look, as if this could possibly be something that Merlin wants.

"And you'll have to pretend to be his servant, yes." Uther holds Arthur's gaze while Arthur sputters, and out of the corner of his eye, Merlin can see Gaius covering a smile.

Merlin can't really see the humor in the situation. Arthur pretending to be his servant doesn't mean that Arthur's lost the ability to have him killed if he finds out what Merlin can do.

Uther dismisses them, and as soon as they're out of the courtroom Arthur turns to go down a different hall, away from Merlin.

"Wait, Ar--where are you going?" Merlin calls, catching up with him.

"Away from you," Arthur answers rudely.

Merlin catches his shoulder, pulling him back. "We should stick together." He's not exactly sure why they should stick together, except for how they always do, and if Arthur accidentally uses magic, Merlin wants to be there for damage control.

"It's bad enough that I'm stuck in your body, I'm not going to be stuck with you as well." Arthur glowers at him, and Merlin lets him go, stung despite himself.

"Fine, then," he says. "Have fun sleeping in servants' quarters tonight."

Arthur gives him a disgusted look. "I knew you were enjoying this." Before Merlin can reply, Arthur's walking away from him, and Merlin lets him go.

What a prat.

Merlin heads to Arthur's chambers, and he's distracted enough by his bad temper that he doesn't notice Gwen until he almost runs into her.

"Gwen, hey!" he says, relieved as always to see her.

But she's bowing her head. "Oh, ah, my lord," she says, and even when she's at her most flustered, she never sounds so nervous with him.

Of course she doesn't--Merlin remembers who he is. "Yes, hello," he says, deflated.

Gwen's smiling at him almost like he's a friend. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"What? No, of course not." Merlin finds suddenly that he would give anything to have Gwen look at him the way she does when he's running his mouth or doing something dumb or embarrassing. He wants to peel off Arthur's face like a mask and reveal that it's him, really him, and Gwen would listen as he explained the whole thing, and let him panic but cut him off before he got too hysterical, and she'd know what to say to make him feel better and maybe even have some kind of useful suggestion.

If he'd switched bodies with Gwen, he thinks, perhaps he wouldn't feel so miserable. Not that he wants to be a girl, but she'd probably do a better job in his body than the current git running around masquerading as Merlin.

Gwen is still giving him that polite smile, and Merlin wants to say something that would make her stick around and talk to him. He could just order her to keep him company, he realizes, but--no, no he couldn't. "Erm, how are you?"

Gwen frowns just a little. "I'm... well, I suppose," she says. "And--and yourself?" She curtsies and bows her head again, and Merlin grins.

"Well enough," he says. "How are things going with the court seamstress?" Gwen's been telling him about her epic feud with the seamstress and the quest to get a certain dress for Morgana finished correctly all week.

Gwen stares at him. "Things are just fine," she says. "How did you--?"

Oh, damn. "Morgana told me," Merlin says quickly. "Good, that's good, I'm glad things are going all right."

Gwen looks like she would be backing slowly away from him if he weren't the prince. "Yes, well. I'm--glad that things are all right with you, your highness."

"Don't call me that," Merlin says, and then feels color flood to his cheeks.

"Of--of course, I won't," Gwen says, and this isn't working at all. It's not like talking to Gwen, it's something totally different.

"Well, I'm sure you're busy," Merlin says, and he can't hold back a sigh. "I'll let you get on your way."

Gwen bows her head again and backs away from him. "Thank you, your--um, my lord." She gives him a smile that, at least, is more friendly than nervous, and Merlin listens to her footsteps as she turns the corner and walks down the hall toward Morgana's quarters.

He makes his way to Arthur's quarters. He passes three servants on the way: a maid scrubbing the floors who drops her head and murmurs "your majesty" and doesn't look up or return to her work until he's past; a guard who salutes him and asks if there's anything he can do for him; and a very young page who stares at him with wide eyes and stutters his greeting.

Merlin feels horribly dispirited when he gets to his room, and his mood doesn't improve when he sees Arthur (sees himself, this is so damned strange) waiting outside his door.

"What do you want?" Merlin says.

If Arthur hears Merlin's unfriendly tone, he doesn't acknowledge it. "Where have you been? I need your help, come on, we have to go!"

Merlin folds his arms and leans against the door to Arthur's chambers. "I'm failing to see how this involves me."

"I know you're the worst servant in the history of the world and you're technically now in my body, but you are still my servant," Arthur says, belatedly looking around to make sure no one's overhearing them. "I demand that you help me."

Merlin rolls his eyes. "You're insufferable."

Arthur somehow interprets this as 'yes Arthur, of course I will help you with anything that you ask, I live to humbly serve you,' because he grabs Merlin's sleeve and starts walking back down the hall. "So I may have run into Sir Bedevere."

"And?" says Merlin, being dragged.

"Hurry up, won't you? He thought I was you, of course, and I may have been--well, improper, for a servant."

Of course Arthur's already causing problems in Merlin's life. Of course.

"Anyway, as punishment he demanded that I mend his evening clothes." Arthur cringes, and looks at Merlin expectantly.

Merlin stares back. "I'm failing to see how this involves me."

"Well I'm certainly not going to do it," Arthur says, and not for the first time, Merlin dearly wishes that he could smack the prince upside the head.

He jerks his arm out of Arthur's grasp. "Getting stuck in your body is punishment enough! Servant or no, I'm not dealing with some knight's smelly clothes just because you decided to be a rude bastard!"

"I wasn't rude, I just--and what do you mean you won't?" Arthur's puffing up his chest with righteous indignation at his horrid servant, but Merlin's chest doesn't puff up well. It looks rather funny. "I order you to mend Bedevere's clothes!"

"Go boil your head," Merlin replies and turns around to head back to Arthur's room.

Arthur catches his arm again. "But you have to," he says, and when Merlin looks at him he flushes. "I... I don't know how to sew."

Merlin stares. "You're joking."

Arthur glares at him. "It's women's and servants' work. I've always had others who did it for me."

Merlin doesn't say that Arthur's the most spoiled brat he's ever met, because beneath Arthur's anger he can tell that Arthur's embarrassed. Merlin's going to help him, of course, and considering the way his luck has gone today, a simple sewing job will probably blow up into another disaster.

He sighs. "It won't do for anyone to see the crown prince mending a knight's breeches," he says. "We'll have to be careful so that no one sees."

Arthur brightens and claps Merlin on the back, which Merlin recognizes as Arthur's repressed way of saying 'thank you.' "Of course, I'll keep watch."

"You should really learn," Merlin says as they make their way to Bedevere's chambers. "What if you find you have to mend your battle clothes while out on a campaign?"

Arthur shrugs. "If all my servants and knights are dead or too injured to do it for me, then torn clothing won't be the worst of my problems."

Merlin makes a face. "I suppose not. Still--why would you want to have to rely on someone else to do such a basic thing for you?"

Arthur gives Merlin an unreadable look. "I just want Bedevere's clothes to be washed and mended so that he doesn't try to have you thrown in the stocks, Merlin."

Of course: if Bedevere isn't pacified, Arthur ultimately won't be the one who suffers for it. Merlin glowers at him. "How gracious of you, looking out for me like that," he says.

Arthur just grins at him. "I do my best, my lord."

Merlin blinks at the moniker, and then notices one of the court ladies--damn, he can't remember her name--coming down the hall. He bows to her in greeting, and she curtsies briefly before they both walk on.

The women in the washing room have been notified that Merlin will be around to pick up Bedevere's clothes, and Merlin waits outside while Arthur retrieves the load. It's a lot, several tunics and at least one pair of breeches that Merlin can spot, and Arthur carries them all the way to Merlin's room--it wouldn't do, after all, for the prince to be seen carrying laundry.

Arthur mostly just paces Merlin's room while Merlin sews; occasionally he'll come to look over Merlin's shoulder while Merlin tries to teach him the basics, but it's obviously not a craft that holds his interest. Occasionally Merlin will glance up to see that Arthur's movements have stilled and he's just standing there, watching impassively. Something about his lack of expression makes Merlin bite his tongue against asking what on earth Arthur's staring at.

Merlin's been able to sew well enough to fix his own clothing since he was quite young, but he's never exactly been talented at it--and for years he's been able to use magic to mend holes, anyway. Obviously he can't do that now, and it takes him longer than it should to work his way through the three tunics, the breeches, and the pair of hose.

By the time he's done, the sky is dark and his shoulders ache from being hunched over. During the last stretch of sewing he entertains himself by imagining all sorts of horribly embarrassing (and un-fatal) situations for Arthur to end up in.

He finishes the last tunic, and feels a hand on his shoulder. He looks up, and the corner of Arthur's lips turns up in a smile. "Finished?"

The wave of annoyance that's been building up inside Merlin crests and crashes. He balls up the tunic and shoves it at Arthur's chest. "Here you are, sire," he snaps, already standing and moving towards the door. "Do try not to get me sentenced to death while in my body."

"Merlin!" Arthur's actually managed to look sort of guilty and apologetic when Merlin looks over his shoulder, and--and it's kind of difficult to maintain anger against himself, but Arthur's infuriating enough that Merlin endures.

"What, did you need anything else? Should I go muck out Bedevere's stables, too?"

Arthur cringes. "Thank you for doing the sewing. I swear, I didn't anger him on purpose, I'm just--just not used to acting like a servant."

Merlin holds back words that might get him thrown in the stocks even if he is in Arthur's body. "That much is painfully obvious!"

Arthur scowls at him, and Merlin scowls right back. "Look, I'm sorry."

"Oh, that's just rich." Merlin shakes his head and walks out of the room, groaning when he hears Arthur behind him.

"Hey, come on, where are you going?"

"Away from you," Merlin snaps, which actually makes Arthur pause a moment. But then, because he is a horrible royal prat, he rushes forward to block Merlin's exit from Gaius' room.

"I'm sorry," Arthur says. "I've been rude to you and you've been a helpful, good servant. Please, forgive me."

Sometimes, very very rarely, Arthur's able to muster some strange kind of chivalrous royal bearing when lives aren't on the line. He can even do it in Merlin's body, it seems.

Merlin looks away. "I should just run off with your body," he grumbles, but he knows he's already forgiven Arthur--they always forgive each other everything, who knows why. The dragon would probably say it has something to do with destiny and sides of a coin and all that.

Arthur's beginning to grin at him, like he knows what Merlin's thinking. "I knew you'd come through for me, in the end."

"I'm your servant, that's my job," Merlin says, and Arthur's smile falters a bit. Merlin sighs and pushes past him into the hall. "You need to deliver Bedevere's clothes to him, remember?"

"Oh, right!" Merlin thinks about ditching Arthur when he goes back to Merlin's room to get the clothes, but waits in the hall instead.

He returns to Arthur's room while Arthur takes care of the clothes and starts a fire--by hand. Eventually he hears a knock on the door, and lets Arthur in.

"He's not angry at you anymore," Arthur says. "I was perfectly servile."

Merlin smiles. "Perfectly servile isn't exactly like me, either." He stretches and yawns--all of the day's stresses feel etched into his skin. "I'm exhausted--I think I'll turn in early."

"If you're thinking about ordering me to help you undress or make your bed, you can forget it. I'm sure I can still win a fight, even if I'm scrawnier now."

Merlin rolls his eyes. "Not all of us lack the ability to do any basic tasks on our own," he retorts, already unlacing his jacket.

"And this doesn't give you reason to address me like that!" Arthur says, and Merlin just flaps a hand as he strips his jacket, then shirt.

"It's not like you can threaten me with a hanging for my disobedience," he says, shrugging as he sits down to undo his boots. He smiles. "Executing me would mean killing you, right? I'm absolutely safe."

"We could hold you in the dungeon until my men found a cure," Arthur says, in the same mocking tone. He moves until he's standing in front of Merlin, looking down at him. "Or perhaps just the stocks, indefinitely."

"I could find a guard that doesn't realize I'm not you, and have him run you through for treason." Merlin smirks at him, and he wonders if his eyes normally gleam like that when he teases, the way Arthur's are gleaming right now.

Arthur's smile wavers, and he glances away. He says nothing for a few moments, and Merlin sits up with one boot still on.

"What if they can't fix this?" Arthur says, his voice quieter. "What if they can't find that sorceress, or she refuses, or."

Merlin really doesn't want to think about that. "Well, it's not as if your father will just let me be the crown prince, if that's what you're worried about," he says, trying to keep his tone light.

Arthur snorts, but his shoulders stay tense, and the fear is contagious: Merlin can't help but imagine being trapped in this magic-less, handicapped body forever. Years ago he would have welcomed that, but now.... he might actually prefer a beheading.

"I suppose that Uther could try to pass me off as a bastard son," Arthur says. "You know, try to give me the crown that way. But it seems unlikely that the kingdom and our knights would accept that."

Merlin shakes his head. "You'll be king--you have to be king. You're just letting your imagination run away with you."

Arthur gives him a smile that doesn't quite meet his eyes. "I suppose I am. You're far too much of an idiot for anyone to let near the crown, after all."

"That's royal idiot to you, now," Merlin says, pointing a warning finger at Arthur. Arthur smirks back and slaps his hand away, and then he kneels.

It takes a moment to realizes what Arthur is doing, and then Merlin's jaw drops. "What are you--?"

Arthur glances up at him as he quickly unties the laces on Merlin's other boot. "Playing the part," he says mockingly, but he holds Merlin's gaze and his fingers are surprisingly quick and gentle; his palm brushes Merlin's calve as he eases the shoe off.

"Why couldn't you have played the part with Sir Bedevere?" He wiggles his toes. "You really don't have to do this."

Arthur shakes his head. "Shut up."

He's still kneeling, and for one terrifying moment, Merlin thinks that he'll try to help Merlin take his breeches off. But then he stands and walks toward the bathing room. "I'll draw you up a bath."

"You don't have--" Merlin tries again, but Arthur throws his hand up without turning around, and soon Merlin hears the splash of water.

Merlin removes the rest of his clothes, bewildered. Arthur acts strangely, randomly all the time--Merlin has a theory that he must act out because he chafes from all the expectations of him, but perhaps he's just naturally that irritating, who knows. This is still odd for him, but it must be just his way of making sense of the mess.

Merlin finds Arthur's dressing gown, and when he gets to his bath, Arthur is standing by the wall with his hands clasped behind his back. His face is calm and unreadable.

"You're the most bizarre person I've ever met," Merlin tells him.

Arthur snorts. "Likewise. Your highness?" Sarcasm drips from his voice, and he actually bows along with an elaborate gesture at the bathtub.

Merlin shakes his head incredulously. "Get out of here, won't you? I'm certainly not going to ask you to scrub me down, you don't even ask me for that when things are normal!"

For a moment Arthur looks mutinous, but then he shrugs. "As you wish. I suppose--" he makes a face. "I'm sleeping in your quarters, then?"

"I don't sleep on hot coals or glass, I'm sure you'll be fine," Merlin says. "Go on, then."

Arthur rolls his eyes, but he leaves, and Merlin wonders whether Arthur will bring him breakfast the next morning. It's deeply bizarre, but then this whole thing is deeply bizarre.

Bizarre as he removes his robe, Bizarre as he lowers himself into the hot water. He can feel the bathwater all over, on skin and body parts that aren't his, and he remembers Arthur's earlier remark about nakedness. He can't help but look down at himself: Arthur's not very hirsute, but his chest is still hairier (and much broader) than Merlin's own, and Merlin can pick out a few scars on his skin. Arthur's legs look like they might have been sculpted from stone, and he has a light brown birthmark on his knee as well as a few freckles on his thighs and his forearms.

And his cock--well, it's there, and Merlin finds himself staring dumbly. He's seen Arthur mostly naked before, but never like this, and--

He could touch it, he realizes. No, he won't, gods he won't, except he could, and why not, really? He feels a spark of desire in his groin, and he stares in horrified fascination as his cock--Arthur's cock--twitches and starts to harden.

And now Merlin wants to wank, and he wants to wank because he's looking at Arthur naked, and he's looking at Arthur naked because he is Arthur naked, and he feels torn between tremendous lust and tremendous mortification.

Curiosity and desire win out, and he wraps one hand experimentally around the base of Arthur's cock. It feels good--well, of course it feels good. It also feels wrong and forbidden and wrong and Merlin strokes a few times, letting his head fall back. It's not that different from wanking in his own body, except for all the ways in which it is: different nerve endings, different hands, and obviously a different cock, but the feeling is much the same.

Merlin can't help but imagine Arthur doing this for himself. He can look down at his own hands now and see it--he knows exactly what it would look like...

And that is too much. Merlin takes his hand off and grabs hastily for a sponge, scrubbing himself down as fast as he can. He's still wretchedly hard, Arthur's cock still calling for attention as he gets out of the bath and towels himself off. He refuses to take care of himself as he dresses for bed, and he's still refusing as he miserably curls up under the covers and tries not to think about Arthur naked. Which would be himself naked. Merlin dearly wants his own body back.

***

"My lord, it's morning. You should wake up."

Merlin's eyes blink open. Someone is shaking his shoulder.

"Sire?"

Merlin sits up, yawning, and he hears Arthur sigh and sprawl on the bed, squashing Merlin's toes in the process. Merlin blinks some more and stares at himself--it takes a few seconds to fully remember who he is and what happened. He's staring at himself, who is Arthur, who has indeed come to wake Merlin up and call him "sire" and--

And sure enough, he can see a plate of breakfast on the table across the room.

Merlin shakes his head and looks back at Arthur. "What are you doing here?"

Arthur laughs. "Come on, you're not that thick. I've brought your breakfast."

"I can see that. I meant, why? Have you already forgotten that you're not actually a servant?" He throws back the covers, and when he crosses the room to the table he can feel Arthur's eyes on him. It's peculiar.

"We have to keep up appearances, dolt. That means I have to wake you and bring you your meals and all that." Arthur is in Merlin's bed--well, in his own bed, leaning against the headboard with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Well, it's weird." Merlin breaks the hunk of bread in two, gesturing with it at Arthur. "You want some?"

Arthur shakes his head. "I already ate."

Merlin stares. "You willingly ingested the gruel that servants get here? I'm beginning to think that you're under more than one spell."

Arthur scoffs, but Merlin can see his ears getting red. "I don't get pampered while out on the battlefield! I am capable of handling service below my station."

"Oh, so I'm just always waiting on you hand and foot because I'm special, then," Merlin says, digging into his porridge. "I see how it is."

Arthur rolls his eyes and mutters something that Merlin can't make out. Merlin laughs and eats his breakfast.

Arthur's behavior continues to be odd throughout the day. He's not servile all the time, or even most of the time--in fact, when others are present, he does tasks grudgingly or not at all, only managing not to draw attention to himself because most people they usually interact with are likely used to Merlin being a terrible servant.

But there are moments. Arthur keeps opening doors for Merlin before Merlin can do it himself, and when they go outside for a ride, Arthur prepares the kit and saddles for both their horses, and fastens Merlin's cloak around his neck despite Merlin's protests.

Merlin has no idea what to make of it, and he's not sure what reaction he'd get if he really pressed Arthur for an answer as to why. It makes him feel more uncomfortable than he already is in Arthur's body.

Having Arthur be compelled to serve him is bad enough, but most of the other servants won't even look him in the eye. When he thanks a kitchen maid for a snack, she looks surprised and almost scared, hurrying away from him as soon as she dismisses her.

"How do you deal with this?" Merlin complains to Arthur as they eat their lunch.

Arthur is distracted, looking out the window at his knights practicing under someone else's tutelage rather than his own. "Deal with what?"

"The way people treat you. All the servants, the guards.... you know, everyone."

Arthur looks at him, his brow furrowed. "What do you mean, how do I deal?"

"Everyone always trying to wait on you hand and foot, everyone wanting your attention, everyone wanting to know where you are." Merlin waves a hand, gesturing vaguely at all of the things he's having to deal with. "It's exhausting!"

Arthur blinks at him. "So you don't enjoy being the crown prince?"

"Not at all! It's fine and dandy if you like the way you're usually treated, but the sooner we switch back, the better."

"Why shouldn't I be happy with it?" Arthur demands, and Merlin regrets bringing the subject up. "I'm the prince, it's just the way it is."

"So being the prince means that I can treat everyone however I want and just get away with it?" Merlin shakes his head. "It just feels dodgy."

Arthur gives him a dirty look. "What you feel doesn't matter, because soon enough things will be set straight and I'll be the prince again."

"Right, of course, my mistake." Merlin can hear the edge in his voice, and he can always tell when he's about to quarrel with Arthur. There's never any point to trying to stop it; these things are inevitable with them. "And I'll just be a servant, so my opinions will be worthless, right?"

"Ah, it's good to hear that you've finally learned your place," Arthur says, his tone as ugly as Merlin's.

He knows Arthur doesn't mean it, but he still feels a spark of white-hot anger run down his spine. "At least my place doesn't involve being awful to everyone and getting praise for nothing," he snaps, rising out of his chair.

Arthur stands as well. "Truly it's amazing that you've stuck around for so long, if you have such a low opinion of me! Please, Merlin, feel free to take your worthless opinions out of Camelot once we have our bodies back!"

And why has he stuck around for someone as spoiled, selfish, and infuriating as Arthur? He has no answer for that question, which makes him more furious than anything Arthur's said.

Arthur is still sneering at him. "I don't understand why you're not enjoying the one opportunity you'll ever have to matter. I'm sure anyone else would be thankful--"

It's an impulse: Merlin snatches his full glass of water from the table and throws it across the room, shattering it against the wall.

Arthur stares at him with startled eyes, and Merlin stares back. "Well?" he says eventually. "There's rags and a broom in the closet--go clean it up."

Confusion changes to anger on Arthur's face, and he opens and closes his mouth. Merlin's mostly expecting Arthur to threaten to hang him, but he holds Arthur's gaze steadily, expectant.

After a few more beats, Arthur curses and shoves past Merlin to fetch the broom and rag from the closet, then stomps over to the shattered glass and spilled water. He kneels to soak up the water with the rag, and stays crouching down to sweep up all the glass shards. Merlin goes to sit on the edge of the bed to watch him, his heartbeat thumping loudly in his ears.

Arthur stands when he's finished, looking Merlin in the eye. "Remove my boots," Merlin says smoothly, and Arthur bows his head and kneels in front of him. His hands are trembling--with anger or something else, Merlin's not sure.

He's not sure why he's doing this, or why Arthur is, but he stays silent as Arthur bends over his boot. He unties the laces and tugs off the shoes, the movements more angry than they had been when he did this last night, but he does it nonetheless--without protest.

Arthur looks up at him when Merlin's feet are bare. "Well?" His voice is sarcastic and resentful, but there's a tremor of something Merlin can't identify beneath.

Merlin opens his mouth without having any idea of what he's going to say (what he's going to ask for), and he takes in a breath to speak, and there's a knock on the door.

Merlin closes his mouth, swallows, opens it again. "Answer that."

Arthur rolls his eyes and gets to his feet to answer the door, and Merlin exhales. He thinks his hands might be trembling a bit, too.

It's Morgana at the door. To his horror, Merlin hears Arthur snap "Oh, what do you want?"

"Uh, well," Morgana replies, obviously surprised at such rudeness from Merlin--which would be par for the course for her from Arthur.

Merlin hurries to the door. "Go--go polish my armor, he snaps at Arthur, stepping in front of him to smile at Morgana.

"Your armor doesn't need polishing," Arthur says, and this at least is more usual for their relationship: Merlin refusing to acquiesce to stupid orders and Arthur being peevish. Morgana looks amused now, rather than taken aback.

"Go polish it anyway, or it's the stocks for you," Merlin says, glaring, and Arthur glares right back before stomping out of the room.

Morgana watches Arthur leave. "You should be kinder to him," she says, giving Merlin a reproachful look. "He's done so much for both of us."

Merlin blinks, holding himself back from saying 'thank you.' "He's... insubordinate," he says.

"Insubordinate?" Morgana laughs. "Arthur, just last week you were telling me how nice it was to have someone who doesn't lick your boots all the time."

Really. "Well--well this week he's been annoying me," he says, feeling horribly awkward. How is he to know how Arthur and Morgana talk to each other when he's not around?

"Good," Morgana says with a smirk, folding her arms. "More people should annoy you, it gets you down from your pedestal."

Her eyes are sparkling with sly amusement, and Merlin's never really had a girl talk to him with this peculiar mixture of taunting and flirtation. "Oh, well, you would think that," he manages.

Morgana tilts her head at him, but if she thinks he's gone daft, she doesn't say it. She purses her lips and hugs her arms, and Merlin's mind is utterly blank--he has no clue what he should say. So he just stares back at her, and hopes that he isn't coming across as deranged.

Thankfully Morgana takes pity on him and initiates the conversation. "Look," she says, and she sounds more hesitant than Merlin's ever heard her. "I need a favor."

Oh, hell. "Erm. What's the favor?"

Morgana meets his eyes, and for all that they've been through, she's an incredibly beautiful noble lady and sometimes Merlin still finds her intimidating enough to make him want to melt through the floor. "You know of the raids Uther is planning on the outer villages, yes?"

No. "Uh..."

Morgana makes an impatient noise and strides over to the window, looking out. "These are all villages that have only recently become part of Camelot. They're still adjusting to this kingdom, some of them probably don't even know who Uther is!"

She looks at Arthur now, righteously indignant, and Merlin tries desperately to find anything in her statement or anything he's heard from Arthur in the past few days that would make sense of what she's talking about. He gets nothing. "And...?"

"And--and what do you think, Arthur?" Morgana's fingernails are tapping on the windowsill, and she gives Merlin an irritated sideways glance. "If Uther sends his men to search these places for magic users to execute, he'll definitely find plenty, considering that they might not even know it's illegal!"

Merlin grips the edge of the table he's leaning against. This is rather extremely not a conversation he wants to have with Morgana right now. "Oh."

He can't tell how much Morgana notices his discomfort. "Yes, 'oh.' He thinks that these raids are the best way to introduce these villages to Camelot law, and you know him--he doesn't care that it's not fair, that he'll be executing people who weren't even trying to break the law."

Fantastic. "Ah. Um. What--what do you want me to do?"

Morgana turns to him, and Merlin feels distinctly doomed. "You must talk to him," she says. "Make him see! If nothing else, explain that it's a bad political move, that these people surely won't trust us if the first thing we do as rulers is murder their kin."

Merlin tries to picture himself convincing Uther of anything. "Ah," he says desperately. "I don't--I don't think that would be a good idea. Me talking to him, I mean."

Morgana looks nonplussed, and then she glares and advances on him. "What, are you afraid? You know he'll listen to you more than he'll listen to me!"

Merlin feels ill. The villages Morgana's talking about aren't that far from Ealdor; they were recently acquired in the peace agreements with the northern kings. Some of them have been under the rule of a king in name only for centuries, and they've likely relied more on local sorcerers for protection than on the power of whatever king they might be under. Uther will find plenty of magic users to make examples of.

All of which doesn't change the fact that Merlin can't persuade the king otherwise in Arthur's body, and it's highly unlikely that Arthur can in Merlin's.

"I doubt that," he says to Morgana. "It sounds like he's already made up his mind."

"Of course he's already made up his mind, you know your father!" Merlin cringes, and Morgana's definitely looking at him like he's stupid now. "But if you explain what he has to lose, how we might even have a rebellion on our hands--Arthur, you're the only one who might be able to get through to him."

Merlin looks away. "Maybe in a couple days, right now I'm just--"

"What, too busy with weapons training?" she says acidly, and before Merlin can retreat further she's crossed the room.

And oh gods, she puts her hand on his chest. "Look at me, Arthur," and Merlin does, trying not to panic. Her eyes are like steel. "I'm not asking you to fight against him or do anything drastic. I'm just asking you to have a damned conversation."

"I, I can't," Merlin stammers, and does Morgana always look at Arthur like this? "I'm sorry, you know I--it's just--"

"You would give me excuses?" Merlin's never been the subject of Morgana's wrath before, and he prays he never will be again. Her hand tightens in his shirt before she pushes herself away, pacing the room. "People might die, Arthur! People who are now in your kingdom, don't tell me you don't care about that!"

"I do care," Merlin says miserably. "I just can't talk to him, not right now."

Morgana stops and gives him a sharp look. "This isn't like you."

Damn. "I have to go."

He dashes for the door, but Morgana is fast, and she catches his sleeve, forcing Merlin to face her. "What, you're running away from me? What's with you? You can't even meet my eyes and you're afraid to talk to your own father--that's not the Arthur I know."

Perhaps it would be better to just give the game up--Morgana's a damned seer anyway, she might see that it's Merlin in Arthur's body when she goes to sleep tonight. And who knows, maybe she could help them reverse the spell somehow. Merlin swallows. "I--"

The door opens and Arthur stalks back into the room. "Did you know that Gwen fancies you? --oh," he says, noticing Morgana.

"Merlin, get out." Merlin tries for Arthur's I'm-warning-you-servant-I'm-in-a-foul-temper tone of voice, but Arthur ignores him, looking back and forth between Merlin and Morgana.

"What?" It's Morgana's turn to look mystified now, but to Merlin's frustration she recovers entirely too quickly. "Merlin, tell your cowardly stupid master to be a man and take care of his people."

"Excuse me? I--He is not cowardly!" Arthur's full of his usual bluster, but it looks beyond weird in Merlin's body, and Morgana stares.

"He's going to let masses of villagers die because he's too scared to confront his father," she says. "What do you call that, if not cowardice?"

"I'm not scared," Merlin says, beginning to get angry, and Arthur frowns.

"Wait, what's this about?"

Morgana opens her mouth, but for once Merlin beats her to speaking. "She wants me to try and talk the king into suspending his raids for magic users on our new outer villages, but as you know, I can't intervene right now."

Merlin catches Arthur's eyes, and Arthur looks stupidly confused until he gets it, his eyes widening. "Oh," he says. "Oh, that's--that's right, you can't, you have..."

Merlin groans as Arthur's imagination seems to run out and he trails off. Morgana looks incensed.

"So you have both lost your manhood," she says. "This is ridiculous, what on earth--"

"You don't understand," Arthur says harshly, apparently having no idea that Merlin would never interrupt a noble (well, excepting the prince). "We just can't."

Morgana's mouth stays open as she stares, and then she shuts it and narrows her eyes, looking back and forth between them. "All right. What's going on?"

Merlin swallows. "I don't know what you mean."

Morgana looks ready to murder him. "You--"

"Oh, to hell with it," Arthur says, cross. "Look, Morgana, both of us are under a spell. I'm Arthur, and he's Merlin." Arthur jabs a finger at his own chest, then at Merlin, and Merlin sags against the wall.

"Good job on keeping our secret," he says. "Seriously, well done."

"Bugger off," snaps Arthur, obviously cranky. "I'm not about to pretend to be a servant to her."

Morgana looks utterly bewildered. "You're--what?"

"I'm sorry," Merlin tells her. "It's true. We got switched--he's Arthur, not me."

"Oh," she says, taken aback. "That's--oh."

"So that's why I can't go to the king about those villages right now, don't you see?" Merlin says. "I want to stop him, believe me I do, but there's just no way."

Morgana nods, and Merlin hopes she doesn't think too badly of his courage. "Yes, that does present a problem. Well, what about you?" she says to Arthur, and Merlin's deeply grateful to no longer be the object of her attention.

"What about me? It's not like I can do anything when I'm stuck as this weakling," Arthur says.

"Hey," Merlin protests, and Morgana actually seems to growl.

"There has got to be something we can do," she says. "We can't just accept this!"

"The king does know that we're switched," Merlin says, looking at Arthur. "So you could talk to him..."

"Doubtful," Arthur says. "For one, he's distracted and grouchy because of what happened to us. For another, do you really think he'd take me seriously while I'm in your body?"

That stings, but it's a valid point: Uther does seem quite convinced that Merlin's a simpleton.

"You have to try," Morgana insists. "Do you want to see scores of people executed? Do you want to see a rebellion in the north?"

"You don't have to convince me that Uther's plan would be bad," Arthur says, his voice strangely quiet. "I certainly don't want him to kill anyone in the new territories."

"What, you don't think it's dangerous for them to be using magic?" Merlin says, surprise getting the better of him.

"I don't wish death on them for using magic," Arthur says, and when he looks at Merlin there's something like hurt in his eyes. Merlin frowns back.

"Can you please just talk to him? See how open he is to changing his mind because I don't know, he's refused to discuss it with me at all." Morgana takes a step toward Arthur. From the exhausted look he gives her, Merlin guesses that Arthur's figured out what Merlin has: Morgana's not going to accept no for an answer.

"I'll try, but you shouldn't expect much," Arthur says. Morgana grins at him, and Arthur gives her a tight smile back.

"Thank you," she says, and upon glancing at Merlin, adds "both of you." She laughs. "This--this switching is hard for me to get used to."

"Don't get used to it," Arthur says darkly, and Merlin grins.

Uther doesn't give them an audience until the next morning; they have to wait outside the court room until he's finished meeting with some visiting barons.

"If you don't stop pacing and fidgeting, I'm going to stab you."

Merlin stops pacing and glances at Arthur. "You wouldn't. I'm in your body."

"I'll heal."

Merlin sighs and goes to stand next to Arthur against the door. "You're going to do all the talking, right?"

Arthur purses his lips. "Yes, for all the good it'll do."

Arthur's quieter than usual, the way he sometimes is before he has to deal with his father. Right now he's staring at the wall, so typically Arthur that he almost manages to look like himself.

Merlin, for his part, feels antsy enough for the both of them. "What do we know about the towns he's going to raid, aside from that they're new additions to Camelot?"

Arthur narrows his eyes. "Merlin, can't you just--"

The doors to the courtroom open, thankfully, and they both watch as the barons leave, all jovial smiles and satisfied looks. More successful diplomacy, then--hopefully it's put Uther in a good mood.

"Good morning," Uther says as they enter the room. All attendants in the court room leave, and if any of them wonder why Arthur's manservant gets to listen in on an audience between the king and the prince, they don't show it.

"Have you made any progress with Gaius on finding a scientific antidote for your afflictions?" Uther says as soon as they're alone.

"Not yet, but we're diligently working on it." Not for the first time, Merlin marvels at Arthur's ability to just lie to the king like that. "If there's a non-magical way to reverse this, we'll find it."

Uther nods, glancing at Merlin for the first time. Merlin swallows and looks back, hoping he looks sufficiently royal--or at least, sufficiently not-someone-Uther-needs-to-yell-at.

"So then what can I do for you?" Uther says, smiling and steepling his fingers.

Arthur clears his throat and stands a little taller. "I want to talk to you about your planned campaign to rid the new northern villages we've required of magic."

Uther's smile freezes on his face. "You're stuck outside of your own body, and therefore won't be able to help the campaign. What input could you have?"

Merlin's nerves jump, but Arthur just looks slightly annoyed. "I realize I won't be leading the men, but I still have an understanding of the situation. Hear me out."

Uther stands and walks over to the window, his hands clasped behind his back, and Arthur joins him. The sight of himself just being next to Uther so openly makes Merlin deeply uncomfortable.

"My mind's made up," Uther says, as if he already knows what Arthur wants to argue. "But go on, then, you have an opinion?"

"Yes. I don't think we should do it." If Arthur feels hesitant or nervous, you can't hear it in his voice; Merlin doesn't think he's ever sounded like that in his own body, except for maybe when he does magic.

Uther sighs. "And why don't you think we should carry out the raids?"

"Because it would be a horrible political move. We have only recently welcomed these villages into our kingdom--they don't know us and they don't know you. It's a region already known for upheaval, and killing off all their wizards and witches immediately like this will give us a certain rebellion on our hands." Arthur's voice is quiet and forceful and the king seems to be listening--Merlin realizes that he's holding his breath.

"And what would you have us do instead?" Uther asks, still looking out at the courtyard.

"Spread the word that magic is illegal here," Arthur says, stepping forward eagerly. "Station our soldiers in each town so that the people see they don't need magic to defend themselves! After a given amount of time when we can be sure that the law is known and the people feel more loyalty to you, then we can arrest those caught doing magic."

Uther makes a contemptuous sound and turns back to his son. "And this is truly how you would lead if you were king right now?"

"With compassion and wisdom rather than blind, brute force? Yes, I would hope so," Arthur says, his voice rising.

"You mistake weakness for wisdom," Uther says coldly, and Merlin knows that the argument is lost. "If I followed your naive plans, our control of the outer regions would crumble and magic would find its way back into the heart of our kingdom."

Arthur's hands curl into fists at his sides. "You can't know that," he says. "There's no way that so much violence will produce a more stable solution than a rational approach!"

"I will not tolerate magic in a few villages while it's forbidden in the rest of the kingdom. This audience is over," Uther says, turning his back on Arthur and walking back to the throne.

"Those people will die for something they don't even know is wrong!" Arthur's shout makes Merlin suck in a breath, and Uther stops. "You know that you'll find plenty of lawbreakers, you'll decimate the villages, and what will be the point of the bloodshed?"

"You don't know what you're speaking of--"

"You're blinded by your hatred of magic," Arthur says, and Merlin feels his throat go dry. "You know what this kind of upheaval could do to the kingdom, yet you ignore it just to--to feed your own fears!"

Merlin has never heard Arthur talk to his father like this, or talk about magic like this, before. He can't quite believe what he's hearing, and feels like he should stay perfectly still, lest any slightest movement disturb what ever is that Arthur's doing.

The lines of Uther's face go rigid, and he meets Merlin's eyes again. Merlin realizes suddenly that he is not supposed to be here--not supposed to witness this. Uther's jaw works, and he turns away from Merlin and back to his son.

"Didn't I tell you that this audience is over?" His voice is calm, almost bored, and Arthur looks like he's been slapped. Uther turns away from him again, striding back to the throne.

"Out of my sight," Uther calls over his shoulder, and Merlin knows this also applies to him. He moves towards Arthur, to comfort him or calm him or carry him bodily from the room--he's not sure. It's then that he notices the chair next to Arthur levitating off the ground. Arthur's eyes, he realizes, are gold.

Merlin stops, frozen in horror. Arthur's staring after his father and hasn't realized yet what he's doing, and Uther hasn't seen yet either. But any moment--

"You can't just do this," Arthur says through gritted teeth, and Uther starts to look over his shoulder, he'll surely see--

"Sire!" Merlin's shout makes Uther turn back in his direction, and the chair clatters to the ground. Arthur's eyes are wide with shock, but he immediately puts his hand on the top of the chair, as if he had just shaken it for emphasis.

And now Uther's staring at him, and Merlin has no idea at all what he should say. "Sire--surely you can at least, um, postpone the raids?" Oh, gods, he's going to be thrown in the dungeons for a month and Uther's going to be angry enough to kill twice as many villagers now, but at least he's looking away from Arthur's still-yellow eyes. "Until we get the curse on Arthur sorted out, um--"

"I don't know what gave you the impression that I desired your suggestions, but I assure you I don't," Uther says, and Merlin's mouth snaps closed. Arthur doesn't seem to have noticed Merlin's bid for him: he's staring at the chair with his lips in a thin line, clutching it hard enough that his knuckles are white.

But he hasn't said anything, hasn't exposed Merlin to Uther. He obviously knows what just happened, there's no way that he isn't drawing the rightful conclusion that Merlin is a wizard. Every second passing now is a second that he's keeping Merlin's secret.

"Both of you are dismissed," Uther says, looking as if he'll bring in guards to make them leave if they don't do so of their own volition.

For a moment Merlin wonders if he'll have to drag Arthur away, but Arthur turns and heads for the doors, his movements jerky and stilted. Merlin follows, and when they're both out of earshot Arthur turns his head enough to call out, "Gaius' chambers. Now."

"Of course," Merlin mutters. It feels strange that he should be walking upright, that the world should continue as it always has--Arthur knows now, and that changes everything, and he thought he'd feel the effects immediately.

Arthur knows and Arthur just spoke up against the executions of magic users to his father; Arthur knows and he hasn't said anything yet. Merlin feels dizzy with apprehension of the conversation he knows he's about to have.

Arthur doesn't say a word as they walk through the halls, and Merlin stares at the back of Arthur's head and stays silent as well.

When they reach Gaius' room, Merlin shuts the door behind him, and Arthur turns slowly to face him. "You can do magic," he says.

Breathe, Merlin. One way or another, it will be over soon enough. "Yes. I'm a sorcerer."

"Are you a powerful one?" Arthur's voice still sounds calm, misleadingly so.

Merlin bites his lip. "Oh, I don't know about that."

"Don't try to keep lying!" Arthur's voice rises and cuts off, and Merlin sees a bowl levitate from Gaius' table. Arthur gasps, and the bowl falls.

Merlin clenches his hands into fists at his sides. "You need to keep calm--"

"That--that!" Arthur's voice is shaky as he gestures at the bowl. "I can feel how much magic is inside you now, how hard it is to hold back, and I'm certain that it's not that way for every sorcerer!"

The game's up completely, then. "Yes, yes I'm powerful," Merlin says, crossing the room to Arthur. "Gaius says he's never heard of it coming so naturally to someone, never heard of anyone with my abilities. Is that what you want to hear, is it a sufficient reason for Uther to kill me?"

Arthur makes a choked noise and turns away, leans both hands on the table. "You've been lying to me," he says, and it's nothing but the truth, but the words still make something tear inside Merlin. "For all I know you've had me under a thousand different spells."

"I wouldn't--"

A book goes flying across the room, and Arthur's furious eyes blaze gold. "How stupid I've been, to believe you were a friend when you've been lying to me this whole time," he snarls, and the instruments on Gaius' table clatter. "Have you been laughing at me behind my back, wondering how I could be so easily fooled?"

"No, Arthur please, you have to calm down!" Merlin stares as a vial of something purple rises from Gaius' table.

If Arthur cares about the magic his body is throwing around, he doesn't show it. "You've betrayed me," he says, anger fading to something else on his face. "Why?"

Merlin drags his gaze away from a tablecloth whistling through the air and meets Arthur's eyes. He can feel his own anger building in his chest, anger at Arthur and anger at himself, a sick bitterness that whispers that his companionship with Arthur is over. What does it matter now?

"How many executions of magic-users have you stood by and witnessed, sire?" He thinks of Arthur's protests against the killings, of Arthur standing up against his father only minutes ago. He keeps speaking anyway, tasting bile. "How many have you delivered to your father?"

Arthur blanches, and he takes a step back. The floating vial drops and crashes on the table, liquid going everywhere.

"You know I don't--I've never had a choice in the matter," he says. "And if it were you, I swear, I wouldn't--" He laughs, a brittle sound that makes the bitterness in Merlin's chest twist further. "How many times have you saved my life? You really thought that I'd just throw you to the wolves?"

"So that means you're not going to do so now?" Merlin snaps without thinking about it. Arthur's fists clench and Merlin breaks eye contact, looking away. So Arthur trusted him more than he thought, and now he's squandered that trust. Of course he has, because isn't that just the way his damned life works?

Arthur's breathing is loud in the room, and objects are still levitating. Merlin forces himself to speak again. "If I was wrong, then please forgive me for assuming that loyalty to your father would outweigh any loyalty to a servant." He hates the way his own voice--Arthur's voice--sounds spiteful and harsh, the way he can't seem to stop himself from voicing every uncharitable thought his secret has bred in him. He swallows.

"If--" Arthur's voice stutters and breaks off, more unsure than Merlin's ever heard him, and he makes himself look Arthur's way again. "If you were under the impression that anything could surpass my loyalty to you, then." He stops again, many emotions warring on his face. "Then I have not been forthright, then I--then you were wrong."

Arthur looks down at the floor, and the words hang heavy between them. Merlin doesn't know how to react, at all--he never knows how much of an admission Arthur is giving at any time, Arthur never lets him know. Arthur is standing there in Meriln's body, avoiding eye contact and looking like he's about to throw up, and Merlin's not sure if Arthur's ever been more honest with him.

They both hear footsteps outside at the same time, turning their heads, and then Gaius is opening the door. "Merlin, the--"

Merlin realizes immediately that several objects are still hanging in midair, and then they very abruptly aren't. There are a few crashes, and Gaius is staring at them both, and Arthur makes a soft sound that's almost a laugh.

Gaius shuts the door behind him quickly and leans against it, his face ashen. "You're still Arthur in there?" he says to Arthur.

"Yes," Arthur says defiantly, and Merlin says "Gaius, he knows."

Gaius looks as ill as he feels. "He was using magic in your body?"

"Not on purpose," Arthur says hotly, resuming his normal demeanor. "It's beyond my control!"

"Has anyone else witnessed it?" Gaius says. Color is returning to his face and he's looking back and forth between them, like he doesn't know who to blame.

"No," Merlin says, and he wants Gaius to be gone from the room, he wants to grab Arthur by the shoulders and shake him until forgiveness falls out. "And he--"

"Sire, you have to understand," Gaius says to Arthur, and oh gods, he actually kneels before the prince. "Merlin has used his powers chiefly for your protection, and he is still just a boy, I beg you not to act hastily!"

Arthur's face goes blank and cold like stone as he steps hurriedly back, and Merlin remembers how horrified he'd seemed when Merlin assumed the same thing that Gaius just has.

"I don't give a damn what he's done," Arthur says, each word clipped and sharp as his sword's edge.

"Arthur--" Merlin tries, but Arthur sidesteps Gaius and walks, nearly runs, out of the room.

Merlin feels frozen where he stands, but Gaius is scrambling to his feet. "Go after him," he says, grabbing Merlin by the shoulders. "You must go after him, you must attempt to make him see reason!"

"He--" Merlin's tongue feels thick, and he steps out of Gaius' hold. "He won't tell. You--you scared him off, he was going to--" Merlin can feel all the frustration and anger and confusion of the last several days coming to the surface, and he glares at Gaius. "How could you say those things to him, if you hadn't walked in--!"

"If I--" Gaius blinks, confused, but then shakes his head. "He clearly didn't hear a word I said, and I doubt very much that he's thinking rationally at the moment. Merlin, you have to stick by his side now, if only to ensure that he doesn't lose his temper and do magic in front of the whole court!"

"I don't have to do a damn thing!" Merlin shouts, and he's now acting and thinking as irrationally as Arthur, but he doesn't care. "I just--leave us both alone!"

He storms out of the room, ignoring Gaius' calls, and he has no idea where he's going--he's not following Arthur, he doesn't think he could bear to be in Arthur's presence at the moment. He wishes he could use his magic, could shield himself from the world or use it to speed a horse away from Camelot or anything, anything.

He turns around corners, heading blindly through the halls. He misses his magic desperately--often when he's feeling this miserable he can just go somewhere private and practice spells until he feels worn out and empty and calm. But no, right now he's in someone else's body, and Arthur knows about his magic, and Uther's planning on slaughtering more people like him, and everything is awful.

***

Eventually he decides to head back to Arthur's chambers, thinking vaguely of hiding under the covers until the day is over or just until he has his own body back. But when he gets to Arthur's rooms, Arthur is already there, sitting on the floor with his back to the bed and his face toward the window. He doesn't turn around when Merlin enters.

Merlin thinks about turning around and walking right back out. He purses his lips and closes the door behind him instead.

"What are you doing here?" Arthur says from the floor, still looking at the wall and the window.

Merlin crosses his arms and glares at the back of Arthur's head. "This is my room."

"It really isn't."

Merlin walks around the bed and sits down next to Arthur on the floor. Arthur's shoulders tense, but he still doesn't look at Merlin. "Look, we need to reverse this stupid spell. Regardless of how mad you are right now, we definitely need to reverse this spell."

"We need to?" Arthur turns to him finally. "If I knew of any way that we could fix this, I assure you that I wouldn't still be in your pathetic body."

Merlin ignores the slight. "I'm talking about using my magic, you using my magic. We can find the right spell and I can teach you how to use my power to change us back."

Arthur stares at him, then gets to his feet. "I am not using magic in my father's court," he spits, and moves to step over Merlin to leave the room.

"Arthur, dammit—" Merlin grabs his ankle and Arthur falls, twists and gives Merlin a well-aimed blow to the face with his other foot. Merlin yelps and Arthur snarls, and Merlin does better in the scuffle than he ever has before (without using magic, at any rate). Arthur's body is big, strong and fast, and Arthur's not used to being in a different body for a wrestling match. Merlin manages to pin him to the ground for a second or two, his hands on Arthur's shoulders, but when Arthur's eyes meet his he feels his palms blaze like he's trying to hold onto fire.

"Ah!" Merlin scrambles off of him, blowing on his stinging fingers. Arthur scrambles back as well, his eyes glowing.

"Are you--what did I do?" Arthur's looking down at his one hands like they're traitors.

"It's fine," Merlin says quickly, flexing his fingers. "You made your skin all hot so that it hurt to touch, but it didn't burn me. See?" He holds up his palms, giving Arthur a smile.

Arthur shakes his head wildly. "I, I didn't mean to, I swear, it just happened--I don't even know how--"

"I know, it's all right," Merlin says. "When I first got my magic, I couldn't control it at all. But I can help you. I can teach you how to use it well enough to change us
back." Arthur still looks terrified, and Merlin feels similarly: He's never been on the receiving end of magic without having his own power available.

"I don't want your help," Arthur snaps. "And even if I did, I doubt that you have the skill or power to fix this."

"I don't know about that: the girl who did it in the first place didn't seem to know what she was doing at all."

Arthur looks away from Merlin, out at the far wall. "Exactly--she didn't know what she was doing and did this, so who the hell knows what awful thing I'll manage to do to us?"

"Gaius and I won't let you," Merlin says, and perhaps he sounds over-confident, but he can't believe that his magic would let him down, not even when wielded by someone else.

Arthur snorts. "Of course Gaius was in on your lies. I should've known."

Merlin blinks, not expecting the turn back to the sorest subject. "He only helped me hide my magic to save my life," he says, and he can hear the edge to his voice. "That was the only reason I lied, because my life and maybe his life, too, were at stake. If that still makes my crime unforgivable, then...."

Then what? He doesn't know how to finish that sentence, because he's not sure how to live in a world where Arthur hates him. Incidents have happened before to make Arthur angry with him, certainly, but Arthur's distrust has rarely lasted for more than a single night before.

Arthur studies him, eyes blank, and it's still bizarre: talking to himself, looking at himself, directing anger and longing and hurt and all the other emotions Arthur brings out in him at his own body.

"You have power I don't understand," Arthur says. "You could probably have me under a spell, quite easily--you could have the whole kingdom under any kind of spell, for all I know. I have no guarantee that you haven't used magic against me before, because I have no idea of everything you could even use it for."

The words are clipped and practical, and Arthur sounds as if he really does regard Merlin as a threat to the kingdom. Merlin feels ill. "I suppose you don't have a guarantee. But Arthur--before, you told me that you were loyal to me above all else."

Arthur grimaces at that, and he looks like he wants to deny the statement now, but Merlin presses on.

"My lord, is it so hard to believe that my own fealty is just as nonnegotiable?"

Arthur narrows his eyes. "It is rather difficult to believe, actually, considering that you've been lying to me since the day we met."

Merlin throws up his hands. "I have laid down my life for you! I've practically offered to die for you every damned day, and I'd gladly do it again, I don't know what more proof I can give you!"

Arthur seems to falter at that, opening and closing his mouth before looking away. Merlin feels his exasperation turning to desperation, and he groans and gets up.

"I'm not an evil sorcerer," he says, crouching down again in front of Arthur, and his hands don't burn when he grips Arthur's shoulders. "You know me, and right now you must know my heart--it's beating in your own chest. You don't believe me capable of doing any harm to you or your kingdom."

Arthur looks at him, and after a second Merlin feels self-conscious and lets his hands fall from Arthur's shoulders. Arthur breathes out through his nose, his nostrils flaring.

"No, I suppose I don't," he says. "You really think we can reverse the spell on our own?"

"I'm sure we can," Merlin lies. "And we stand a better chance of figuring it out on our own rather than just waiting around to see if your knights can find that sorceress. How do we even know if she's still alive?"

Arthur makes a face. "I don't even want to wait another day."

"Neither do I." Merlin drops out of his crouch and sprawls on the floor next to Arthur. "If we start practicing now, maybe we'll be ready to do the spell by late tonight."

Arthur sighs and taps his finger against his knee, still looking dubious. "What will we tell Uther?"

"We'll just tell him that the spell wore off. I have the feeling that the king will be so relieved that his son's no longer under an enchantment that he won't ask too many questions."

"We should not count on that," Arthur says sourly, but Merlin can tell that he's given in. Merlin grins and thumps his fist on the floor, and just grins wider when Arthur gives him a sharp look.

"I appreciate you not hating me," Merlin says cheerfully, laughing when Arthur rolls his eyes.

"I might change my mind about that," Arthur shoots back, and Arthur knows, he knows and he's not going to cut off Merlin's head and Merlin doesn't need to hide anymore. The realization comes in a flood of relief and affection for Arthur, and on an impulse Merlin pulls Arthur into a hug.

Arthur makes a surprised noise but Merlin feels his arms around him, carefully hugging back. He's not sure they've ever done this before--the crown prince likely doesn't simply embrace people very often. Merlin pulls back enough to get a look at Arthur's face, and they're so close and it's Arthur and Merlin finds himself leaning forward for a kiss.

Arthur's eyes meet his, and of course that means staring into his own eyes, and it's strange enough that Merlin stops with his lips just shy of touching Arthur's. He doesn't actually want to kiss his own face, that would be strange--stranger, at any rate, since kissing Arthur to begin with is pretty strange.

Their faces are frozen inches apart from each other, and yes it would be strange, and Merlin hastily lets go of Arthur and moves away as Arthur does the same. They're looking at the floor, not at each other, and Merlin can feel his heart trying to make a mad dash for escape through his throat.

That was definitely--he definitely just almost kissed the crown prince, right there. He knows that if Arthur weren't in Merlin's body, it wouldn't be 'almost.' Merlin knows that he can be impulsive and rash, but this is on another level entirely.

Arthur clears his throat. "So--so you said Gaius could help us? With the spell, I mean."

Merlin hastily gets to his feet, up and away from Arthur. "Yes! Yes, I'm sure, he probably has the spell in a book somewhere, we should find him as soon as possible."

"Right then." Arthur stands as well, a determined look on his face. "Let's just get on with it."

Arthur looks like he's going to ignore what just almost happened, a school of thought which Merlin fervently agrees with. "Yes, the sooner the better," he says, and Arthur shoves past him to leave the room. But it's a friendly shove, and maybe--maybe Arthur just didn't notice their mouths being so close? Merlin would like to think that.

Merlin follows Arthur down the halls back to Gaius' chambers, his thoughts going every which way. What had come over him? Did he really want to kiss Arthur? Would he want to kiss Arthur now, if they were in their own bodies? Would Arthur want to kiss him?

It's too much to deal with right now, and Merlin does his best to clear all those thoughts from his head as they explain their plan to Gaius. It takes some convincing to get Gaius to believe that Arthur won't turn around and have everyone remotely connected with Merlin locked up and then executed, and then further convincing and a few threats and a dash of pleading to get him to agree to help them with the switching spell.

"If your father finds out about this," Gaius mutters fretfully, already paging through his books.

"I'm well aware of the consequences if he does," Arthur says. "So I suggest he doesn't find out."

"I second that suggestion," Merlin says, and Arthur smirks at him. When their eyes meet Merlin feels something beneath his breastbone do an awkward kind of skip, and they both look away quickly.

Maybe it's Arthur's magic, bleeding out and reacting beyond Arthur's control and making Merlin feel this way. Or maybe Merlin is so stupid that beheading him would actually be a mercy.

"This is not going to be easy, I'm afraid," Gaius says, and Merlin resents the fact that he's saying that before he's even located the right spell. "There's a formidable amount of magic in your body now--I hope you realize that you can't harness it if you treat this like it's a game."

Merlin has never heard Gaius address Arthur so frankly, and sure enough, Arthur bristles. "I've led men into battle. I can tell sport from serious actions," he says, his voice haughty enough that for a second, it almost sounds like it's coming from Arthur's own throat rather than Merlin's.

Gaius stares him down, finally nodding and returning to the book when Arthur looks down at the floor. "Very well, then," he says. "As long as you fully comprehend what it is that you're undertaking." He glances at Merlin now, and Merlin scowls back.

It's not as if the threat of death because of magic is new to him. He can't exactly be bothered to quake in his boots over one more example of the constant threat, especially now that the matter of Arthur finding out is settled.

Gaius is already turning to a thick musty book that's open on the table. "You two should go work on controlling all that magic," he says. "I'll be able to do my research and find the right spell faster if you're not underfoot."

So they head back to Arthur's chambers, and Merlin feels like he's spent the whole day in Arthur's room. He's plenty restless, and he's sure that Arthur is as well--the sooner they get this over and done with, the better.

"So," Merlin says as soon as the door's closed behind them. "Let's get you controlling that magic."

Arthur shrugs. "Sure. It can't be that difficult, if you can do it."

Merlin rolls his eyes back. "Fine, then. Sit on the bed."

"What, why?" Arthur says.

"That wasn't a request," Merlin says, and he was trying for a more jovial tone, but he's using Arthur's voice: it comes out imperious, almost threatening.

And Arthur reacts instantly, straightening, glaring and then crossing the room to sit on the bed in a huff. His nostrils are flared, and under his annoyance there's--there's that hint, again, of something else, the same thing Merlin saw when he was giving Arthur orders before.

"Well, then?" Arthur says snottily.

Merlin shakes his head. He can analyze Arthur's bizarre behavior later. He takes off a glove, holds it up. "Look at this. Stare at it, focus your attention and want it--really focus on wanting to hold it in your own hands, not mine."

Arthur looks deeply skeptical, but he looks at the glove and purses his lips. His eyes shine gold, and the glove flies out of Merlin's grip and hits the ceiling.

Arthur swears and thumps his mattress, and Merlin sighs. "You weren't going to get it on the first try, anyway," he says. "And you're going to exhaust yourself too soon if you throw a tantrum every time you get it wrong."

"Which of us has logged more hours in combat training? I know how to practice a skill," Arthur snaps, and before Merlin can retort, Arthur has gotten up to retrieve the glove from the ground.

He offers it to Merlin, and Merlin can't help but stare. "You--You don't have to do that," he tries, and Arthur's ears turn red and he hastily goes back to sitting on the bed. It's funny: Merlin wonders if he blushes so much when he's in his own body and just never notices, or if that's just Arthur's reaction to being in Merlin's body.

"Well, go on then," Arthur says, still looking slightly awkward. "Hold it out, let me try again."

"All right," Merlin says, shoving this weirdness to the back of his mind with all the other Arthur-related weirdness. "Look, the magic comes from your desire--if you don't decide to really want this, it's not going to come to you."

"Why can't I just tell it to come to me?" Arthur grouses, but he settles on the bed and fixes his stare on the glove again.

Merlin feels himself get yanked violently forward, and then his shins bang hard against the wooden front of the bed and he falls unceremoniously to the floor. "Ow!"

Arthur gapes down at him. "I didn't do that!"

"Yes you bloody did! I'm going to have bruises now!" Merlin rubs at his knee, scowling up.

"But I didn't mean to! I was focusing on the stupid glove."

"If you're distracted by something else, it affects your magic," Merlin snaps, getting to his feet. "You have to wipe all other desires from your mind if you want just one thing to do what you want it to."

Arthur crosses his legs under him and huffs out a breath. "I don't see how you ever manage to do anything in that case. You're one of the most scatterbrained people I know."

Merlin shrugs. "Maybe, but this kind of focus is automatic for me by now. It should be close to automatic to you, if we have a hope of pulling this off."

Arthur mutters something, but he shakes his shoulders and sits up straight, staring at the glove again. The glove floats out of Merlin's hand, hovers in the air a few feet in front of Arthur, then drops to the floor.

"Son of a whore!" Arthur shouts.

"Be quiet," Merlin hisses, and Arthur's mouth snaps shut. "Maybe people are used to shouting and loud thumps coming from your room, but if they're not we don't want to raise any kind of suspicions."

Arthur looks like he wants to curse some more, but he ducks his head. "Right." He looks at the glove on the floor, brow furrowing, and it jumps into the air again. It hovers again, but then flies neatly into Arthur's lap.

"A-ha!" Merlin says, and Arthur's replying grin is fierce and triumphant. "You see? You probably already know how to master this kind of focus--every time you hit me with sticks you talk about the same kind of thing, don't you?"

Arthur tilts his head. "I suppose. You're saying that learning how to be a sorcerer is just like learning to use a sword?"

There's an edge to the way he says 'learning how to be a sorcerer,' but there's little point in addressing that now. "If it helps you to think of it that way, then certainly."

"Hm." Arthur's staring at the floor now, and Merlin can't tell anything he might be thinking.

"Now see if you can make it float from you to the window," Merlin says. The sun is setting, and then it's set completely, and then it's completely dark and they're still practicing. At some point Merlin ends up on the bed as well, sitting opposite Arthur and leaning against the bedpost as he drills Arthur. He can't help but be impressed by Arthur's concentration, although he supposes he should have expected it. Arthur isn't one of the greatest warriors in Albion for nothing; Merlin's seen how hard he's worked and how much care he puts into anything he practices.

Merlin watches as Arthur's head droops with exhaustion and he still keeps his eyes trained on the glove or shirt or piece of armor that he's trying to move. Merlin waits for him to complain, but any grumbling ceases after the first hour is through. For all that the prince infuriates him sometimes (often), Merlin thinks that he rarely gives Arthur enough credit.

They don't stop practicing until dawn is closer than moonrise, and when Arthur rises from the bed and stumbles, a pillow flies up behind him to nail the back of his head.

"Gah!" Arthur glares at the bed like it's at fault, and Merlin doesn't bother disguising his laughter.

"Tomorrow we'll have to work on how not to bewitch the things you idly want," he says. "And maybe also how to control yourself when your energy is so low."

Arthur turns his glare on Merlin. "I'd probably be better off learning control from Gaius, rather than my fool of a manservant," he says, a yawn taking most of the sting out of his voice.

Merlin scoffs. "Gaius can't do any of the things my magic can," he says. "All he has to control are the words coming out of his mouth! I had to learn how to harness my power years before I even met him."

The sleepy look on Arthur's face slides right off. "You don't say."

Merlin shrugs. "All that stuff I can do, just by thinking it, Gaius doesn't even really have a clue how it works."

"You're more powerful than Gaius. How much more powerful?"

Arthur's gaze is scrutinizing, and Merlin can feel now that the atmosphere of the room has changed. "Oh, well. I... I don't know that I would say I'm more powerful, really, not at all."

"You just said you can do things that he can't." Arthur doesn't seem to be sleepy at all now, and Merlin doesn't know how the hell he manages to do his intimidating prince thing when he's not in his own body.

Merlin lets out a breath. "I can, yes, but." Arthur is just looking at him, his features calm, waiting for Merlin to dig himself out. "But I don't know many actual spells, see? I usually just get by on moving things with my mind and, you know, whatever comes to me instinctively."

Arthur bows his head. "I see."

There are many things Merlin wants to say, not least of which is that he's fairly certain it's his destiny to use whatever power he might have to help Arthur become the greatest king ever. But that's... some secrets should still be kept, probably.

"I was born with these abilities," Merlin says. "I can't help that, and yes, I suppose they make me powerful. But that still doesn't mean I've been plotting to become the next great dark sorcerer."

When Arthur looks up, he's smiling--a tight, tired smile, but a smile nonetheless. "I know. It's just--it's dangerous to have power that could threaten the king."

Merlin purses his lips. "I just said I wouldn't--"

"Dangerous for you, I mean." Arthur's staring at him so hard that Merlin feels like holes might be boring into his forehead. He swallows.

"I realize that," he says. "I swear, Arthur, I do."

"Good." Arthur turns away and yawns again, and the atmosphere in the room shifts back to normal. Merlin exhales shakily.

"I suppose I'll see you in the morning, then." Merlin takes off his other glove and starts removing his jacket, and then Arthur is in front of him.

"Let me." Arthur won't meet his eyes, but his fingers are deftly and quickly loosening the jacket, and Merlin mutely lets Arthur slide it off one arm, then the other.

Merlin begins removing his own trousers, and Arthur looks to him once he's put the jacket away. "My dressing gown," Merlin says. His throat feels like chalk. Arthur bows his head in acknowledgment and fetches the gown from the wardrobe, and Merlin holds out his arms for Arthur to put it on.

Arthur does it slowly, sliding each sleeve over Merlin's wrist, then forearm, then shoulder. Then he gets down on his knees to tie the robe around Merlin's waist, and Merlin's done this kind of thing while dressing Arthur in armor before and it's never felt so sexual. Arthur's movements are deliberate and he's staring fixedly up at Merlin's face as he ties the cloth belt into a knot at Merlin's hips. Arthur's hands linger for the slightest moment, and Merlin feels an echo of what passed between them earlier, when Merlin stopped himself from kissing Arthur.

Arthur stands, and Merlin feels the strongest urge to reach for him. It's almost like his magic, bubbling up inside him and begging to be used and needing to be shoved back. Merlin swallows it down and takes a step backward. "That will do," he says. "I'll--I'll see you in the morning."

Arthur steps back as well. "Ah," he says, his voice sounding far away. "Yes, goodnight." His eyes are on Merlin until he turns for the door, finally leaving, and Merlin grabs the bedpost for support and sags down onto the bed.

Merlin buries his head in his hands. He wants Arthur and he wants to kiss Arthur and now that Arthur knows his secret, he wants it all even more. He's never felt anything like this for someone before, and he doesn't know whether Arthur returns the feeling--and he can't even face that angle of questioning, because it makes him feel sick to think of whatever feelings he might have going unreturned.

He's somewhat horrified at himself. Here he is, attempting to become Arthur's protector and guide or something like that, and instead he goes and starts fancying him. Arthur, of all people, the most confounding and infuriating person Merlin's ever met, the future gods-damned King. Merlin wonders wildly if this is something that he can banish from himself with a spell, once he gets back into his own body.

Except that if he's truly honest with himself, he doesn't want to stop this. He wants to go to Arthur and be with him and tell him everything; it's shocking, how suddenly every desire in him seems to revolve around Arthur, and Merlin wonders if this sort of thing actually happens that fast or if he's just been oblivious to this being inside him all along.

He lets himself hate Arthur, just for a moment, because this isn't anything that he wanted to deal with. And it might all be uncomplicated if it were anyone else in the world, but it's not--it's Arthur, and that means it's a mess that Merlin can't see his way out of.

***

Merlin trains Arthur in his magic for the first few hours of the day, and it's impossible to to be around Arthur now without thinking of wanting him, but Merlin does his best. He manages not to let it affect his manner, at least, and again Arthur does admirably with the magic. After lunch, Gaius interrupts them. He says the spell is ready.

"Are you nervous?" Gaius demands of them, once they've arrived in the basement room they'll be using. It's dusty and it smells of old forgotten things. It's dark, too, lit only by a few candles, and Merlin can only make out shadows on Gaius' and Arthur's faces.

"Of course not," Arthur says.

Merlin wipes his sweaty palms on his breeches. "No," he says, because if Arthur's not admitting to nerves then he certainly isn't. "I'm sure the spell will go fine."

"Have I mentioned recently that you're both overconfident fools?" Gaius says, and Merlin doesn't have to see Arthur's face to know that Arthur's grinning as wide as he is.

"Let's get on with it then," Arthur says breezily, but Merlin knows his own voice--he can hear the hint of insecurity in Arthur's words.

"You're absolutely certain that he has enough control?" Gaius says to Merlin, and Merlin bites his lip.

"Yes," he says, and Gaius smacks the back of his head. "Ow!"

"I asked if you were absolutely certain," he says, and Merlin glares at Arthur, who is laughing at his pain.

"I'm certain that I gave him plenty of training," Merlin says. "If he's too thick to pull it off in the end, well, who can say?"

"I'm going to pull it off," Arthur says. "But if we don't start soon, I'm going to leave you both to your hand-wringing and go track down that damn witch myself.

"You need to learn some patience," Gaius snaps at him, and Merlin's sure that there's no way Gaius would speak to the prince like this if the prince weren't in Merlin's body. It's probably just Gaius' instinct to talk down to anyone who looks like Merlin, at this point.

Gaius has prepared a circle of stones for them on the floor, and the stones glow a dull red for a few moments when Merlin and Arthur sit inside the circle. Merlin feels the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

Arthur looks even more disconcerted. "What in the--?"

"Never mind about that," Gaius says as he places various herbs, pieces of cloth, and more stones around the outside of the circle. "They've just been prepared for the spell. I've taken care of all these other ingredients--you just need to bring the power."

"The spell that switched us in the first place didn't require all this," Merlin says, dubious.

"That's because she did it by accident. It must have been a total fluke, and she probably could have turned you both into newts or killed you just as easily."

"How cheering," Arthur mutters.

"It's ready," Gaius says, stepping back. "You remember the words?"

Arthur meets Merlin's eyes and nods. Merlin retrieves the small dagger from his belt, and Arthur does the same with his dagger.

They stare at each other. Merlin looks at his face, the shadows on his cheekbones, his jaw tense, those embarrassing ears and Arthur's own determination shining out of his own eyes.

"Ready whenever you are," he says.

Arthur's chest rises and falls, and his back straightens. He's silent for a few seconds longer, and Merlin's grateful that Arthur has spent so much of his life training for one thing or another, because he knows the importance of actually, truly being ready for something like this.

"Ready," he says finally, his voice like gravel. Merlin nods, and raises his dagger as Arthur raises his. He cuts a line on the back of his hand, straight across each knuckle. It stings, but the cut is shallow, like the spell instructed; across from him, Arthur does the same on his own hand. Still staring at each other, they rise their bleeding hands in fists above their heads.

"Blæd æt blæd," Arthur calls out, and Merlin's breath catches in his throat as he feels the first push of magic shudder against his body and the circle. The stones hum.

"Ærning æt ærning." His voice rasps, and the wound on Merlin's hand blazes in pain. He grits his teeth and sees Arthur narrow his eyes--he likely just felt the same hurt.

"Héafod æt héafod." The pain moves to Merlin's skull, pounding in his eardrums, and his vision blurs. He keeps his hand held up, and hears Arthur's harsh panting. Merlin wonders how much this is taking out of him.

"Brád æt brád. Mód æt mód. Sáwla æt sáwla!" Arthur's voice wavers and then rings out in a snarled shout, and he doesn't sound like Merlin anymore. It's something else, something--Merlin wonders if this happens to his voice every time he does a spell, and he just never hears it in himself.

He brings his hand down and reaches forward just as Arthur does, and they press the backs of their hands against each other in the middle of the circle.

"Hámsíþ," Arthur says, his voice now a soft murmur. He repeats the words twice more, and then clasps Merlin's hand.

"Ályne éðel!" Arthur's eyes flash gold, and all the blood in Merlin's body seems to flow from his hand, filling the circle, drowning them both. He feels his insides rend, and then darkness takes him.

Merlin wakes up to discover that something is trying to claw and beat its way out of his skull. He gags and squeezes his eyes shut and clutches at his head--and his muscles feel sluggish and atrophied, weighed down by molasses.

"Wha," he manages.

Two faces come into his field of vision, Gaius' and--oh, thank all the gods--Arthur's. Merlin touches his own face, his nose and eyes, and he's himself again. His magic is back, simmering and twisting his insides and likely responsible for the way his head feels.

"Merlin," Gaius murmurs, taking Merlin's hand off his forehead and replacing it with a cool cloth. "Are you...?"

"I'm me," Merlin says, and it's curious that hearing the sound of his own voice should make him want to weep with joy. He looks at Arthur. "Are you--"

"I'm also me, as a matter of fact," Arthur says, mocking, but his smile is wide and relieved.

Merlin grins back, then groans. "What the hell did you do to my head?"

"It's just the aftermath of the spell," Gaius says. "Arthur dealt with similar side effects--you'll be fine in a bit."

Merlin struggles to sit up. "I feel awful."

"He must be himself again, he's already whining," Arthur says to Gaius, and Merlin wonders if he's well enough to use magic to chuck something at Arthur's head.

"So the spell--"

"It went off without a hitch," Gaius says. "You must have done a good job on Arthur, because he performed the spell admirably."

"He must have done a good job? That was all me!" Arthur says.

"You were utterly hopeless. This deed will go down as the greatest teaching accomplishment in history," Merlin says, and Arthur knocks his knuckles against Merlin's knee.

"You can't talk to me like that anymore, I'm the prince again," Arthur says brightly. He looks happy and more at ease than he'd ever looked in Merlin's body, and Merlin's magic feels like it's singing inside him.

When they walk into the throne room to tell the king, there are several knights clustered around Uther, and he's getting fitted with armor. "Father," Arthur says, and the king looks up. He glances immediately at Merlin, then back at Arthur, and Merlin wonders if he can already tell.

"Leave us," Uther calls out, and just like that the throne room is empty but for them. "Well?" he says, looking back and forth between them again.

"The spell wore off," Arthur says, his face breaking out into a grin. "That sorceress must not have been very powerful, because a few hours ago we both fell unconscious and woke as ourselves again!"

"Is that so? Prove it." Uther's look is sharper now, and he beckons for Arthur to come over. Arthur goes, and they stand with their heads bent together. After a moment, he hears Uther laugh and clap Arthur on the back, and Merlin supposes that means he believes their story.

"Good then," Uther says, loud enough for Merlin to hear it. "If that's all settled, then you'd better get your armor and a pack ready, because you ride with us tomorrow."

"Tomorrow--?" Arthur stiffens and glares at the king. "Are you talking about the raids?"

"The raids are--postponed, only postponed," Uther says, scowling at the immediate triumphant look on Arthur's face. "Because we're now facing more trouble from the West."

"The Orkneys giving us trouble again?" Arthur says. His posture's shifted and he looks like a general now, competent and calm.

Uther shakes his head. "No, Lot continues to keep his veneer of peaceful intention. It's the villages under Sir Bruce Sans Pitié's baronage--they've uprisen and beheaded him, and now the usurpers wage war against us."

"Oh," says Arthur. "And we can't give them a boon for taking down Sir Bruce, I suppose?"

"Arthur, have respect for the dead," Uther snaps, but Arthur just shrugs.

"Sorry, but that man was a beast. I can't imagine that his people aren't better off with him gone."

"Be that as it may, we're in a position where we must fight keep the kingdom unified. Now go on, get yourself ready, I've told you that we ride out tomorrow."

Once they're back in Arthur's room, Merlin lets himself lean back against the door and just breathe. "Gods, Arthur. The moment we're recovered from a horrible spell, you have to ride off to war? I want a life less interesting!"

"We have to ride off to war," Arthur corrects him. "As my manservant, of course you'll be coming with me."

"Oh. Right." Merlin should possibly be nervous about the thought of riding off to battle--even just as a servant--but he finds that he'd rather be risking his life by Arthur's side than be safe at the castle and alone.

"And you'll need to get my horse and armor ready. Although I suppose..." Arthur chews on his lip, eyeing Merlin. "I suppose since you just helped me get my own body back, we can grab some other servants to get all my things ready, since you need to pack your own things as well."

Arthur doesn't usually try to make Merlin's life easier, and Merlin gives him a surprised smile. "Uh, thanks."

Arthur shrugs at him and looks awkward. It occurs to Merlin that he's looking at Arthur, Arthur who is Arthur again--and what's more, if he decided he wanted to make Arthur float a few inches off the ground right now, he could do it. Being back in his body and seeing Arthur in his is such a simple thing, but Merlin doubts he'll ever take it for granted again.

"I can't believe we pulled that spell off," he says.

Arthur grins and stretches his arms behind his head, looking like he's appreciating the same gift that Merlin is. "I can. Besides, surely you've faced more difficult spells?"

Merlin opens his mouth to answer, but hesitates. Arthur's questioning about magic has proven to be far from idle curiosity, and sure enough, the look Arthur gives him now is piercing.

"That depends," Merlin answers, carefully. "When I'm using magic to save my life or yours, I tend not to think about how difficult it is."

Arthur raises an eyebrow. "You've saved my life with magic? How many times?"

"I've honestly lost track."

"That first time, when father made you my servant--"

"Did you really think that the chandelier just happened to fall on her?"

Arthur glares at him. "So I'd be dead by now, without you."

Merlin shrugs. "You knew that before you found out I was a wizard, sire."

Arthur snorts, and mutters something that sounds like "impossible." He turns away from Merlin, looking out his window at the courtyard. The silence in the room feels loud, and Merlin wants some time to himself--he wants to go do some spells, just to prove that he still can. He runs a hand through his hair, then pulls at a loose thread on the cuff of his shirt.

"Please don't," Arthur says eventually, and Merlin stops fidgeting. "Don't lie to me about this, ever again."

Merlin feels a smile tugging at his lips. "I'm not planning on lying to you about anything ever again."

Arthur twists to face him, scowling. "I'm serious."

"So am I! Really, do you think I've enjoyed keeping secrets from everyone? People think I'm an idiot, not a powerful sorcerer."

"You are an idiot," Arthur says without missing a beat.

Merlin feels relief pouring through him, and he grins. "Thank you."

Arthur gives him a bemused look. "You're welcome?"

Merlin shakes his head and turns away before Arthur can see the affection in his eyes. He sets himself to the normal tasks he does before Arthur goes to sleep every night, straightening the sheets and turning down the bed. "So we're off to war tomorrow, eh?"

Arthur is suddenly next to him, his hand on Merlin's wrist to stop his movements. "You don't have to do that," Arthur says, a soft quality to his voice.

Merlin looks up at him. "Don't have to do what, make your bed? You remember that I'm your servant, don't you? We did switch back."

Arthur lets go of Merlin's wrist--Merlin wishes he wouldn't--and looks down. "I realize that. I still..."

Merlin looks at the top of Arthur's head as Arthur trails off. He steps back from the bed.

"Is it because you liked--" he swallows, hoping that Arthur won't be furious with him for saying this out loud. "Liked it when I ordered you around?"

Arthur raises his head, and the look in his eyes makes Merlin's knees feel week. "Maybe," he says with that arrogant curve to his lips that Merlin knows so well.

Merlin thinks that this might be a dare.

"All right. You do it, make the bed." Merlin steps away from the bed and gestures at it, raising his eyebrows at Arthur. He feels that if he's anything but certain and assumptive, if his voice wavers or if he looks nervous, the game is up.

Arthur's eyes narrow, but he moves to do it, straightening the pillows and pulling up the sheets and making it the same way Merlin does every night. His movements are slow, methodical, and Merlin sits down in Arthur's chair by the fire.

When Arthur finishes, Merlin says, "Come here and take off my boots."

"You are joking," Arthur says, but he's already kneeling down in front of Merlin. This is the third time he's taken off Merlin's shoes, but the first time since Merlin's been in his own body. Now he can watch Arthur bending over, he can see Arthur lick his lips when he undoes the laces of Merlin's boot, he can feel Arthur's strong hands on him. Merlin grips the edge of his chair and feels as if he's going mad.

Arthur sits back on his heels when he's done. "This is ridiculous," he says, seemingly more to himself than to Merlin.

"Stop talking," Merlin says, and Arthur's mouth snaps shut. "Kiss me."

Arthur's eyes blaze. For half a second they just stare at each other, and then Arthur scrambles forward too fast and clumsy, and almost knocks their heads together. His hand grabs at the back of Merlin's neck and his teeth hit Merlin's lips, and Merlin is grabbing back blindly.

Right now it feels like he wants this more than he's ever wanted anything. It's all connected, Arthur accepting Merlin's magic and kissing him and wanting his orders; everything feels tangled together in a wonderful and absolutely insane way. Merlin's tongue is in Arthur's mouth as he manages to stand and pull Arthur up with him, and then they're stumbling toward the bed. Arthur falls on his back and Merlin braces himself over him, his hands on the bed on either side of Arthur's shoulders. Each kiss feels more urgent than the last.

"You're so," Arthur stutters out, sounding entirely unlike his usual self. "I can't--"

Merlin shushes him by biting his lip, and Arthur groans loud against Merlin's teeth. Merlin goes on to kiss Arthur's cheek, jaw and neck, feeling Arthur's pulse point beneath his tongue. He can't believe this, not really--the crown prince is beneath him, so liquid and pliant that Merlin feels an echo of what it's like to wield all of the magical power that's at his command.

It's a kind of delicious torture to make himself pull back. "Stop," Merlin pants, and Arthur makes an objecting sound. Merlin steps back so that his body's no longer covering Arthur's. "Get up, go stand--go over there."

Merlin's voice is breathless and shaky, and Arthur glowers at him. "You are an unbelievable ass," he says through his teeth, but he goes to stand at the foot of the bed, radiating indignation.

Merlin grins and lies back down on the bed, sprawling. "Take off your clothes."

Arthur barks out a laugh. "Of course, I see." He shucks off his shirt, tossing it to the floor, and then bends over to remove his boots and breeches. "I should've known that was coming, shouldn't I?"

"I thought I told you to shut up," Merlin shoots back, but he can't keep the smile out of his voice, and Arthur laughs at him again.

"Well, you can't expect me to follow every order--it's not as if you follow all of mine," Arthur says, straightening up stark naked.

Merlin can't quite believe that it's apparently his destiny to have all of that, to have him. How the hell did he get so lucky?

Arthur cocks his hip and leers, the arrogant bastard. "Like what you see?"

"No, really, be quiet," Merlin says, putting an edge to his voice. Arthur rolls his eyes, but he doesn't say anything back.

Merlin licks his lips and takes his time looking, and he can tell it makes Arthur a little self-conscious, makes him shift his weight and chew his lip despite his bravado. "Touch yourself."

Arthur sucks in a breath. He wraps his right hand around his cock, already half-hard, and Merlin watches the muscles in his arm and shoulder move as he strokes himself. His eyelids flutter shut and it's almost too much--Merlin almost begs Arthur to stop, because he's never felt this overwhelmed, not since he was first aware of the magic leaking out of him when he was just a boy.

Merlin's already hard himself just from watching. He focuses on the movement of Arthur's shoulder and forearm, because glancing at Arthur's cockhead sliding in and out of Arthur's palm makes Merlin feel too drunk with lust. Arthur's eyes are still shut and his nostrils are flared and his lips are so damned red. Merlin has never wanted anything so badly in his life.

"Stop," he says, and Arthur shudders and does so, opening his eyes.

"Yes?" he says, looking to Merlin for direction.

"Come here," Merlin says, and Arthur's eyes flash with the same insanity that Merlin feels. He clambers back onto the bed, and Merlin struggles to get his shirt and breeches off as fast as possible.

"Gods, Merlin," Arthur says incredulously when they're finally both naked, and Merlin agrees with him entirely.

Merlin spreads his legs, and he can't help but feel preposterous, but instead of laughing at him Arthur's just--well, staring the same way Merlin was staring at Arthur moments before.

"Touch me, like you were doing for yourself."

"Bossy," Arthur mutters, but the hungry expression never leaves his face, and he touches Merlin's cock without hesitation. Arthur strokes him slowly at first with a steady rhythm, and Arthur's hands are bigger and stronger than Merlin's and his fingers are more callused. It's just a little rough, and every time Arthur squeezes him Merlin feels like he's going to break apart into a thousand pieces.

"Auhhh." Merlin lets his head fall back, giving himself up to the feel of Arthur's hand. He can hear Arthur's harsh breathing, and when he glances up Arthur is biting his lip again.

It's not even a thought so much as an image in Merlin's mind coupled with a sudden greed. "Your mouth," he hears himself say. "Use your mouth."

Arthur's hand stops and his mouth falls open. "You--you want me to--?"

"Yes, suck me, do it." Merlin's voice is sharp with impatience, and for a split second Arthur's face changes. He looks suddenly as if he needs--Merlin's not sure what, just that Arthur needs, and the intensity of it makes Merlin gawk.

And then Arthur leans down and edges back on the bed until the angle is right. He wraps his fingers around Merlin's cock again and pauses with his mouth over it, and Merlin clenches his fingers in the bedsheets.

"Do it," Merlin says again, and Arthur hisses in a breath. He gives Merlin that look again and then he takes half of Merlin's cock into his mouth and Merlin swallows his own tongue.

"Auhrgl," Merlin says as Arthur sucks hard and makes slurping noises. "Oh, oh bloody hell oh gods oh--" and he sounds like an imbecile but he can see Arthur's head moving up and down and it's wet and slick and by far the best thing he's ever felt. He would never have expected Arthur to be quite so enthusiastic, but then he never expected any of this. Arthur seems to be choking himself on Merlin's cock and Merlin tangles his fingers in Arthur's hair as Arthur's hands go to Merlin's hips, gripping and steadying him.

Merlin is just not going to last. "Arthur," he manages to slur out. "Arthur, m-move--"

Arthur lifts his head, and Merlin comes all over Arthur's knuckles and his own stomach.

"Oh," Arthur says, looking at his hand and then at Merlin. His lips look plump and bruised, and Merlin feels like all his muscles have been turned to jelly, but he reaches for Arthur anyway.

"I can't believe you," Merlin says as he pulls Arthur down on top of him. Arthur props himself up on his elbows and grins down at him.

"I know," he says breezily. "I'm unbelievable."

Merlin laughs and pokes at Arthur's side. "As if your head needed to increase in size." He kisses Arthur's smirking mouth and Arthur's hands go back to his hips, helping Merlin to roll on top of him.

"I'm not bigheaded, merely honest," Arthur says, and his voice is breathless and hoarse. His eyes are shining and his mouth is open and his cock is hard, and when Merlin reaches down to grope him he pushes his head back against the pillows. The movement arches his back and exposes the shadows and gold tones of his neck, and Merlin wants to make this so good for him--

As soon as he thinks it, he sees a spark of gold fire run down Arthur's neck and over his collarbones. Arthur gasps and tries to sit up, shivering as more tendrils flow down his chest and arms. "What--"

"It's okay, it's just me," Merlin says, hoping very much that it is okay. He can feel more of Arthur's skin through his magic, and Arthur's shiver turns into a shudder. His hips are moving, pushing his cock against Merlin's palm, and Merlin squeezes hard and goes faster.

"'s good," Arthur pants. He looks wilder than Merlin's ever seen him, and Merlin wants to make him look like this all the time. He wants Arthur to be his, because there's no question that he is Arthur's.

Merlin braces one arm the bed and tries to find a rhythm with his hand. Arthur is twisting beneath him, gold lines of Merlin's magic all over his body. "Merlin, you--" he stutters out, and Merlin dearly wants Arthur to say his name again, just like that.

"Arthur," he says, and Arthur clutches at him again, grabbing at the skin between Merlin's neck and shoulder. His grip hurts and Merlin wonders if it might bruise.

Merlin drags his palm up Arthur's foreskin and thumbs the head. He puts some magic into it, the same thing he occasionally uses on himself, and Arthur cries out. His whole body bucks and he digs his fingernails into Merlin's shoulder, coming in slick spurts on Merlin's fingers. Merlin keeps stroking him through it, and it's some time before Arthur's hold on him relaxes.

Merlin falls back down next to Arthur and Arthur rolls onto his side, stretching an arm over Merlin's chest. It's rather possessive, which is not something Merlin minds at all.

"Have you ever done that before?" Merlin asks, and Arthur snorts.

"Which part? Have I laid with a man, laid with a servant, or taken demands in bed?"

"I wasn't demanding--"

"Yes, you were." Arthur's voice is firm, and his fingers brush Merlin's ribs. "And no, I've never done that before."

Merlin swallows and looks over at Arthur. "You know I only did that because I thought you'd like it."

"Yes, I know Merlin, I don't think you're creative enough to do otherwise," Arthur says, the old imperious annoyance edging back into his voice. Ever since the first time Merlin ever mocked the prince, that voice has only made him want to act more impudent to annoy Arthur further.

"Well did you like it? You know I'm going to order you about all the time now, just to see if it gets you hard," Merlin says gleefully. Arthur doesn't answer his question, giving Merlin an embarrassed glare, and Merlin laughs and kisses the line of his jaw.

"You absolutely will not, or I'll dump you in the stocks," Arthur says, but there's no heat behind the threat. It gets even less believable when Arthur cups Merlin's jaw and tugs his head up to kiss his mouth, biting at Merlin's bottom lip.

"I'd like to see you try--mph--I'd turn you into a toad," Merlin retorts in between kisses. Arthur's eyes shine bright at him, and Merlin thinks about destiny and need and leans in to kiss Arthur again.