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Merlin set Arthur’s tray down with a clatter. Arthur jumped, and put down the speech he’d been working on.
“Take a break,” Merlin said. “Eat. I’ll be back in an hour to go over it.”
“Sit down,” Arthur said when Merlin turned to leave.
“Why?” Merlin asked, even as he sat.
“I miss you,” Arthur said, and then his eyes went wide.
“Really?” Merlin asked, ready for the punchline, unable to keep himself from hoping there wouldn’t be one. He told himself it didn’t matter that Arthur always laughed these things off. Merlin knew what he meant, and that was almost enough.
“Yes,” Arthur said, and slammed his hand on the table. Merlin jumped. “What is happening?”
Merlin frowned. “Are you feeling alright?”
“I feel perfectly normal,” Arthur snapped.
“You’re acting weird,” Merlin said.
Arthur glared at him. “I know.”
Merlin pursed his lips, thinking. “Why do you miss me?” He asked after a second.
“We don’t see each other as much since I became king. I didn’t realize how much I’d come to rely on your presence.” Arthur slapped his hand over his mouth, and stared at Merlin with wide eyes.
“Truth spell,” Merlin said. “The sorcerer from earlier, the one in the woods. The dust he threw over us.”
“So you’re under it too?” Arthur asked.
“I must be,” Merlin replied, nervous. “Gwaine and Leon too.”
“Gwaine’s honest anyway,” Arthur said. “It’ll be a problem for Leon. You should go tell him.”
“I can’t,” Merlin said, mind racing.
“Why not?”
“I’m under the spell too.”
Arthur raised an eyebrow. “And you’re in the habit of lying?”
“Yes,” Merlin said helplessly, then bit his tongue until he tasted the copper-rust rush of blood flooding his mouth.
Arthur just looked at him. Slowly, he took out a piece of parchment, wrote something on it, and walked over to the door of his chambers.
Merlin heard him call for a guard and instruct the missive to be delivered to Sir Leon. Arthur came back in, and sat down.
“It seems it mostly responds to direct questions,” Arthur said quietly.
Merlin opened his mouth, closed it again. Arthur wasn’t asking. He knew Merlin was lying to him, knew Merlin wouldn't be able to if he just asked, and he wasn’t asking.
Merlin wanted to tell him. He’d wanted to tell him since the day they’d met, almost more than he could bear since Uther’s death. Arthur’s grief and anger had given way to something resembling reason, and Merlin did not miss the way he turned a blind eye to rumours of sorcery.
Merlin did not fear for his life anymore. He knew Arthur too well, loved him too deeply, trusted him too much. Arthur would not hurt him. Merlin kept his secret now because it would hurt Arthur.
“Are you not going to ask?”
“I don’t know,” Arthur said, then, “why do you lie to me?”
“To protect you,” Merlin said at once, and watched the tension gather in the tight line of Arthur’s mouth, the hunch of his shoulders.
“That’s not your decision,” Arthur said.
“To protect myself, too,” Merlin said.
“From what?” Arthur asked.
“From you,” Merlin said, the truth tumbling out of him, and he slammed his eyes shut around it. He could see Arthur’s hurt from behind his eyelids, hear it in his sharp inhale.
“You’re afraid of me,” Arthur said dully, and Merlin was beyond grateful that it wasn’t a question. Arthur had never wanted to rule with fear the way his father had. He prided himself in it, and Merlin knew that.
“Don’t,” Merlin said. “Arthur, really. I’m not, not like that.”
“What are you afraid of then?”
“That you’ll hate me,” Merlin said at once. “I couldn’t live with that, Arthur. Anything else, I could, but not that.”
Arthur just looked at him.
“You can ask,” Merlin said quietly.
“No,” Arthur said.
Merlin blinked. “No?”
Arthur tilted his head up, determined. “Your secrets are your choice. My trust is mine.”
Merlin stared at him, mouth dry. His king, his purpose, his heart. Arthur had been betrayed more than once, more than twice, more times than Merlin could remember. From visiting lords to his own sister, Arthur opened his arms to people who stabbed him in the back.
His trust was shattered, unreachable, impossible to earn. Merlin was certain he hadn’t done anything to deserve it, but here Arthur was, giving it to him anyway.
He hadn’t done anything to deserve it. Perhaps he ought to start.
“I have magic,” Merlin said. “I was born with it. And I use it for you, Arthur. Only for you.”
Arthur stared at him, frozen. Merlin stared back, feeling like a coiled spring, a startled rabbit, a pane of glass, like at the slightest sign of danger he would break and run. He wouldn’t, though.
“I suppose I can’t accuse you of lying,” Arthur said hoarsely.
Merlin tried to smile.
“When you saved my life-” Arthur began.
“Which time?” Merlin asked. It was the kind of remark he always made and Arthur always rolled his eyes at, the kind that let him be honest without having to confess anything.
Arthur made a face like he’d just realized all of that, then simply said, “the first.”
“I used magic, yes.”
“We’d met twice, and I tried to kill you.”
“And I stopped you. Using magic.”
Arthur’s eyes widened. “You cheated!”
Merlin smiled, a real smile, and saw Arthur’s lips twitch in response.
A knock at the door interrupted them. Before Arthur could call out, Leon came barging in. Merlin raised his eyebrows. Leon was usually both unflappable and diligent about following etiquette, but the news of the spell must have shaken him.
He stopped when he saw their faces and positions, the tension in the air nearly audible.
“What’s going on?” He asked as he closed the door behind him.
“Merlin has magic,” Arthur said, then dropped his head onto the table with a bang.
“You’re going to hurt yourself,” Merlin said.
“That’s what you’re worried about?” Arthur demanded, whipping his head up.
“Among other things.”
Arthur looked at Leon. “What are you thinking?”
“That I should tell you about this,” Leon said, blinking. “But you already know, of course.”
He glanced at Merlin, and though there was fear in his eyes, there was also determination.
“What are you going to do then?” Arthur asked.
“Nothing, sire. My job is to protect you. Merlin would never harm you, sorcerer or not.”
Merlin was impressed. His voice had barely caught on the word. He offered Leon a shaky smile, and it was returned.
“What are you going to do about it?” Leon asked.
“Lift the ban,” Arthur said, then dropped his head onto the table again.
“What?” Merlin shrieked.
“Lift the ban,” Arthur said into the table, voice muffled. “Gods above, stop asking me questions! That’s an order!”
Leon shut his mouth with an audible click. Merlin just stared.
“For me?” He asked.
“Fucking obviously,” Arthur snapped. “That’s disobeying a direct order, Merlin. That’s treason.”
“And what are you going to do about it?” Merlin asked.
“Absolutely nothing,” Arthur hissed, unable to force through some comment about the stocks.
“Arthur,” Leon said, and they turned to look at him. Leon only used Arthur’s name when he was speaking to him as a friend, not a knight. “Are you sure about this?”
“Yes,” Arthur said, seeming almost surprised at his own answer. “Yes. The law is unjust. Merlin- Merlin has magic. Merlin isn’t evil. Magic can’t be either.”
Merlin’s eyes stung. Usually this was where Arthur would call him a girl or some other such nonsense, but Arthur looked up, met his eyes, and said, “I hate it when you cry.”
Merlin blinked rapidly. “I’ll try not to then.”
“Can you break the spell?” Leon asked.
“Probably,” Merlin said. “I just need to figure out what spell it is.”
“How?” Arthur asked.
“The books on magic Gaius and I keep hidden in his rooms,” Merlin said. He tensed up immediately, eyes locked on Arthur. “Don’t hurt him.”
“I won’t,” Arthur said, and Merlin relaxed.
“You can’t be wandering around the citadel like this,” Leon said. “You’ve got to get someone who’s not affected by the spell to take you.”
“I think we can manage a quick walk to the physician’s quarters,” Arthur sniffed.
“You told Leon I had magic two seconds after he came in,” Merlin said.
Arthur pursed his lips. “Point. Who can we take?”
“Gwen,” Leon said.
Arthur frowned at Merlin. “Gwen knows?”
Merlin started to shake his head, then stopped. “I don’t know. I never told her. But I trust her.”
“I’ll get her,” Leon said, and slipped out of the room with entirely too much relief.
“You’re really going to lift the ban?”
“Yes, Merlin. I can't lie, remember?”
Merlin nodded, and kept his mouth shut. He was rather certain anything he tried to say was going to come out as a confession, perhaps a whole litany of them, and he didn’t want that, not yet.
Gwen entered the room a few quiet minutes later. The look on her face told Merlin she already knew.
“I’ve told Leon to stay in his rooms,” Gwen said. She looked at Merlin. “Did Morgana know?”
Merlin felt Arthur’s gaze come to rest on him heavily as he shook his head.
Gwen’s hands twitched, and she twisted them in her skirt. “You should have told her.”
“I wish I had,” Merlin replied.
Gwen nodded, then turned to Arthur with a hint of a smile. “What did you do with the chicken you were meant to cook that day?”
“Told Merlin to do something with it,” Arthur said, and rolled his eyes. “That’s your most pressing question?”
Gwen shrugged, and turned back to Merlin.
“I’m sorry you’ve had to carry that secret,” she said, and Merlin’s throat tightened painfully. He wanted to make some joke about how it was quite easy to hide the chicken, actually, but he wasn’t sure the spell would allow that.
He held out his arms, hesitant, and Gwen hugged him tightly.
“Right,” she said, pulling away after a moment. “Let’s get you down to Gaius.”
“I’m coming,” Arthur said.
“Why?” Gwen asked.
“Because Merlin’s going,” Arthur said, then shook his head. “Please stop asking questions.”
Gwen’s mouth twitched, and she motioned for them to follow her. “No talking, either of you. There’s no point risking it. Arthur, walk in front.”
Arthur did, the two of them trailing behind. Anyone who made to greet them was given a curtsy and a hurried apology by Gwen, as she explained that the King was in a bit of a hurry, but he’d be with them as soon as he completed his duties for the day.
“I won’t be,” Arthur muttered as a particularly talkative guard gave up and walked away.
Gwen poked him between the shoulders, and ordered him to hush. Merlin grinned.
They reached Gaius’s without any issues, and Gwen nodded. “I’ll wait at the door,” she said, and slipped outside.
“What’s going on?” Gaius asked, glancing up from his desk.
“We’re under a truth spell, I’m going to figure out which one so I can break it,” Merlin said.
Gaius went white. “Sire-” he began.
“It’s alright,” Arthur said. “And you know I mean that.”
Gaius looked to Merlin, then back to Arthur.
“He knows,” Merlin said, helpfully.
“I gathered that,” Gaius said. “Wh-”
“Any direct question we have to answer completely honestly,” Arthur interrupted, an edge of desperation in his voice. “I never realized how many people ask me questions.”
Gaius closed his mouth. “You’re a better man than your father,” he said finally. “A better king, too.”
Arthur looked away.
Merlin opened the cabinet with the false back, and swept aside the various herbs that covered it. He murmured the word for open, and it swung out, revealing books on magic. There was no key, no lock. It could be opened by magic alone. Merlin kept his eyes forward, not wanting to see Arthur’s reaction.
“Clever,” Arthur said, then, “damn.”
Merlin grinned, turning around with his arms full of books. Arthur had come up to stand next to him, and he almost bludgeoned him with one of them. Arthur ducked, stood, and grabbed the rest of the books.
“So concerned about calling me smart, sire?” Merlin asked.
“Just worried about what else I might call you,” Arthur said, then glared at him.
Merlin grinned sheepishly, and wisely decided to forgo follow-up questions while Arthur was carrying heavy objects.
They took the books into his room, and Merlin began to read.
“Anything I can do?” Arthur asked.
“Probably not,” Merlin said. “You don’t know what we’re looking for.”
“And you do?”
Merlin shrugged. “Not the first time I’ve had to take a spell off you.”
Arthur blinked at him. “What was?”
“Sophia,” Merlin said. “She was a sidhe. It was a love spell. I didn’t knock you out, she drowned you to give the sidhe your soul. I pulled you out of the lake.”
Arthur stared at him. Merlin looked away.
They were silent for a while. Their usual manner of filling the quiet was teasing, and the spell barely allowed that.
“You can get Gwen to take you back to your room,” Merlin offered at one point.
“I’d rather be with you,” Arthur replied.
Merlin kindly ignored the flush spreading across Arthur’s face, and hoped he would extend Merlin the same courtesy.
“Found it!” Merlin said finally, relieved.
“You’re sure?”
“Truth spells are all fairly different. This is the one. Gaius has nearly all the antidote ingredients already.”
“What are we missing?”
“The dust of a killer,” Merlin read. “That’s easy. Give me a hunting knife.”
Arthur pulled one from his belt and handed it over.
Merlin held it above a bowl, and concentrated. The blade dissolved into a stream of silver dust. He handed the handle back to Arthur, who was almost smiling.
“I thought you’d be scared,” Merlin admitted, then cursed internally. Fucking truth spell.
Arthur blinked. “Of your magic? Merlin, you trip over your own feet. You steal my food. Why would I be afraid of you?”
“I’m the most powerful warlock to have ever lived,” Merlin said, unable to clench his teeth against the compulsion. “I beat Sigan and Nimueh. I’m stronger than Morgana, and you’re afraid of her, I know you are. You can’t lie to me about that, truth spell or not.”
Arthur looked down. “I’m not afraid of Morgana because of her magic,” he said. “I’m afraid of her because I think I’ll have to kill her, or she’ll kill me, and then I’ll have to either live with that or die knowing it. I’m afraid of her because she’s my sister and I’ve loved her most of my life, and if it comes to it I don’t know if I can stop her. My father never would have hesitated. Hesitating is all I do.”
“It makes you a good king,” Merlin said, “a good man.”
“Maybe,” Arthur said, “or maybe it will be the ruin of my kingdom.”
He looked up, and met Merlin’s eyes. “I would never hurt you. You would never hurt me. I’m not afraid of-” he struggled for a moment, then said, “your magic.”
“But you are afraid of me.” It was not a question.
“Of what I would do for you,” Arthur said, “yes. Terrified.”
Merlin thought of the questing beast, of Arthur’s sword at Uther’s throat, of jumping in front of the Dorocha. “I sympathize.”
Arthur smiled wryly. “I thought you might.”
Merlin mixed the rest of the antidote in silence. When he was finished, he nodded.
“Right. That’s all. I want to say something to you, before I take it off, so you know I mean it.”
Arthur stood and peered over Merlin’s shoulder at the powder. “Go on then.”
Merlin turned, and looked into Arthur’s eyes. He studied the sweep of his eyelashes, the curve of his jaw. His King. His destiny.
“I love you,” Merlin said, then stumbled backwards into the table, upending it.
Arthur reached around him and caught the antidote. “Careful!”
“That’s not what I meant to say,” Merlin said.
“Well there’s no need to take it out on the table,” Arthur said.
“I just meant to say that you will be the greatest king Albion has ever known. Not in spite of your hesitance, or kindness, or uncertainty, but because of it. You were born to be king, Arthur. I was born to serve you. You are my purpose, my destiny, and I’m proud of that.”
Arthur just looked at him. His ears were red, but he was otherwise calm, smile just pulling at his lips. Merlin felt slightly out of control.
“That sounds,” Arthur said, “like the first thing you said.”
Merlin blinked. “Yes,” he admitted, “but you've never heard it before.”
“I’m hearing it now,” Arthur said.
He set the antidote down on a shelf, took two quick steps forwards, and kissed Merlin.
Merlin pulled himself up and forwards, pushing them together, the world narrowing to warm points of contact and the steady beat of Arthur, Arthur, Arthur.
Merlin stared at him when they broke apart, mouth open and sore.
“Don’t ask me any questions,” Arthur said. “I’m likely to say something about how much I love you, and how long I’ve been wanting to do that for.”
“How long?” Merlin asked immediately.
“Since the day we met,” Arthur said, then cuffed Merlin across the head. “Administer the damn cure.”
“Whatever you want, sire,” Merlin said, beaming.
Arthur raised an eyebrow. “I’ll hold you to that.”
Merlin threw the dust over them before he could say something truly embarrassing in response.
“Now we find out if you can muster the vulnerability to say it without the spell,” Merlin said, half teasing.
Arthur rolled his eyes. “Idiot.”
“Prat.”
“I love you.”
Merlin grinned. “Will wonders never cease?”
“It’s nice to not have to answer that,” Arthur said. “Means I can do more important things.”
“Oh? Like what?”
Arthur shook his head, and pulled Merlin in to kiss him again.