castalie | Merlin fic - Arthur/Merlin

First thing I saw when I checked my inbox after getting home today? The second beta for my Merlin fic; that's what I call great timing! So here comes my Merlin story, thus proving that it wasn't just my imagination, it really did exist :-)

Title: Virescit Vulnere Virtus
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 9.840+
Warnings/genre: Spoilers for all of series 1. Future!fic
Summary: Arthur and Merlin ten years down the road.

Thanks go to

starwatcher307 and

yami_tai for the beta, as well as

turps33 and

angeliksmall for the cheering and encouragements *kisses*

Arthur had finished reading the last of the letters he'd been handed that morning. As he considered the grim news, planning new strategies and possible contingencies, a noise from outside the tent caught his attention.

Little of what happened in the camp escaped him. Arthur was always aware of his surroundings and never completely let down his guard; he couldn't afford to. He turned slowly on his seat and listened more closely. Hearing the guards greet the newcomer respectfully, he relaxed minutely.

He remained seated and watched as an old man, wearing a dark-blue cape, stepped into the tent. Arthur stood up silently and stared at the intruder, waiting.

The old man pulled back his hood, revealing a mass of dishevelled grey hair, and returned Arthur's gaze, apparently in no hurry to bow to his king.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Since you're pretending to be someone else, Merlin, could you at least try and pretend to show me the respect I'm due?"

An impish smile, at odds with the old face, greeted his reproach.

"I'm powerful, yes," Merlin said, "but not powerful enough for that." He paused. "Sire." The voice was old and frail, but without a doubt mocking and irreverent. Familiar, too - always familiar, no matter the disguise.

A small smile tugged involuntarily at Arthur's lips. "I should send you to the stocks, teach you some manners. That is," he corrected himself, "try to teach you some manners. Again."

Laughter echoed in the tent at the idle threat. The voice sounded younger and younger as the spell ended, and Arthur was once again facing the man who'd been his companion for the last decade.

"I'm afraid we'd lose very valuable food if you did that," Merlin said. "And how would you feed your army, then? The next village where you could replenish our supplies is quite far, isn't it? It wouldn't be a good idea, my Lord."

"Maybe not," Arthur agreed as he crossed his arms over his chest and leant back against the table that often substituted as a desk, "but it certainly would be worth it to see the mighty warlock put in his place again. It's a sight I do miss. A lot."

"That's because you're an ass," Merlin replied, with comfortable familiarity. Without missing a beat, he added, "A royal one."

This, too, was so familiar that Arthur didn't even need to think before he played his part. "And you're still an annoying prat who doesn't know when to shut up."

Merlin smiled at him, the blue of his eyes eclipsed by gold, proof that he'd used his magic intensely the past few days. It gave him an otherwordly look that Arthur had had no choice but to grow accustomed to through the years. But Merlin's voice remained unchanged; he was just quieter than he had been as a boy. And that, perhaps more than any other change, had taken some time to adjust to.

"Guess we deserve each other, then?"

Arthur focused his attention back on Merlin and offered him one of his trademark smirks. "Guess so."

Then, deciding that the pleasantries were over and it was time for serious matters, he motioned Merlin to a chair.

Arthur waited for him to be seated. "What news?"

Merlin's face became sombre at the question, in sharp contrast to the more or less relaxed look he'd worn during their little banter. This was the king's advisor talking now, not the long-time friend. Or the lover.

"Bad, I'm afraid."

Arthur's lips tightened in a tense line. "So Loth and Mordred are official allies now."

Merlin nodded.

"It was to be expected," Arthur said tensely, but with no heat. He couldn't even get angry at the turn of events. He'd more or less resigned himself to the fact that they were on their way to a raging war. The battles they'd fought previously were now merely rehearsals for bigger events.

"Expected, though still disappointing news," Merlin added. There was no mistaking the anger in his voice, and Arthur could swear he felt the air around them change, prickling at his skin.

This was a recurring phenomenon, as if Merlin's anger was sometimes too much for his body to contain, as if his skin got too tight and he needed an outlet to prevent being consumed by it. Or perhaps, Arthur sometimes speculated, Merlin was so unaccustomed to feeling anger that his own body rebelled against it.

It never lasted long, though, and Arthur never felt threatened by it.

Out of nowhere, Arthur had a flash of the easy-going boy he'd met all those years ago, and he felt a pang of regret for all that they'd lost. Then he admonished himself; it wasn't the time for reminiscing.

"Yes, disappointing," he agreed, "but this is no fairytale. It's not as if things could be magically solved."

A small smile adorned Merlin's face and Arthur could see a little of the tension ease from him. "Despite all the magic going on, I know. More's the pity, though."

"Well," Arthur suggested, "should you find a spell that will give us the happy ending we want, let me know."

Merlin bowed to him, smile still in place. "That I will do, your Majesty."

Arthur's reply was interrupted when someone called his name outside the tent.

"Yes?"

A servant entered and bowed to him. "The meal has been served, Sire. Where do you wish to eat?"

Arthur wanted nothing more than to stay with Merlin and savour the peace and quiet he was sorely missing these days. But his knights would want to know of the news Merlin had brought - and they needed the company of their king in these times of hardship.

"We'll eat with the others. Merlin and I will be there shortly."

He watched as the servant silently left the tent, then turned toward Merlin. "Is that all right with you?" he asked belatedly.

Merlin laughed. "Nice of you to ask me after the fact, Arthur; you're always so thoughtful." He made a dismissive gesture with his hand. "It'll be fine. Besides, I'm sure your knights are impatiently awaiting your presence."

"Our knights," Arthur corrected.

"If you will..."

Merlin stood and Arthur waited for him to be at his side. He reached out a hand swiftly and grasped a handful of Merlin's hair. Then he pulled his lover towards him, his lips a breath away from Merlin's. "Nice to see you still remember who's the king here." His grip tightened, keeping Merlin still.

Merlin's eyelids fluttered, and Arthur felt something stir inside him. Merlin was so easy, this had never changed. Arthur hoped it never would.

They hadn't been together for what seemed an eternity, and he missed the intimacy. Arthur closed the distance that was left between them, starting the kiss slowly, loving how Merlin's lips parted immediately and let him in. Then his tongue slid inside Merlin's mouth and he was finally tasting him again.

He felt one of Merlin's hands grab his forearm, fingers clenching and unclenching on the rough material of his clothes in rhythm with the push and pull of the kiss. He always gave as good as he took.

Arthur tugged at Merlin's hair harder yet and swallowed the eager little groan that escaped his mouth. It wasn't enough, it could never be enough, but it would have to do. They couldn't indulge yet. Later, maybe.

A last flick of his tongue against Merlin's lips, now glistening with shared moisture, and Arthur pulled back. His thumb stroked the inside of Merlin's wrist in a silent promise for more, later, and he straightened.

"Let's join our comrades, now."

"Yes," Merlin said, a little breathlessly, "let's."

As he stepped outside the tent, Arthur turned towards his lover. "No tricks tonight, if you please. And no showing off."

Merlin affected a wounded look. "Showing off? Surely you must be thinking of another sorcerer."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I'm serious."

"And boring, but we already knew that."

Arthur chose to ignore the remark and walked towards the tent where the other knights were gathered.

He supposed he should say 'thank you' for the distraction Merlin always offered him when he most needed it, but he didn't want to encourage him too much. Merlin still could be insufferable when he chose. The years hadn't changed that part of him enough that it had disappeared.

Still, he was grateful, so as Merlin caught up with him, striding at his side, their steps matching perfectly, Arthur let his fingers run across Merlin's palm as a silent 'thank you'.

The noise that came from the communal tent made it clear that most of their knights were waiting for them.

As they entered, the men all turned towards them and bowed in almost perfect synch. Arthur and Merlin returned the greetings, and Arthur gave himself a minute to appreciate the sight in front of him.

They were all loyal, faithful friends, who would fight at his side. Die at his side, too, though Arthur had always told them he much preferred they lived for him. Owain's and Pellinore's deaths still weighed on his mind. Sadly, they'd been only the first in a long list of friends he'd lost through the years.

Arthur felt a momentary regret as he wished Lancelot was here with the rest of his men. But the valiant knight had undertaken a mission for his king a fortnight previously, and he wasn't due to return for a couple more days.

As he looked around, Arthur spotted a young knight, wearing different colours than Camelot's, who was talking with three other men.

Arthur glanced at Merlin. "There's someone I want you to meet." He beckoned the young man, who didn't hesitate in excusing himself from the group of soldiers he was talking to. He approached the king and the sorcerer, confidence showing in his every step.

Merlin watched him approach, obvious curiosity on his face; he was always eager to meet new people, which was why Arthur chose to introduce the newcomer right away. But, of more significance, Arthur felt it was the recognition due the sorcerer, the honour he rightfully deserved. Merlin was no longer the servant he once had been. Although, Arthur amended his own thoughts, he'd been so much more than a servant, even back then.

"Sire."

Arthur answered the bow. "Lord d'Elis." Then he turned slightly towards Merlin. "I wanted to introduce you to my advisor, and great sorcerer of the court, Merlin." Arthur had a fleeting thought for the early years of their partnership, after they'd both come to power; he'd had to train himself not to laugh when he used the title. Now, he couldn't even think of not saying it with respect.

"Lord Mélian d'Elis," Arthur started, knowing the effect his next words would have on Merlin, "has heard a lot about you. He has been eager to meet you."

As expected, Merlin's face shone with pleasure. Arthur was well aware that others seldom sought Merlin's presence; people were usually wary of him, at best. To have someone genuinely interested in making his acquaintance was a nice change. It had pleased Arthur immensely, to find his friend so well regarded.

"Really?" Merlin asked, delight in his voice, an expectant look on his face. "And what have you heard?"

"Many things, my Lord," Mélian said without showing the slightest hesitation. In the three days since they'd met, Arthur had discovered that honesty was one of the young knight's best traits. It was one of the reasons why he'd befriended him so quickly. "From the most fascinating to the most outrageous."

Said honesty seemed to please Merlin as well; he grinned at them both. "I wonder about the 'most outrageous' rumours you speak of. I am sure many people would tell you I can sometimes be outrageous. There might be some truth in them."

Mélian smiled back. "I'd be honoured to share some of those rumours with you; see if you can extricate the truth from the lie."

Arthur's hand clapped Merlin on the back. "Take advantage of the man's interest, Merlin; it's not every day you'll meet someone who wants to hear you talk."

Merlin glared at him for a second before looking innocently at Mélian. "Is your king looking for a powerful sorcerer? I could change my oath of loyalty easily, I'm sure."

Arthur's laughter made some of the men turn towards them. "Right. As if any other king would put up with you." He shook his head to signify how unlikely that would be, but cut the banter short. Now it was time to eat, and to talk more seriously. He spoke to the assembled knights. "All right; let's gather around the table, my friends. I'm hungry. And we have many things to discuss."

An almost deafening noise filled the room as everyone took their seats. Arthur stepped towards his own, while motioning both Merlin and Mélian to follow him. He could hear them talk softly.

"If I may, I must say I had thought you would be older."

"Oh, that could be arranged. Though not tonight. Or not until Arthur had said all he has to say." A pause, then a stage whisper that was, for all intents and purposes, aimed at him, "And drunk a lot. Then we'll see."

Arthur had the feeling that he would have to rein in his sorcerer by the end of the night.

He'd feared, at first, that people would mistake Merlin for a jester with all the magic tricks - the respect he'd gained with sweat and tears over the years was important, and Arthur didn't want to see it lost. But he'd soon realised that Merlin performed his magic with the utmost seriousness, and always demonstrated only the tricks that could be also used in battle. And he kept such demonstrations restrained and down-to-earth, trying to show that magic wasn't just about fear and pain. Merlin could be sneaky like that.

Besides, it usually helped lighten the mood. The soldiers had come to appreciate those little moments when the great sorcerer, whose very name could frighten people, would use his magic to help them forget about the war and the death and the worry, even if only for a short time.

So if Merlin decided to do it again tonight, Arthur might raise only a token protest. Merlin wouldn't be fooled, and it was practically expected of him. And Arthur didn't like to disappoint his friend.

He took a sip of his drink, wishing the dinner was already finished. He really felt the need to be alone with Merlin, far from everything else, but it would have to wait. Duty before rest, he knew that, and accepted it. It was just that sometimes, he accepted it less gracefully than others.

Arthur woke in the middle of the night, unsettled. He kept his eyes closed and listened.

Near him, at the entrance of the tent, the guards were talking softly to each other, and around him he could hear the quiet steps of the servants doing their errands even in the middle of the night. A little further away, he heard the not so discreet voices of some of his soldiers. From a slightly greater distance came the sound of the horses snorting as they slept, or the soft nicker of one to another.

Nothing seemed to have interrupted life in the camp, but Arthur wasn't surprised; he knew it wasn't a sound that had disturbed him. He was used to waking at the slightest noise that his mind registered as being out of place, but this time it was different; it wasn't so much a noise as a feeling that something was wrong. Like something was missing.

"Merlin?" he called in a whisper. He didn't want to disrupt the quiet of the night if nothing was wrong; even less did he want to attract attention if danger was imminent.

Silence was his answer. He sat up, the heavy covers falling to his waist, and looked around. The tent was dark but for a single candle that was still burning; it was enough for him to reassure himself that there was no danger here - at least, nothing that was easily discernable.

His eyes fell on the silhouette of his lover, highlighted by the flickering of the candle. Merlin was sitting in the chair that he'd made his own ever since they'd made camp, elbows on his thighs, his head in his hands. He was completely still and silent.

"Merlin," Arthur called again, raising his voice a little, though not enough that he'd bring the attention of the guards. Still nothing. He swore and immediately got out of bed, taking two strides before kneeling in front of his friend.

"Merlin, answer me!" he snapped, using the voice that was meant to be not only heard, but immediately obeyed. "Stop it!" He grabbed Merlin's hands and realised he'd need to unclench the fingers one by one if he didn't want Merlin to pull out strands of his hair.

"I hate being ignored," he said, his voice hard but belied by the gentleness of his fingers stroking Merlin's. "You should know that by now. Come back to me!"

With some effort, Arthur managed to pull the gripping hands away from Merlin's hair. He continued the soothing motion over the long fingers, and sighed in relief when he felt Merlin's body relax under his ministration.

"Come on, now. Are you all right?" His voice was still whisper-soft, but it should be enough now that Merlin had started coming back to him. "Damned be Mordred," he couldn't help but swear. He didn't need to hear the reason behind Merlin's huddled position; he knew what had happened. Knew who was at fault.

He didn't say anything more, but pressed his forehead against Merlin's, offering comfort and solidarity. They remained in that position until Merlin pulled back, staring mutely at Arthur.

"Has he gone silent?" Arthur asked.

Merlin didn't reply immediately.

Arthur shook him a little - not roughly, just enough to bring his focus solely on him. "I'm talking to you, Merlin. Has he gone silent now? Are you hurt?"

"I'm not hurt." Merlin's voice was hoarse, as if he'd screamed for a long time.

Arthur frowned. "What is it?" When there was no answer, he repeated his question. "Is he still talking to you?"

"He hasn't really stopped for the last few days, now," Merlin answered softly, watching Arthur intently.

"What?" Arthur stood up, rigid with shock. This was new. Always before, Merlin had managed to block Mordred's thoughts; the attacks never lasted.

"I don't know why, but recently he's been even more intent in trying to communicate with me."

"Communicate." Arthur all but spat the word. "Is that what you call the pain he makes you endure each time?"

Merlin shrugged. "I'm not sure I can find another word for it."

Clenching his fists, Arthur looked down at Merlin. "And when were you planning on telling me about this new development?"

"It's hardly a new development," Merlin said, defensively. The declaration sounded hollow, since he avoided meeting Arthur's gaze; there was little doubt that he felt somewhat guilty about keeping that kind of information from his king.

Arthur went to light a torch in the centre of the tent. He didn't want to start an argument now. Not when Merlin's face was tense from the pain of having Mordred invade his thoughts. Or, perhaps more accurately, from the pain of keeping Mordred at bay and preventing him setting roots too deep inside him.

But understanding did not diminish the anger. Arthur planted himself again in front of Merlin. "Haven't you learned anything about keeping secrets from me?"

Merlin's face shot up, eyes wide. Then he composed himself. "I was going to tell you."

"I'll have to take your word for it now, won't I?" Arthur shot back, still angry; he faced away from Merlin again, effectively cutting himself off from his lover.

"Isn't my word enough?" The voice was so quiet Arthur could have missed the response - except for how he was always tuned to Merlin.

His anger dissolved at once; of course it was enough. He knew Merlin wouldn't have kept this from him. Arthur ran a hand through his hair. "You know it is," he said. He took a deep breath and came back to Merlin. Kneeling in front of him again, he put his hand on Merlin's face. "You look exhausted. You should come back to bed, rest."

A little chuckle escaped Merlin's lips. "That's your answer to everything."

"Maybe so," Arthur agreed, almost dismissively. "It's good advice, if you ask me."

"Maybe," Merlin agreed. He cocked his head to the side. "King Arthur Pendragon, kneeling at my feet, always such a pretty sight."

Arthur squeezed Merlin's knees at that. "Funny, I always think you look better on your knees for me."

"I bet you do." Merlin brushed a hand over his eyes; it was shaking slightly.

"I'm serious, Merlin. I think your little 'communication'," Arthur didn't try to hide the sarcasm behind the words, "with Mordred is really taking its toll on you. You must rest; we have a busy day ahead of us."

Merlin stood and Arthur made sure he was steady on his feet. He put a hand at the small of Merlin's back and led him gently to their bed.

"I think you should take a sleeping draught."

Merlin sat on the bed, shaking his head. "They dull my senses."

Sitting by his side, Arthur snorted. "Yes, they dull your senses; that's how they make you sleep undisturbed. That’s the whole point, genius!"

Now under the covers, Merlin turned his head to look at Arthur, a thoughtful look on his face. "You sounded like Gaius, just now."

"Well," Arthur started, intending to make a joke of it before reconsidering. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Merlin nodded almost absent-mindedly. Thoughts of his old mentor always saddened him. And Arthur knew Gaius had been more than that to Merlin. It didn't matter that they had not been blood-related; Merlin also felt the grief of losing a father.

Reaching out a hand, Arthur tried to locate the vial of sleeping draught he kept near the bed. When he found it, he realised it was empty.

"You're lucky. There will be no dulling your senses tonight. We'll need to make more tomorrow." He couldn't believe he hadn't paid more attention to their supplies. Though it was no wonder, with everything else he had to take care of these days.

"I prefer it that way," Merlin said. "I feel like I need to be fully aware at the moment."

"Of what?" Arthur propped himself on his elbow.

"Everything," Merlin told him.

Arthur simply watched Merlin's face without answering, observing the intense look in his eyes that told him all about Merlin's inner torments. "What did he tell you that upsets you so much? Has he changed his little speech?"

Merlin startled at that.

Arthur shrugged. "Why, yes, I can guess it's something he said. I'm not that dense."

"You used to be," Merlin replied easily, almost against his will.

Under the covers, Arthur kicked him in the shin. "Stop it. Answer me."

"Do you command me?" Merlin asked, eyebrows raised high.

"I do." Arthur couldn't help the serious tone; he needed to know. "He still wants you," he stated, for he knew that for a fact. "But it can't be only that. I mean, he did from the moment he saw you." And damn if it didn't sound creepy said like that. But Arthur knew the young druid had felt a bond with Merlin right away, and it had increased in strength as the boy became a young man. Unfortunately, that young man was powerful and vengeful.

"It's just the way he approaches me now," Merlin finally said, concern in his voice. "With more intent."

This didn't sound good. "What do you mean?" Arthur sat up, eyes fixed on Merlin.

"I can't say," Merlin replied, frustration clear in his voice "Maybe like he knows something I don't. He sounds so sure of himself."

"Sure about what? That I will lose? That you'll join him?" Arthur almost spat the words; they felt obscene in his mouth.

"Yes. Just, everything."

Arthur hated the defeated tone of Merlin's voice.

"I chose him over you once. I won't make the same mistake again."

"Of course you won't," Arthur said harshly, unable to keep his voice level. He just couldn't imagine anyone ever believing Merlin could betray him like that. "You didn't know back then. No-one knew."

Merlin shook his head, as usual unwilling to shrug off the blame he felt. "The great dragon tried to tell me. I didn't heed his warnings."

Arthur leaned towards him, scowling fiercely. "That lying and manipulative dragon?"

"I know," Merlin said, anger in his own voice. Arthur usually tried to avoid talking about the creature; he understood that Merlin had never really recovered from the betrayal. "I know he had his own agenda. I, of all people, know, Arthur. But things were different back then. And in some lies, there can be truth. Agenda or not, he was right."

"If he'd wanted to prevent all of this," Arthur replied, "he should have told you everything he knew instead of giving you half-answers and cryptic information." He was adamant in his rejection of Merlin's guilt. "No, you couldn't have known, nor done anything to prevent any of it. You did the best you could. He always led you to make your own choices without giving you the details you needed to reach those decisions."

Merlin closed his eyes, as if in pain. "A choice to spare the boy's life and endanger yours."

"Stop it!" Arthur snapped. Merlin opened his eyes again and stared at him.

Arthur wanted to say many things, but he chose to remain silent. It was an argument they'd had more times than he cared to think about over the years.

Choices had been made, paths had been taken... maybe some things could have been avoided. Many lives might possibly have been spared. But perhaps a different path would have had even worse consequences. They would never know.

All Arthur knew was that he was here, today, with Merlin. The rest didn't mean anything. As powerful as Merlin was, he couldn't change the past, so torturing themselves about it was a waste of time.

"How many times have we had this conversation?"

"Too many times to count," Merlin said wearily.

"We both - no, we all thought we were doing the right thing at the time." Morgana herself had certainly taken many risks, and lost a lot by doing so. "And I can't honestly say I'd have been able to put him to death, even knowing what was awaiting us."

"Always so noble," Merlin whispered.

Arthur smiled. "That's not how my father phrased it." Then, more seriously, "I wanted to have the child locked up at first. If I'd known how it would end... I might have asked for something different, but I don't think I could have killed him. Maybe sent him away on a boat, sent him off to the sea."

"Life might have been simpler if you had."

They both fell silent after that. Arthur chose to change the subject.

"Or maybe I could send you away." He lay down again, turning on his side to face Merlin. "Give you to Mordred. Just to show him how wrong he is to want you. He would give you back in a matter of a couple of days and then leave me alone."

Merlin tried to look outraged, but amusement shone in his eyes. "What would you do without me? You'd be lost, Arthur, don't try to deny it."

"Please! I'd be more than fine. Besides, I could still marry Guinevere." The words rolled easily from his mouth, but he frowned slightly as he remembered a time when it wasn't so much a joke.

At one time, he'd even used that threat to push Merlin away. Or tried to, because Arthur's little ploys never seemed to deter him. Merlin believed in fate and, over time, he'd made it clear that Arthur should as well. He hadn't exactly offered any other choices.

"It would be a bad idea."

"What?" Arthur had gotten a little lost in his thoughts.

"I said," Merlin repeated slowly, "it would be a bad idea."

"Really?"

"Yes."

When nothing more was coming, Arthur conceded the point and asked, "Pray tell, why is that?"

Merlin seemed to hesitate for a second but then, for whatever reason, decided to satisfy Arthur's curiosity. He'd already said too much, as he well knew. He couldn't take back the words. "Marrying Gwen would have started a chain of events that ended with you losing Camelot."

As he said this, something flickered in Merlin's eyes, a shadow of perception that made Arthur believe he wasn't just jesting. That realization hurt. It hurt to think that he could ever lose Camelot, could lose everything he'd fought for. He ached at the thought of losing the last remnant of his father, that precious gift, earned with sweat and blood and tears, even before Uther had died.

One of Arthur's hands gripped Merlin's hip, tight, perhaps too tight, but Merlin didn't react in any way, didn't utter a word of complaint. He merely stared at Arthur with that intense, alien look of his.

"How do you know?"

"I just do."

Arthur Pendragon wasn't afraid of many things, but the look he sometimes caught on his lover's face was one of them. Not because Merlin frightened him - he could never be scared of Merlin, no matter how powerful a warlock he had become, or how much more powerful he might yet become - but because sometimes Arthur would look at his companion and see a stranger looking back at him.

In those moments he could catch a glimpse of the other Merlin, the one that made people, peasants and nobles alike, avert their eyes and make quick signs to ward off the demon. Arthur couldn't even blame them, not really. As unfair as it was, after a lifetime of fearing magic, prejudice against sorcerers was hard to break. And after dealing with Mordred's intrigues and conspiracies, it was easy to understand why people continued to fear Merlin.

He manhandled Merlin so that their bodies touched. There was no naked skin, but the warmth was enough. He pressed his nose to Merlin's neck and breathed him in; this, at least, was always the same - Merlin's scent. No matter how much he changed, this always remained constant.

Arthur shook his head, nose brushing against Merlin's skin, making him shiver against his own body. He refused to imagine a world where Camelot wouldn't be his anymore; his to love, his to protect. Arthur closed his eyes, and when he opened them again he just smirked down at Merlin and dismissed his words. "You've always been so melodramatic."

Merlin looked at him and smiled softly, as if to say he accepted the rebuff for what it was: a poorly disguised attempt at refusing a reality that could have been, and was too much to bear.

"I remember how often you said that to me when we were younger. Among other things."

"You were always so daft," Arthur said, lips hovering over Merlin's cheek, the shell of his ear, thankful that Merlin let it go. "I thought maybe repeating things over and over would have some impact."

"You were dense all right. As if that ever worked on me."

Arthur silenced him with a kiss. It was enough for tonight. "Sleep now."

Merlin nodded and closed his eyes.

Morning came too soon, as it always did. But Arthur had been awake before the sun rose, anticipating some news from Caewyn. He'd heard of an attack from an adar llwch gwin the month before, and had immediately dispatched garrison of men to the area, hoping for the best, but dreading the worst.

The reports he'd received early this morning had confirmed his fears. He could add Sir Kerlian to the list of friends who'd been lost in battle. And Kerlian was far from the only casualty. A dozen other soldiers had died and, sadly, as many villagers who'd had the misfortune to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

From what he could gather from the reports, there was no mistaking the single-mindedness with which the beast had attacked the military camp. It hadn't tried to go for the stores of food or the livestock, but only for the men, and it'd left as suddenly as it'd appeared.

The stealth attack had Mordred's name all over it.

A wave of rage suffused him. He felt so helpless. How he wished sometimes that a duel would be enough to settle the war. Simply challenge the offender and fight him - one on one, under the rules of chivalry and honour. No innocent deaths, no friends giving their lives for an oath they'd made, no unnecessary losses.

His fingers curled around the hilt of his sword. He closed his eyes as he slid the blade out of the sheath, feeling its power invade him, as it always did.

In all the kingdom, there was no better sword than Excalibur. Not just because it had almost perfect balance, but because no other sword had ever felt so natural when he used it; like an extension of his arm, of his hand... and in the last couple of years, Arthur had thought it might even be a sort of extension of his soul. They fit completely, as if they were one.

Years ago, when he'd been deemed worthy and Excalibur had been handed to him, Merlin had told him about its origins. Arthur had believed him right away; there was no denying that there was magic in the sword, from the point of the blade to the end of the pommel. Arthur had felt it the very first time he'd touched the sword... and as he grew from boy to man, from prince to king, he'd become more and more attuned to it.

It had made him pause once, years ago, when he realised that, somehow, Excalibur was quite similar to Merlin in the way his friend related to him; not just as a powerful weapon to use for the good of the kingdom, but as a part of him. Dearly won, but only because he was worth it. Not that he would ever share that epiphany with Merlin.

Raising the sword in front of him, Arthur contemplated it for a long moment. Today, he didn't feel the same kind of joy that always surged in him whenever he looked at Excalibur, when he held it tight in his fist, his palm and fingers gripping the hilt. Today he was angry. He felt almost detached from it.

As he contemplated Excalibur, feeling its weight in his hand, Arthur felt another wave of rage hit him. The sword was useless: its meaning, the symbol it was supposed to represent, meant nothing if he couldn't achieve anything himself.

He felt more than heard Merlin join him in the tent. Merlin could be silent as a shadow when he chose to be.

"William told me," was all he said. He stopped at Arthur's side. Waited.

Arthur turned to him sharply. "What did he tell you? That we lost another friend, more soldiers, more villagers? That we lost some more ground because of Mordred's deadly little game?" Then he lowered his sword and invaded Merlin's space. "How did you not know? Didn't he tell you all about his latest victory?"

But Merlin refused to rise to the bait. Arthur couldn't decide whether to be relieved or annoyed.

"You know it doesn't work like that."

And of course he knew. He watched as Merlin reached a hand to him slowly, as if to take the measure of his mood, before resting it on his shoulder when no protest came. Merlin's hand was heavy and warm. Still. Calming. Not adjectives Arthur ever thought could describe his friend, and yet...

"I know you're not angry with me," Merlin said, confidently. "Who are you angry at, then? Mordred? Or yourself?"

Arthur took a step away from Merlin, shrugging the hand from his shoulder. He delicately put the sword on the table in front of him, looking down at it. "What good is it," he opened his arms, "what good is all of this, if I can't protect my friends? My people? Sometimes—" but he stopped abruptly, not sure he wanted to finish that sentence.

"Sometimes?" Merlin asked.

Still, Arthur remained silent.

Merlin was as stubborn as ever, however. He planted himself in front of Arthur. "Sometimes what, Arthur?" he insisted.

But Arthur was no less stubborn, and he hesitated to express his inner misgivings out loud. Especially when they seemed to go against everything he stood for, had been raised to be. He wasn't even sure he liked to think of such things. But the betrayal, the pain, the fear that led to hatred that led to more pain - sometimes it was unutterably exhausting.

"Nothing," he snapped.

"You can't start to doubt yourself now, Arthur," Merlin said, voice back to normal. He didn't raise his voice, didn't snap, but there was a strength to the words that couldn't be ignored.

When Merlin took on that tone, Arthur could never ignore him.

"As long as the sword is yours, there is no reason to doubt yourself. You know that. It's yours by right."

"I lost it once," Arthur reminded him.

Merlin cringed, obviously remembering the memorable event. "Technically you're not the one who lost it." He shrugged. "I think neither of us was ready back then."

"Guess my father was, though." Arthur knew this was a bit cruel, but he'd heard the story so often that it'd started to be funny after a while.

This time, Merlin smiled, however slightly. "I almost died when he reached for it. I thought I was done for."

"You were scared to death of that great dragon of yours, admit it."

"Oh, I'll admit it, all right. I knew I'd disappointed him greatly and back then it really hurt." He gave a self-deprecating little shrug, "If I'd only known how it would end..." his words trailed off before he focused again on Arthur. "I also knew I'd failed you." He smiled softly. "I didn't like it at all."

Arthur acknowledged his words with a little nod before taking a step towards the table; he ran his fingers along the flat of his sword’s blade. He didn't startle when Merlin appeared at his side, but he shivered a little when Merlin's fingers roamed over his, following the slow motion.

"Want to know what your father told me once?" Merlin asked, lips close to his ears, gentle puffs of air caressing Arthur's skin. He didn't wait for an answer. "He told me that the greater the challenges, the greater the king."

"He always did have a high opinion of himself," Arthur said, wanting to diffuse the tension. His chest always tightened when he thought of his father. Leaving boyhood behind hadn't changed that.

"You're such an ass," Merlin griped. "You know what he meant; know who he was talking about." Merlin pressed his hand over Arthur's. "Besides, even Uther Pendragon didn't think that highly of himself."

Arthur remained silent, digesting Merlin's words. For his entire life, Uther had tried to prepare him for the task of being king. He'd never made it easy - sometimes even seemed to take pleasure in making it painful - but, in the end, he'd been a great teacher. Even when - perhaps especially when - he showed Arthur paths he didn't want to tread. But it did help, to know that Uther had trusted him to be a worthy successor.

Gently, Arthur dislodged Merlin's hand; he put Excalibur back where it belonged, feeling more at peace now. He shifted under Merlin's scrutiny, but he was used to being the centre of Merlin's attention.

With a last caress to the blade - he never worried that it'd cut his skin - he offered Merlin a look that he hoped said all he wanted to say.

When he saw Merlin's little nod in his direction, he knew he'd been heard. He sat at the table, fingers on the rolls he had yet to read. He looked up at Merlin.

"You and my father did have civil conversations, after all, didn't you?"

Merlin leant back against the table, a thoughtful look on his face. "I suppose we did." A little grin tugged at his lips "Once he realised I wasn't a waste of air."

"Well," Arthur started, half his attention already on the documents spread all over the surface of his desk, "you can't fault people for ever thinking you were nothing but a useless manservant. And a dim one, at that."

Merlin laughed. "I see, the conversation is over, then. And thank you, your Majesty, for being ever so kind." He straightened. "I think I'll go and find Mélian, now. See if I can talk him into introducing me to his king. I haven't given up on the idea of leaving you."

"You do that." Arthur listened to Merlin's steps as he went away, then frowned when he felt eyes on his back. He turned and saw Merlin looking at him.

Raising his eyebrows in a silent question, Arthur waited.

"I need to talk with some of your men," Merlin announced, "but afterwards I'll go and gather some plants in the hills to stock up our supplies. Once you're done with the more pressing of your duties, I think you should join me. It will do you good to be away, even if it's for a short moment."

Arthur nodded.

"If you don't, I'll call you until you cave in."

"The last time you used the trees to call my name, Eadwyn and Anna almost had a heart attack," Arthur complained. "And you know how difficult it is to find good servants!"

"You know what to do, then, Sire!" And without waiting for a reply, Merlin left to take care of his own duties.

Arthur watched him walk away till Merlin turned and wasn't visible anymore, though he could still hear his voice calling out names. Then when he couldn't even hear Merlin's voice, Arthur went back to his reading, knowing that before long, he would have many visitors giving him new reports or asking for an audience.

Riding at a leisurely canter, Arthur searched for Merlin. He finally spotted him in the middle of a large meadow; he was on his knees, holding some plants in his hand. Arthur slowed his horse and trotted in his lover's direction, eyes fixed on him.

Advancing slowly, Arthur watched Merlin examine the plants in his hands and mouth words at them - Arthur sometimes wondered how many spells Merlin knew - before putting them in his worn out bag; he was apparently satisfied with his find. From the look of it, Merlin's spot was a good one, which wasn't surprising; easy enough to find what you wanted when the land itself spoke to you.

What are you waiting for?

Years ago, Arthur would have been startled as he heard Merlin's voice - or, not really his voice but Merlin's words, there was a difference, he'd learnt - seem to come from thin air. Now he was just used to it; like he was used to most of Merlin's magic. His father surely would have thought him mad.

A slight tightening of the reins slowed the stallion to a walk, and Arthur approached Merlin slowly. He took a deep breath; it was good being away from the military camp, even for a little while. When he was a couple of steps away, Arthur halted and dismounted, his hand resting on the horse's neck as he continued to watch Merlin.

"You're always staring. It’s a freaky habit I wish I could break you of."

"I remember one of my teachers who said only the guilty ones disliked being stared at." He gave a last pat to his horse and took a stride to stand over Merlin. "Do you have something to hide?"

Still kneeling, Merlin tilted his head up and smiled. "I'm hiding so many things, Arthur," he teased. "Your head would spin."

"I'd say you're crap at keeping secrets, but we both know you can hide things if you wish to."

"Well, you can take comfort in the fact that you found out about my secrets in the end."

Merlin didn't seem in any hurry to stop picking the plants. He was concentrating on the herbs in his hands, touching them and whispering to them before putting them away, as if his king wasn't standing there.

Arthur was grateful that, sometimes, he could feel more like a man than a king with Merlin. He liked it; liked the sense of normalcy and intimacy that went with Merlin's almost casual attitude towards him.

He'd sometimes wondered, when he first became king, if Merlin wouldn't take advantage of their connection, but he shouldn't have worried. Merlin had never crossed any line, didn't even seem interested in doing so. They never forgot who they truly were - never forgot what they were to each other. Friends, lovers, king and sorcerer... the secret was to know how to navigate through the shifting eddies of their relationship.

They'd mastered the trick and it was... maybe not easy as such, but less complicated than it could have been. Once they'd found the right balance, maintaining it had become second nature for both of them.

"Are you ignoring me?"

He startled. "What? Of course not. I was just…"

"Lost in thought, I could see that," Merlin said, brushing his hands against his trousers. "I was just saying you surprised me when you found out. It did prove that you weren't as daft as you looked, I guess."

Arthur tried to keep a smile off his face at the familiar insult; he grasped a handful of Merlin's hair and forced his head back a little, baring the long neck. "Do you forget who I am?" he said teasingly.

"Never," Merlin breathed.

Arthur would have given anything to just kiss Merlin senseless and see where it led them, but now wasn't the time. He opened his hand and took a step, trying to calm himself. Then he crossed his arms over his chest and cleared his throat.

"I had some interesting conversations with your good friend Mélian and some of his companions before coming to join you. He was singing your praise. You apparently made a very good impression on him."

Merlin smirked and stood up, facing him. "What can I say, they all want me. Lancelot was just the first back then. You're lucky fate decided that I was supposed to be yours, or else I would have chosen someone more interesting."

Arthur raised an eyebrow, scepticism clear on his face. "Really?"

"Most definitely," Merlin said, nodding. "In any case, someone who knows how to appreciate me."

"Like Mélian?"

"To name just one."

Arthur had something important to discuss, but he didn't want to stop their little game too abruptly. So he allowed himself to play the part a little while longer. "If they only knew the pain and effort it took me to train you, I'm sure they'd be more appreciative of me."

Merlin chuckled before squatting and roaming his hand over the grass. He cast a quick - and amused - glance at Arthur. "Feeling neglected, your Majesty?"

"Never with you at my side." Arthur had wanted to make his comment lewd, he realised a bit too late that it'd come out in a much different way.

Merlin's hands paused over the plants he was going to dig up and Arthur could see his eyes widen for an instant. Then he straightened before standing up again, a little frown marring his features. He tilted his head slightly to the side. Arthur could tell from the look on his face that Merlin was trying to find the right words to say to him.

"You haven't been yourself lately," was what Merlin chose.

Not exactly the kind of comment Arthur wanted to hear. But he couldn't say he was surprised. Not really. He hadn't felt like himself lately; it was no wonder Merlin had felt it too.

That it took him so long to mention it was surprising, though. Perhaps he'd been waiting for Arthur to bring it up himself. Or maybe he'd just waited till the right moment.

As he looked around, he realised it might have been the reason why Merlin had been so insistent on Arthur joining him; it was just the two of them here, isolated from the others. No sound at all but the wind blowing softly around them, almost caressing, almost like a shield.

If he wanted, he could try and pretend they were still who they were back then - Prince Arthur on an errand with his servant Merlin. He'd already had responsibilities, but he hadn't carried such a heavy weight on his shoulders.

"Ten years is a long time to hold a kingdom together," Merlin said slowly, as if he wanted Arthur to not just listen to him but to hear him. "A long time to protect it against powerful enemies. Forge new alliances while keeping the old ones. Always having to pay attention about what you say to whom and how you say it, for fear of having people turn against you. Not always being able to tell friend from foe. No-one would begrudge you if you felt a bit weary sometimes."

Arthur snorted. "No-one? Please, Merlin, I'm king. My father—" but he couldn't finish as Merlin continued almost fiercely, cutting him off.

"What about him? You spent your life trying to follow his footsteps, but in your own way. You fought with him, stood up to him. You kept saying you'd do things differently, that your kingdom would be different from the one your father reigned over. And you did that. You accomplished all that by yourself." A pause. "Well, I did help, but you did it all. Not your father."

"I know that."

"So where's the problem?"

"Sometimes it just feels like I'm letting him down," Arthur admitted. It cost him, but this was Merlin. "Ten years... sometimes it does feel like a lifetime, then I remember how many years my father reigned and it feels like I'm just..."

"If you say 'weak'," Merlin interrupted him gravely, as if he truly meant his next words, "I'm going to turn you into an ass, Arthur. I will!"

Arthur couldn't help laughing. "Shut up, I'm trying to answer your question. You should be attentive."

"Sorry."

He sighed. "It just feels like I'm ruining everything. Everything he stood for, everything he gave me."

"You really are stupid, Arthur," Merlin said softly. "You haven't 'ruined' anything - and if there's someone responsible for making things so difficult, it's Mordred. And one day he'll pay for it, heed my words."

Arthur nodded; yes, he wanted to believe that.

"Secondly, Uther didn't 'give' you anything either, you earned it. And you changed Camelot, making her a better kingdom. So you're feeling a bit weary after ten years? It's hardly a crime. You think Uther never felt like taking a break? Kings are still men, they just have broader shoulders because of all the weight they're forced to carry. And I think you forget something."

Staring at Merlin intently, Arthur was curious as to what he could be forgetting. "Please, enlighten me?"

"Me," Merlin said, a hand over his chest. "I'm here to help you. Your father had Gaius, till the end he had him, but only to a certain extent. After the war against everything magical, there were too many secrets between them; they could never really ever be completely whole again. Gaius gave him so much, taking great risks in doing so, but he could have given him so much more. We're luckier, in that regard."

Arthur nodded. Merlin was right - as unnerving as that could be.

"Don't cut yourself off from me, Arthur, please?"

"I don't."

"Don't take me for a fool." Merlin's voice was harsher now. "If you doubt again, if you feel like things are getting the better of you, come to me. I always tell you the truth, I know who you are; you're a great king. Well, even great kings need to rely on people. So, you can rely on me."

"I've always known that."

"But sometimes you forget. I hate that."

Arthur didn't really know how to say 'sorry'. It was a habit that never failed to drive Merlin mad, but he did know how to apologise, even if not in words. He bowed to Merlin - a slight but heartfelt bow that was worth a long discourse.

"All right, then," Merlin whispered. "Do you want to go back?"

Arthur looked around. "Where's your horse?"

"Nearby; she'll come to me when I need her," Merlin replied matter-of-factly.

"Of course." Arthur rolled his eyes. "I guess we can stay here a little longer. I wanted to talk to you about something, anyway."

"Yes?"

"After talking with some of my messengers, it seems one of your disguises is starting to be a bit too well known. They tell me the old man is becoming too familiar in some places; from what I was told, the word is getting around that he's not who he seems. You're starting to get a bit too famous for your own good..."

"You mean the old man is starting to get a bit famous," Merlin said, a look of disapproval on his face. "I on the other hand have been famous for a long time, now. Just ask Lord d'Elis."

Arthur shook his head. "I almost forgot that modesty was a quality that was missing in your personality."

"Flatterer." Then Merlin got serious. "Don't you worry, though, it should be of no concern at all."

Before Arthur could ask for an explanation, he saw the air shimmer around Merlin's body and felt his skin prickle for a brief moment. Then, where Merlin had stood mere seconds ago, he saw in his place a child with unruly hair and big eyes - and a grin that looked like it would split the little face in two.

"See?" Merlin piped up, his voice high and clear, the voice of a little boy. "No concern at all."

Then, the same way he'd became a child, Merlin turned back to his own self. He looked incredibly proud of himself, with a wild look on his face.

Arthur realised that his lover had used a lot of magic during recent weeks. He'd never understood how it worked, but it seemed like it could be taxing on the body and the mind after a while. He wondered if Mordred had the same reaction.

He realised what he was doing and berated himself; he should be thinking of Merlin's health first and not of Mordred's potential weakness. Except this could be of importance. He'd need to ask Merlin about that part of his magic.

As time passed, Arthur understood his father more and more; sometimes you couldn't help thinking of your kingdom before your friends. But as long as Arthur managed to keep a balance between competing necessities, it would be all right. And he trusted Merlin to put him back on track, should he ever forget.

He decided that he could wait till later to question Merlin about the after-effects of using magic for long periods of time. For now, he wanted to delay thinking of the war and Mordred for a little while longer.

Arthur assumed a disturbed expression and let a slight frown mar his features. "That was a bit creepy, Merlin. I wish you'd taken another form."

From Merlin's delighted laugh, it was apparently what he'd expected to hear.

Arthur couldn't help but feel something ease in his chest at the carefree sound of Merlin's laugh and the amused look on his face.

Because when Merlin laughed like that - and even though Arthur could still see the man Merlin had become - he could also get a glimpse of the boy Merlin had been not so long ago. And, no, he wasn't talking about the small child Merlin had turned himself into, but the young boy who he'd met all those years before. The boy he'd tried so hard to dislike, to no avail. The boy who'd accepted a destiny filled with pain and betrayal to protect a complete stranger.

With Merlin by his side, Arthur did feel stronger. If he had but one anchor in life, it was this one. He just needed never to forget.

"Thinking serious thoughts again, I see," Merlin said, pulling him out of his reverie.

"Maybe."

"There's no 'maybe' about it. But I'll leave you to your noble thoughts."

"You do that." Arthur turned and called his horse, who came to him immediately. "I guess we'd better go back. We can't stay here all day." He stroked the strong neck before mounting and settling in the saddle, reins firmly held in his hands.

When he focused his attention back on Merlin, the other man was waiting for his mare as she trotted towards him. He had made no sound nor gesture at all. As always when he demonstrated this particular skill, Arthur thought of how useful it would be if he, too, could manage this close communion with his beast.

"Race you to the camp, Arthur?" Merlin's eyes were alight and, though he lounged seemingly at ease in the saddle, Arthur knew the mare would spring forward at the slightest hint of command.

"I'm too dignified for that kind of juvenile behaviour."

Merlin's laugh seemed amplified by the faint breeze surrounding them.

"Dignified. Of course, your Majesty; I forgot." Merlin guided his horse to walk around Arthur for a second, a teasing smile on his face. "Although it's true that you do look very dignified from here; I don't know how I didn't see it at first glance."

Shaking his head, Arthur turned his horse to follow Merlin's movement. "Always so insolent, Merlin."

"Always, yes. And I know you love it!" Then Merlin whispered something to his horse and galloped away, laughter surrounding him.

Arthur didn't hesitate to follow, revelling in the way the air caressed his skin as his horse sped towards Merlin. Already it felt as though he could breathe better, as if the weight on his shoulders was easier to carry.

With Merlin at his side, he supposed there was nothing he couldn't do; he just needed to believe that, whatever happened, they would face it together.

Fin

Story will be cross-posted at least once, as soon as I find myself a Merlin comm.

PS: Last time I wrote and posted a fic? April 2008 - not even kidding - so this is a big deal for me \o/