Romance Fan Fiction ❯ Black and Gold ❯ And So It Goes ( Chapter 2 )

Dawn rose slowly, spreading her shell-pink fingers across the sky in smooth streaks that littered the horizon. Fog drifted across the distant mountains, and the sun climbed upwards, shining the first few, white rays of light into the castle.

 

The servants were the first to arise, waking to stoke the fires, start breakfast, prepare baths and set out clothing. Within Arthur's chambers, the mass of crumpled crimson blankets atop the ornate bed began to stir.

 

Merlin's lashes flickered and his eyes opened; he gasped quietly and then a flush of red rushed to his cheeks. It hadn't been all a dream; there was his perfect lover, slumbering quietly on. Their fingers were loosely entwined, their legs wrapped around each other. Sometime in the night Arthur had slipped from his body, but their hips remained pressed close together. Arthur's face was slack and calm; his eyes twitched slightly and his lips widened a little. Merlin deduced the prince was having a dream when he sighed and rolled over slightly, mumbling incoherently. The sorcerer heard his name mixed in with the jumble and he grinned proudly.

 

His eyes flickered around the room and he sighed to himself; Merlin would have to rise soon, put on his public appearance. He would have to be himself again; a mere servant, not a lover. Something within him stirred; he knew Arthur would be putting up his price-façade soon after he rose. Merlin's lower lip trembled and he snuggled a little closer to Arthur to relish his last few moments with his lover before the day began. He decided to study the prince while he waited, relishing the memories of last night.

 

First, he examined the smooth, arched, golden curve of the prince's eyebrows that tapered down smoothly to meet his nose, which was handsomely sharp. His cheeks were roses, softly tinted, and his lips… Merlin smiled adoringly. Arthur's lips were beautiful, perfect, a wonderful blush color, full and symmetric. His jaw was handsome and angular. He saved the best for last, and so paused to examine Arthur's mussed golden mop of hair before continuing. His eyes traced the pregnant curves of his ears, noted how they were a baby-pink around the edges, examined the depth of the shadows. Finally, his eyes slipped to Arthur's closed ones. He could very easily remember the exact shade of them, their brightness and life and intelligence. In sleep, his lashes were beautifully curved and thick. They flickered every now and then, threatening to open and see Merlin gazing at him.

 

Deciding not to push his luck, Merlin softly exhaled and extracted himself from his lovers limp form, tucking the blankets neatly back around his naked frame before slipping out of bed. He then gave a muted groan; his body was rather sore from last night's passions, stained with his seed. Wincing and softly limping, he glanced around the room; his clothes were scattered, thrown into distant corners, slung up on furniture. Merlin sighed a little and grabbed his shirt; the fastenings on the top were torn from Arthur's haste in last night's undressing. He would have to ask Gwen to fix that. Pulling it over his head, he could feel the bruise in his neck; he examined it in the shiny goblet on Arthur's table and sighed. The slender, pale curve of his neck was splotched with a purpled-red mark, rather small but noticeable. His scarf would just have to be tighter, more secure for a week or so. Speaking of scarves…

 

He continued his search for his clothing, and found his soiled trousers in a distant corner. He examined them, gave them a sniff, and puckered his nose; he would have to either go without or borrow Arthur's. And, thinking about it, Arthur probably would not be very particular to sharing under-wear. Frowning unhappily to himself, Merlin retrieved his simple brown pants and tugged them on, wincing at the chafe of the fabric on his more intimate regions. When he had brushed through his hair with a deer-bone comb of Arthur's, he found his scarf and tied it around his neck, making it a little snugger than usual, taking extra care in tying the knot.

 

Now decent, Merlin began to clean Arthur's room, picking up the prince's now-soiled clothes from the floor, tossing them in a basket to be washed. He stuffed his own trousers in the pocket of his jacket as he pulled the soft, worn-out, thick cotton on, to be washed with his own clothing as to avoid suspicion. Merlin put away the clean laundry that sat on the table, pushed in the chair, cleaned out the fireplace (cheating with magic to avoid dirtying his hands) and organized the small pile of wood. Examining his handiwork, the boy grinned to himself and then glanced at Arthur; he was still firmly asleep. Standing by the prince's table, Merlin paused thoughtfully, pulled off his scarf, and dipped the edge of it in a goblet of water on the table; he then lifted his shirt and scrubbed at his stomach until it was rubbed raw and the traces of his love-stains were gone. Merlin then carefully, very carefully retied his scarf, straightened it, tugged the knot to ensure it was tight, and glanced again in the mirror of the polished goblet. Finding Arthur's marking on his neck to be well hidden, he then slipped back over to the bed to give the slumbering prince a kiss on the forehead, and then started downstairs to ensure the cooks had started his breakfast.

 

The kitchens were already bustling, filled with cooks and workers who were starting food for the king, the prince, the various nobles of the palace, and so forth. He peeked in, taking care to hide his slight limp, and went over to check on the cook preparing Arthur's food platter; various fruits, some fine bread and cheeses, boiled eggs, a bit of chicken meat. The cook raised his brow at Merlin; since when did the prince's lazy manservant ever check on Arthur's food? Merlin gave him a sheepish grin.

 

“I thought I'd just…check in…woke up early and all that.” The cook nodded and gestured to the platter.

 

“I'm about done here, if you'd like to take it up.”

 

Merlin took the platter in his hands as the cook loaded a jug of pumpkin juice and a goblet onto it; the servant tottered a little and started back up to Arthur's chambers, as the cook watched with a confused eye.

 

He nearly bumped into Gwen along the way; she was on her way to Morgana's chambers, carrying a small vase of flowers and a jug of water. “Oh, Merlin!” She smiled brightly at the servant and immediately launched into conversation with him. “You look happy!”

 

Merlin's ears reddened. “Do I?”

 

“Yes!” Gwen's kind eyes crinkled into half-moons as her rosy cheeks were pushed into roundness with her smile.

 

“Ah, well… I guess it's just a beautiful day. What's not to be happy about?” Merlin stumbled a little over his words, throat suddenly dry.

 

Gwen rocked a little back and forth, bashful, and her eyes dropped; she then noticed the platter cradled carefully in Merlin's arms. “You're bringing Arthur his breakfast?”

 

“Oh, well, yes, he gave me specific instructions last night to make sure breakfast was prepared. Something about waking up early for something…” Merlin lied; the back of his neck became slightly damp with sweat. He was never very good with the whole deception thing, and he began to swallow convulsively.

 

“I guess that's just Arthur.” Gwen giggled, adjusting the load in her arms. Merlin glanced at it, a sudden escape route forming in his head.

 

“Oh, uh, be careful not to drop any of that. Do you need help?”

 

The maidservant rolled her eyes at him. “Of course not, and besides, your hands are just as full.” She smiled sweetly again with one of her characteristic head-tilts. “I guess you should get on and bring that to the prince.”

 

Merlin's lips pulled into a rather relieved smile; he tried to hide his uplifted expression as he started in the direction of Arthur's chambers down the hall while Gwen began to turn aside to greet Morgana. “Yeah.... See you later!” Gwen nodded in response and said her goodbyes as they parted. Feeling uplifted, the servant continued on down the hall; his worn leather-skin boots scarcely made a sound as he strode down the cream stone floor, and he walked a bit slower than usual to ensure he wouldn't trip.

 

As he reached the wooden door of Arthur's room, he paused, considering a knock, and then decided against it; he pushed open the unlocked door with his shoulder and a slight pressure of one hand, cradling the platter in one arm. Merlin scarcely peeked in as he shut the door behind him.

 

Arthur was watching him, lazily, as Merlin set the platter on the table without meeting his gaze. His heart fluttered unsteadily. Would Arthur have already put on his prince-facade? Would that be their last encounter as lovers? Scattered, fearful thoughts began to chase each other inside his head and Merlin took a soft breath of air and swallowed before turning to meet Arthur's eyes.

 

The prince was smiling; that was a good sign. Merlin took a chance and strode a few steps closer. “I brought you breakfast, m'lord.” He murmured, tilting his head and playing every part the good servant. Arthur laughed in good humor.

 

“Merlin, get over here.”

 

The sorcerer grinned and took the few strides over to his bed before leaping atop the covers and slipping onto Arthur's relaxed form. The prince strained his neck up a bit and kissed Merlin, full and deep; the servant gave a little shiver - he was butter in his lover's arms. A sly hand slipped down his pale body, barely rustling his shirt and pants, and gave Merlin's tight rump a little squeeze; the servant squeaked into the kiss, startled, and pulled back to see the golden prince grinning at him in an almost-irritating manner. Arthur grinded his hips up into Merlin's belly, reminding him, pressing through the blankets between them so that Merlin could feel his slightly stiffened member. The servant gasped a little into his bare neck, and could feel Arthur's pouty lips pressing along his jaw, his cheek, his forehead, raking back and forth along his face slowly, lovingly.

 

Merlin both felt and heard the murmur and breath of Arthur's voice across his temple. “Mmmph, I should get up before I need you too badly.”

 

The servant smirked into Arthur's neck and slipped off the coverlet. “Well, then, let's get you dressed, my lord.” He emphasized the last words, a wicked gleam in his eye. Arthur easily caught onto his servant's tone and his golden brow arched upwards in curiosity. He pushed the covers back and climbed out of bed gracefully, his feet finding the floor while his hands found the mattress and pushed. Merlin was already arranging his changing-screen, throwing articles of clothing along the top for him to wear; his favorite red shirt, a fresh pair of trousers, tight-fitting cotton pants, clean socks. The prince could hear the boy's melodic voice rise in a chuckle. “I suppose we'll save the bath for later.” Arthur groaned softly; he could practically hear Merlin's grin and waggling eyebrows.

 

As Arthur strode a few steps closer, watching his servant work with his fine brow keenly pressing upwards to meet his bangs and his lips parted in an indulgent smile, Merlin took his hand and dragged him behind the gilded-wooden screen. Once they were both hidden, Merlin pressed his body to Arthur's, met his lips in a kiss, raked his hands eagerly along Arthur's warm, silky skin. The prince responded in full, giving a surprised groan while Merlin's hips gyrated against his own. The servant's lengthy fingers trailed along Arthur's midsection, gently cupped the defined globes of his rear, stroked the backs of his thighs; the raven-haired boy leaned his head into Arthur's chest and gasped when Arthur's calloused fingers sought out the buckle of his pants and slipped inside, easily finding his slightly-swollen member and favoring it with a few solid pumps of his wrist. “Mmm, naughty today, are we?” Arthur chuckled, while Merlin squirmed in his arms excitedly and moaned his delight.

 

The prince shivered as Merlin's teeth clasped over one nipple, holding it steady while his tongue flicked back and forth, teasing the gentle flesh until it became stiff and swollen-red. His hands nimbly dragged the waist of Merlin's pants down until they rested along his thighs, and, drawing out his lover's member, Arthur began to rub in earnest against his swollen length. He clasped his hands around the two of them and Merlin groaned softly, deafening the sound by pressing his lips tightly into Arthur's neck, arms slipping up to wrap around his shoulders. The servant's hips began to move in opposition to Arthur's; sliding up as he slid down, down as he slid up, their lengths rubbing along each other's, stiff and swollen and eagerly throbbing.

 

Merlin began to draw his breaths in shuddering gasps; his sensitive body was reacting quickly to the stimulations. Arthur pressed his lips to the crown of Merlin's head, inhaling his sweet jasmine-honey scent, softly moaning his name. Their bodies begged for one another, but their daily pretenses kept the lovers at bay. Arthur groaned quietly, his head tilting back again as he shuddered and gave a low cry. “Merlin, Merlin…” He murmured, keeping his voice down so as not to attract attention as the royal household started to bustle with life. “Oh, god…”

 

The golden-blonde's brows furrowed and he pulled Merlin ever closer, snuggling his body tightly into his servant's as Merlin continued to make those delicious, enticing little sounds. The two moved in a sweet tandem, their pace easier than last night's, but just as desperate in their hurry to relieve themselves, to soak up as much of each other's attentions as they could before the day had to begin. “Merlin…” Arthur quietly gasped again. “I love you.”

 

The dark-haired boy was shivering against him, gasping quietly for breath; his stamina was not as good, and his member began to throb, painfully hard, that now-familiar ache grabbing at his loins. He was rather surprised he could feel so passionate, so desperate, even after the tiresome events of their previous lovemaking. “We don't have much time.” Arthur murmured, reminding himself as well as Merlin not to let it get too far, though his body was grinding just as hungrily against his servant as his servant was. Pre-cum glimmered at the tip of his dampening member, gathered along Merlin's, and his hands brushed those slits, smeared the dew across them while his pace increased. Merlin gave a soft cry, and struggled to pull away; Arthur paused, a concerned expression tugging at his forehead and golden brow, pulling down the corners of his lips. He paused and released their aching members, and was surprised to see Merlin sink to his knees with a quiet whimper, panting and gasping and fighting rigidly for control over his own body.

 

“Let me…” Merlin breathed, gently grasping Arthur's member in his hands, feeling it pulse and throb between his delicate hands. Arthur was about to protest before Merlin's warm and wet mouth slipped along his sensitive head, suckling at the sensitive flesh, and so Arthur tilted his head back and groaned quietly instead. He found himself tangling his fingers in Merlin's raven-dark hair, urging the boy on. Slight guilt twisted his stomach as Merlin ignored his own raging desire to please him, but he appeased the feeling by noting to himself that Merlin deserved some sort of compensation later. Not to mention, whatever the boy was doing with his tongue was just too damn good for him to even bother thinking right now. His toned, naked body gave a compulsive shudder.

 

He felt Merlin's hands stroking at the base of his member, a delicate set of digits slipping downwards to stroke and cup his velvety sac. The servant was dipping his head a little more now, taking a greater portion of the prince's member between his lips, hollowing his cheeks and sucking him eagerly, passionately, adoringly. Arthur had to clench his jaw to avoid crying out; he didn't trust himself not to scream Merlin's name loudly to the entire castle. The prince sucked in a breath, his usually perfect composition cracking as he pressed his brows together and glanced downward, watched Merlin's head sliding up and down, pressing deeply against the manhood until he took most of Arthur between his taught lips, his nose brushing the soft crown of dark-golden nether hair. Arthur's responsive groan was strangled as his eyes stayed fixed on the boy. It wasn't enough for a prince anymore; Arthur felt like a king as Merlin's bright eyes flickered upwards at him, hungry, smoldering, passionately in love. He could feel his own expression mirroring that thought and his fingers raked through Merlin's hair, stroking through the dark strands, gazing down at his lover while Merlin closed his eyes and bobbed his head in a steady rhythm. Arthur's lips parted and he unclenched his jaw with a strained hiss.

 

The servant gently smoothed his fingers along Arthur's inner thighs, stroked up one muscled leg to cup and squeeze the firm roundness of his rear, as his other hand stroked and cupped the soft sac just beneath. Arthur's answering growl was enough encouragement; Merlin's pace increased and his soft fingers dug gently into the prince's flesh. Arthur felt Merlin's mouth release his member as it was instead replaced by a warm hand; he groaned when Merlin's tongue lapped, wet and hot, at his dripping slit. Merlin's breath was cool against his manhood; Arthur gave a shiver as the boy murmured to him, “You taste wonderful…” His head fell back when Merlin grasped his length and pumped it, hard and fast, pausing only to lick up and down the stiff underside; his swollen manhood gave an eager twitch in his lover's palm. “Arthur…” Merlin purred; Arthur's breath hitched when Merlin used that breathy tone; it pulled at his chest and made his heart flutter delightedly.

 

The prince tightened his grip in Merlin's hair, encouraging with soft squeezes and tugs, to which Merlin responded with a long stream of inaudible, murmuring words and moans. “Merlin…” Arthur grunted, quivering softly while the boy licked up his thigh, hand pumping him smoothly up and down. He could feel teeth, soft and gentle along the delicate flesh, kisses to the smooth, velvety sac, long, wet licks to his swollen-red and aching member.

 

Arthur gasped in surprise when Merlin's lips closed over his scrotum, suckling and licking deliciously, the boy's bright eyes closed, his thick, dark lashes curving down against his pale cheek. The prince could feel his knees tremble a little as Merlin gave him this little gift, pressed his lips to his lover's most intimate areas, prizing them, caring for him. “Uhn, GOD, Merliiin…” He hissed, cradling his lover's head to his hips, combing his long fingers through the dark strands. Merlin whimpered and licked his inner thigh, leaning his head forward, nestling it between the prince's legs, licking as close to that little hidden entrance between the firm globes of his rump as he could. Arthur's groan was strangled, stifled as he clenched his jaw tightly, the muscle in his cheek giving an erratic twitch. Merlin's tongue was hot and wet and so fluidly muscular, pressing along his inner thighs, his scrotum, his rump, leaving slick trails open to the cool air that burned at his flesh. The servant was twisting his wrist, his hand pumping, clenched tight, long fingers wrapped around Arthur's manhood; they were slick with saliva and pre-cum, making it that much easier for Merlin, that much more enjoyable for Arthur.

 

Merlin was a surprisingly fast learner, Arthur discovered, as his tongue traced patterns over his flesh, paused to take the soft-swollen head of his engorged member between his lips, tongue darting across the tip and licking up the excess fluids before he stopped again to tenderly kiss the soft expanse of the prince's inner thigh; his hand, surprisingly soft and smooth for a servant-boy, shifted between pressures and sensations, building Arthur up before bringing him back down. It was an abbreviated echo of last night, a reiteration of their passions and lovemaking; something in Merlin's every move spoke of possession, of soul-mates and destiny and fate, of giving up one's heart, soul… everything. He could feel that in the flick of Merlin's wrist, in the loving press of lips on flesh, skin on skin. It was an unspoken part of Merlin's tender silence.

 

The prince longed to lean down, to meet his lover in a passionate embrace, to whisper to him all the things he was just now beginning to feel and experience, to share his very being with this servant-boy; his instincts warred with his intelligence. He knew that it wouldn't be long until he was supposed to be up and dressed and alert and ready for the day, for his princely duties, his responsibilities, his people; and, so, he murmured a soft affirmation to his servant and then tilted his head back and allowed Merlin to pleasure him, to fulfill and curb his cravings.

 

Merlin's hands palmed and stroked the prince's body, one hand holding and pumping the thick base of his throbbing member while his lips again took hold of the rose-pink head; Merlin's breath came out in a soft huff as he pressed his mouth further down, swallowed Arthur before coming up for a quick gasp of air, bobbed his head in a steady, quick rhythm. Groaning, shuddering, Arthur gently rocked his hips into that velvety-soft fiery wetness, gritting his teeth to strangle that desperate cry that bubbled up along his throat. Merlin was utilizing all the techniques Arthur had drawn on him the night before - again shocking Arthur with his propensity to learn so quickly - and dragging him quickly up to that edge, satiating his desires in an absolutely, frustratingly unfulfilling manner.

 

“M-Merlin…” Arthur growled in a choked, raspy voice; his toned figure was tightening, aching, pulling, dragging him so closely to that brink, that point where his body would no longer heed his wants and he would release, find that blissful relief with his lover's help. He let out a muffled cry and his fingers fisted, grabbed Merlin's hair roughly, unthinkingly, instinctively, encouraging the boy. Merlin tightened his lips and let out a lusty, murmuring moan - the sound vibrated along Arthur's swollen, throbbing manhood - and Arthur gave a shudder and a low gasp. The prince trembled violently and his hips gave a few hard jerks - he was so close to that point, so close to the moment of bliss where all he could feel was the steady, jolting spurts of pleasure, the spreading heat between his thighs, the heated tightness along his body... he could absently register Merlin's pleased moan as Arthur groaned with those last quivering thrusts into his lips, into that hot cavern that was spread so perfectly, awaiting him, inviting him. Arthur could already feel that peak; it was tangible, touchable, just at the very edge of his fingertips and he jerked his hips, cried out in a strangled, low tone, grabbed Merlin's hair as the boy tilted his head back, beautifully pale throat exposed and opened, preparing himself for his lover's release…

 

And then a knock sounded on the door. Merlin froze, stock-still, and pulled his lips away - his eyes fled to Arthur's, horrified and frightened - and in a moment of cleverness, Merlin wrapped his index finger and thumb around the bottom of Arthur's throbbing, twitching manhood, reined him in enough to alert him to the situation at hand. The servant was silent, waiting in terrified silence for his lover's response. Arthur took a deep, shuddering breath; his body was trembling, quivering desperately, mere seconds from orgasm. Another thrust, just the smallest bit of friction and he wouldn't be able to control his own body.

 

“I'm - dressing…” Arthur gasped out, his brows furrowed in abstract concentration as he tried to keep his voice as even as possible; the sound was a little breathless, a little strangled, a bit more husky than usual. There was a pause, and then…

 

“M'lord, I brought some fresh linens and towels. May I bring them in?” Called out a slightly-familiar voice; one of the household servants. Arthur glanced down at Merlin, biting back a groan as the boy eyed him anxiously and then mouthed slowly at his member, fingers tightening.

 

“Just be quick.” Arthur responded in a bored tone. He controlled his voice very carefully, kept his shaking body in check as he heard the click of his door and the soft pad of footsteps along his stone floor. The prince began to fumble with the nearest article of clothing that he could find atop the screen, attempting to appear as though in the midst of changing. Every second waiting for the servant was excruciating as Merlin kept him on that brink, lightly running his lips along his pulsing length, fingers tightly restraining the base. He listened closely and heard the soft sound of the cloth being laid carefully on the table, the rustling of the servant as they gave an instinctive incline in the direction of the screen and hurried out.

 

“My lord.” Was the last thing they heard before the door clicked again and they were left in silence; they could distantly hear the patter of the servant's footsteps going back down the hall.

 

“Merlin!” Arthur groaned when the sound had faded, looking down at the boy desperately. “Please.” He trembled, eyes wildly desperate, anxious, needy. Merlin, loose with relief, pressed his lips tightly together around Arthur's member, and his fingers released the base of his manhood; Arthur shuddered and his head arched back in a strangled, choking cry - muffled just enough - while his body gave a shudder and his member swelled with his release, squirting hot spurts of his sweet juices into Merlin's mouth, directly down his throat, which tightened as Merlin swallowed reflexively. Watching his servant through slitted, hazy eyes, Arthur could see the movement of that little defined bump along his neck, the prominence jumping up and down with each swallow. Merlin caressed the back of Arthur's thighs and gave his rump a soft squeeze as Arthur groaned and jerked, panting shakily. As he stood there before his kneeling servant, Arthur's chest rumbled with rough, pleased grunts that matched the steady pulse of his member as he released; Merlin dutifully drank the entire load, and continued to suckle Arthur, as though hopeful there would be more while the last few squirts trickled down his throat, the supply dwindling to several final drips. Arthur's head tilted back again and he unsteadily ran his fingers through Merlin's now-mussed mop of dark hair, thanking him in this silent manner. Merlin purred contentedly, giving one last suck before he allowed his lover's spent and limp member to slip from his mouth with a soft, wet pop. He licked his lips and carefully bathed Arthur's soft sac with his tongue, cleaning a few stray drips from the silky flesh.

 

They parted; Arthur shivered and then tugged at Merlin's hands, bringing him up to standing, fixing the clasp on his pants and tugging them up firmly into position, and then he embraced the boy. “You're…amazing, Merlin.” Arthur murmured breathily into his ear; his breath was hot and strong against Merlin's neck. The servant sighed happily and pressed himself into Arthur's strong, proud frame; the prince held him there and stroked the back of his head softly, pressing tender kisses into the tangle of hair. The two shifted and Arthur chuckled; he could feel Merlin's stiff member jutting against the soft flesh of his belly. “Be ready to take care of that later, tonight.”

 

Merlin's cheeks flushed and his ears reddened. “You need to get dressed.” He responded, smiling slyly at the promise of more to come.

 

Arthur gave a soft groan and heaved a sigh. “I suppose I do.” He leaned in to kiss Merlin fully on the lips, and then gave his member an enticing stroke with a brush of his hand against Merlin's hips; the boy squirmed and groaned softly while Arthur smirked and turned to the screen, picking out his shirt and tugging it on. He left the tie undone - Merlin would attend to that - and found his trousers. Merlin helped him step into them, being needlessly useful; the lovers utilized any second they had to touch each other - a brush of the cheek, a stroke down the chest, a bump of thigh on thigh. Merlin grabbed Arthur's brown pants and held them out so that Arthur could put them on; when he did, the servant grinned and did the fastenings.

 

Arthur stood there, allowing Merlin to finish dressing him, while his eyes stayed trained on his lover's face. He examined the bright blue eyes. There was something in them that was so attractive - that hidden spark of keen intelligence and cleverness, the lively gleam and sparkle as they gazed at their work, the beautiful sheen and color of them… his lips pulled into a grin while Merlin looked up at him, his nimble fingers finding the laces on Arthur's shirt and tying them loosely into place, just the way Arthur preferred. Merlin leaned forward after he made short work of the lacing, and his lips found Arthur's; he wrapped a smooth hand into the honey-gold hair. Arthur crushed the sorcerer to his chest and kissed him back, passionately, their bodies melding and wrapping around the other, that fire dancing in his eyes until they broke the kiss.

 

Merlin entwined their hands and led the prince to his bed, handing him a bundled pair of clean, dark socks that he picked out from his jacket. Arthur chuckled, wrapped both hands around Merlin's upper neck and pressed his fingers into the dark hair; the servant gave a soft huff as Arthur sat, pulling him into his warm lap, stroking the coal-black strands. They continued their heated kiss; soft, full lips against demanding, warm ones. Unashamedly, Arthur gazed into Merlin's eyes; the boy found himself captivated - a bird in the enchanting stare of a snake - and he looked back into the clear, blue eyes, wrapped in his lover's arms. When the kiss parted, slowly, sweetly, Arthur nuzzled his face into Merlin's neck and sighed. “I need to finish getting ready.”

 

The servant slipped out of his lap and strode over to the table modestly; Arthur tugged on his socks, an impatient air about him, and reached for his boots, slipping into the warm, thick leather and hiking the leg of the boot up until it fell properly over his pant leg. He glanced up to see Merlin organizing the food, putting the goblet on the table, pouring him a glass of pumpkin juice; when the servant caught him watching, he gave a crooked grin and pulled out the chair for him, his hand lightly brushing across the cream fur that draped along the back.

 

Arthur followed the invitation and took his seat; Merlin pushed in his chair a bit and then perched on the edge of the table, watching intently as Arthur picked out a few grapes and popped them into his mouth. His jaw paused when he noticed Merlin's observant stare, and he stared back before swallowing his mouthful to speak. “That is uncomfortable.” He stated dryly; Merlin blushed and glanced away.

 

“Sorry, I was…” His sentence trailed off while Merlin observed the bright morning sky, and Arthur returned to his breakfast, picking up a chicken thigh. As his teeth dug into the tender flesh, he quietly observed Merlin; his eyes roamed over the slender curves of his pale body, the way his scarf was wrapped tightly, protecting his neck from prying eyes, the way the fabric draped over his form, the full curves of his pouty lips, the slender dip of his chin, the arch of his brow and the keen gaze below it… he licked his lips absently while putting down his food.

 

Silently, Arthur reached to the platter and picked out a ripe strawberry; he murmured Merlin's name and his lover looked at him, startled, as if distracted suddenly from a thought. “Come here.”

 

While a heated blush spread across Merlin's high cheekbones, he slipped off the edge of the table and stepped over to Arthur; the prince pulled him into his lap and took half of the strawberry between his lips, tilting his head forward to Merlin invitingly. The boy made a gentle, surprised sound before Arthur sighed quietly and pressed the other half of the strawberry to Merlin's lips. The youth accepted it, parting his rosy, swollen lips, and they kissed, sweetly, tasting the strawberry, taking a hold of it in their teeth. Merlin bit off his end and then pulled away, chewing, his mouth pulling up in a crooked grin; he could taste and smell Arthur's signature cinnamon-vanilla spice lingering on his tongue, sweet and burning. The sensation went straight to his body like a shot of adrenaline to the bloodstream - his heart began racing wildly, pupils dilating just a bit, lips parted and swollen. He ached again with that familiar craving, but he pressed away the sensation and concentrated on clearing his mind (a task not easily done when Arthur was giving him THAT look, eyes so lusty and daunting and coy, lips pulling into an arrogant smirk).

 

Arthur was watching him keenly; the look in his eyes became predatory as he started to map out his plan for tonight. But first… alas… but first came his duties to the kingdom and to his father.

 

As if cued to Arthur's thoughts, a second knock sounded on the door; Merlin jumped and scrambled off Arthur's lap, taking a few paces to fake nonchalant servant-awareness while leaning against the wall. The change that came over Arthur was blindingly noticeable; his shoulders pulled back and his spine straightened, while his facial expressions changed completely from the relaxed, loving Arthur of a few moments ago. The twinkling playfulness in the depths of his eyes fled, morphed into a restricted coldness; his lips pulled down in a businesslike manner and he looked - glared would be more appropriate, Merlin thought to himself - at the door. “Come in.” His voice was terse, clipped.

 

The door opened and there stood Gwen, looking modestly shy as she peeked in. “Um, Arthur, the lady would like to speak to you later today, when you have time…” She addressed the prince with a smile as he crossed his ankle over his knee and nodded, picking at another grape.

 

“Thank you. Tell her I'll stop by after my training today. Did she mention why she requests me?” Arthur replied, his tone even, but his eyebrows raising; he settled slightly into the chair, relaxing in the maidservant's presence. Gwen shook her head.

 

“Again, thank you.” He nodded to the maid, who gave a little curtsy, smiled at Merlin, and stepped back out, shutting the massive wooden door behind her. The patter of her shoes sounded down the hallway and Merlin glanced nervously at the impassive prince.

 

Seconds passed before Arthur seemed to melt a little; his jaw was tight with the stress of nearly being caught with his lover, but he seemed to take it all in stride and he stood, walking over to Merlin and pressing his lips to the servant's, softly, sweetly - a reminder. “I'll see you later tonight.” He murmured, raking his lips along the pale, exposed section of his neck; Merlin shuddered and gasped softly. They both knew what Arthur was referring to; they would not be able to interact as they wished, not until the day was over, when their daily duties were fulfilled. Arthur would assume his position as prince, as neutral and unobservant as he usually acted about Merlin; Merlin would merely be doing his duties, helping Gaius as well as Arthur throughout the day, running errands. They both felt the pain of separation, before they even parted; Merlin snuggled into Arthur's broad chest, his very soul humming for the prince, craving his attention, his love, his presence. Their bodies pressed together briefly, a final hug, a final touch before Arthur led the way out of his room; Merlin followed shortly after, having grabbed the leftovers from breakfast.

 

He padded down to the kitchen to return the still-full platter, goblet, and jug; no one batted as much as an eye, due both to the bustling busyness of the kitchens as well as the fact that the members of the royal household often ate only a portion of their grand meals. Having accomplished this, he sloped off in the direction of Gaius's quarters. His shoulders slumped at the thought of having to explain his absence the previous night, and his brow furrowed, heavy with thought while he pursed his lips to find an excuse. Certainly, he would need to admit sleeping elsewhere in the castle… Arthur's chambers were the only plausible explanation. He had been busy… working? No, Arthur surely would have sent him home. Merlin frowned at the floor with a look that suggested it had done him some great personal wrong. Perhaps, if he told Gaius he had been ordered to stay there to wake the prince early. That sounded semi-plausible to him. Or, maybe, Arthur had ordered him to do extra cleaning and he had just been so exhausted that he had fallen asleep… no, no, that was definitely worse.

 

It seemed only moments later he found himself at Gaius's door; he took a breath and unhooked the latch, stepping into the room and shutting the wooden door quietly behind him. Gaius was indeed there, bent over his worktable, concocting a potion of some sort that seemed to involve him pouring various liquids together into a small, heated beaker. He turned at Merlin's approach after hearing the small click of the door and the sound of the wood shaking in its hinge after being carefully shut. “Ah, Merlin, where have you been?” The physician inquired curiously, keeping a close eye on his work while his head remained cocked towards the boy.

 

“I, uh, had to…do…some extra work for Arthur, and then he had me stay in his chambers to wake him early…” Merlin fumbled for an excuse.

 

Gaius raised a wizened brow. “Certainly he could have asked another servant? I was quite concerned when you didn't come home last night.” He nodded towards the dried remains of a candle, long burnt out, dripped down to the very last moments of its life. “I fell asleep waiting up for you.” The old man's lips curved downward into a very disapproving frown, and he crossed his arms, glancing at the potion before giving Merlin his full attention.

 

“Yes, well… I guess he just trusts me more.” Merlin stated, looking at the potion to avoid meeting the man's eyes.

 

There were several moments of awkward silence where Gaius raised both brows and stood there staring at Merlin, waiting for him to meet his gaze. When Merlin finally did look back at his mentor, Gaius sighed and shook his head softly. “You and I both know you're a pathetic liar, Merlin.”

 

“Well, I'm sorry I didn't return last night. I'll be sure to tell you next time.” Merlin sighed, starting up to his room. “Is there anything you need me to do?”

 

“MERlin.” Gaius grumbled, emphasizing his name with an impatient bite to his tone.

 

Frustrated, Merlin turned on his heel and looked squarely at Gaius. “It's nothing. Just… something I have to figure out for myself.”

 

Gaius seemed to take his next words into careful consideration as he tended to his potion, pausing at intervals to speak to Merlin, intent. “I've seen the way you look at the prince. You're not difficult to read, Merlin.”

 

Merlin's chest clenched inward tightly, pressing down uncomfortably on his heart. “Am I?” He murmured softly in return, discreetly wiping his now-sweaty palms on his tunic.

 

“Merlin, if there's more to this than meets the eye… for both your sakes, you had better keep it secret, but I'd like to know if there's something there that I must protect, as well.”

 

The young warlock's brow wrinkled in confusion, and he cast a befuddled expression on Gaius. “Maybe you should just tell me what it is you mean.”

 

“Morgana came to me several nights ago. She had another dream concerning Arthur.” Gaius informed Merlin, stirring the potion absently, one eyebrow cocked.

 

Merlin's heart stuttered and he looked around the room, desperate not to hear what Gaius had to tell him. “And?”

 

“Stop me if I am wrong, but, as I fear her dreams are sometimes prophetic, despite how I try to curb this with sleeping draughts… she told me that in her dream, you and the young Pendragon, ah… realized each other's feelings. I understand you're close to Arthur, Merlin, but if you are trying to nurture something which cannot be, I must warn you against it.” Gaius tone was softly scolding, wary, anxious; laced with a dozen different emotions that had Merlin chasing his mind for answers.

 

Merlin sighed, and came to sit on the bench. After fumbling with the cloth of his tunic for a few moments, shoulders and back slumped, eyes in his lap, he nodded. “It's true, Gaius.” He took his lower lip into his mouth and nibbled at it, a habit of anxiety, while occasionally wiping the sweat from his palms as he smoothed and then rumpled the fabric between his fingers, again and again. His ears flushed as he heard Gaius sigh, followed by the tinkle of glass against glass, while Gaius set aside the potion, allowing it to cool and blowing out the flame. He slowly sat down next to Merlin; his breath came out in a soft huff as he lowered his aged frame to the bench, and set his hands on his legs.

 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Gaius murmured. His head was tilted softly to the side, not looking directly at Merlin, but his gaze was directed towards the boy.

 

“It was…” Merlin licked his lower lip, thoughtful, before continuing. “It was perfect, Gaius. It may sound wrong, but… he is my destiny. And, after last night, I cannot believe anything other than the fact that he and I were made for one another. I live for him, Gaius. It's the whole purpose of my powers, it's the reason fate brought me to Camelot. I have to be by his side.”

 

Gaius made a motion to speak, but Merlin interrupted him. “I know you're going to tell me that it's not necessary, that we shouldn't take this risk, but… Gaius…” Merlin's eyes sought his, pleading, desperate for him to understand. The old man met his gaze and saw the emotion there, something so powerful that it was shocking. “Gaius, I need this. He needs this. And, in time…” Merlin dipped his head. “His father will eventually succeed to him the throne, and when Arthur takes it… surely, this cannot be so wrong, then. He will bring magic to the land. And, perhaps, in time… the people could learn to accept this. Us.”

 

Merlin's eyes blazed with the intensity, the fierceness, the desperate belief that he saw, and Gaius nodded slowly, taking his time before he responded, allowing Merlin's words to sink in. “But until that time, Merlin, keep in mind this is infinitely more dangerous than your powers. If you two were to be discovered, it would be a disaster for Arthur, not just for yourself. Don't allow your emotions to cloud your judgment. And, remember, in time… when Arthur does take the crown, he will be expected to produce an heir, to continue his noble blood.”

 

The youth's head fell again, nodding gently. Gaius could see the desperate, devastated expression in his eyes, the unhappy curve to his lips; Merlin had clearly already thought of this. “That is true, Gaius. But he needn't, necessarily, marry her. And… nothing is impossible.”

 

There was silence for some moments as Gaius tried to interpret that. “What ever do you mean?”

 

Merlin shook his head mysteriously, his lips softly tugging upward to one side in a crooked grin. “Just trust me, Gaius. I know this is right. And we WILL be careful… besides…” He chuckled darkly. “I haven't been caught yet.” Merlin examined his palms, smiled at them.

 

Gaius clapped a gentle hand to Merlin's shoulder as the old man stood. “I trust you. Just, please…” His old, soft eyes sought Merlin's again. “Please.”

 

The message was just as easily left unsaid as said; Merlin understood. He nodded, and Gaius turned back to his work, to pour his potion into a small bottle, which he then lidded with a cork.

 

“Now, then,” Said Gaius. “Once you change your clothes, I need you to take this to Lady Carling. Her young son has been sick recently, she asked for this yesterday.” Blushing silently, Merlin fled to his room; he pulled out a clean assortment of clothes; fresh trousers, pants, a tunic. He tugged off his dirty clothing, threw them into the corner, and hurriedly dressed in his fresh attire. After giving a quick tug on his scarf to ensure it was tight, and tugging on his socks and boots, he took the steps to his bedroom two by two, grabbed the potion and threw on his jacket, and started out the door.

 

“Bye, Gaius!” He called as he shut the door behind him, leaving the old man to shake his head and turn to one of his many books.

 

Once out in the fresh, crisp air, Merlin inhaled softly and closed his eyes, padding off in the direction of the Lady's chambers. He was eager to accomplish his task and get down to the training field to watch Arthur practicing and training with his knights. Taking a turn a little too quickly, he found himself face-to-face with Gwen for the second time this morning. “Oh, hi, Gwen!” He smiled at her brightly.

 

Gwen giggled, and gave a little head tilt while she gave an answering smile. “Merlin! Where are you off to?”

 

“Oh, just delivering things for Gaius. I don't suppose…” He paused, his smile fading slightly. “Does Morgana tell you about her dreams?”

 

Gwen's brow furrowed at this odd question. “Well, yes, sometimes.” She fiddled with her fingernails, her gaze dropping to the ground. “I suppose you're curious about the last one she had, a few nights ago.” At Merlin's nod, she continued. “She did mention it involved you and Arthur, but she wouldn't tell me what… she just headed straight down to Gaius's.” The maidservant shrugged. “Anyhow, I'll let you get back to your duties.” She seemed eager to escape the rather awkward turn that the conversation would taken, and Merlin was eager to finish his errand, as it was. He nodded.

 

Merlin thanked her, his brow creased, and he headed off again; he could feel Gwen's eyes on the back of his head as she watched him go, with a concerned expression.

 

After delivering the small potion, the youth wandered off in search of Arthur. He found him, as usual, working diligently with his knights, practicing form. The prince's voice carried across the field. “One…two…three…four…five…six!” The men moved in unison, their swords striking at invisible opponents as they practiced striking at different angles, up right, up left, down right, down left. Footwork was precise, their legs spread evenly apart, backs straight, knees comfortably bent; Merlin smiled to himself as Arthur walked through the lines of men, fixing an arm here, a knee there, reminding them of techniques and calling out different commands.

 

Merlin found himself standing there beside the field, stock-still as he became entranced with the ripple of Arthur's shirt along his muscled back, the way he carried himself so carefully, the sparkle and gleam of his eyes, the little exposed regions of skin that were somehow so attractive. Arthur's hair was a bright gold in the rays of sun gleaming over the castle; the strands picked up by the wind shone ivory, fluffed and clean. Merlin crossed his arms, weight on one hip as he rested against a stone wall and smiled softly. How could it be so attractive when Arthur was training his men for combat, for war, for death? Something in the perfect sway of Arthur's trained body, the way his teeth grit together and the wrinkle of his brow, the determined flash of his eyes… it was beautiful and spectacular and handsome. He felt the twitch of his body, the steady pulse within him, and he turned away and took a few deep breaths.

 

“Merlin!” He recognized the voice, and saw Arthur staring at him until he turned. The prince waved him over, lazily. The servant dutifully trotted to his master and stood there, hands clasped as he waited for commands.

 

“Yes, sire?”

 

“Good that you're here. I need you to repair my shield, here, and while you're at it, clean my other boots.” The prince handed over the worn, crimson shield, encrusted with the Pendragon's emblem, the golden dragon. Merlin huffed and shifted his weight, slinging the heavy shield onto his back.

 

“Yes, sire.” He murmured again. Their eyes met and held for a brief instant; Merlin could see the momentary softening in those blue orbs before they became hard jewels again and Arthur turned away, continuing back to his men.

 

Merlin took the shield back to Gaius's chambers - the old man nodded at him when he came in - and went to his room to work on repairing it. Deciding to take a chance, he sat on his bed, the shield lying absently on the floor, and incanted a spell under his breath, his hand raised to the object; the shield was picked up into the air, and the hammer beside it began to bang and hammer out the dents and bruises, molding it back into its proper shape. As his magic worked, he sat and read, ears keenly pricked for the sound of anyone approaching. Merlin's lips pulled into a smile and he leaned back against the cool stone of his wall, the sound of soft banging and clinking in his ears.

 

It took a short time to finish hammering the shield, repairing it to the smooth semblance of the shield it had once been. Merlin chuckled to himself and grabbed a hold of his magic, gently putting down the objects on the floor and slipping off the worn covers of his bed to pick up the shield. He tucked away the hammer and grabbed his prize, slinging it over his back again, a grin pulling up the corners of his mouth.

 

He nodded and waved to Gaius on his way out again as he padded down his tiny, rickety staircase and back to Arthur's room; he dropped the shield off in the armory and grabbed cleaning supplies from the supply closet. Arms laden with his burden, Merlin hurried back to Arthur's quarters; perhaps if he finished quickly enough, he would have time to set Arthur a bath - though, thinking through that plan, he decided it might be best left until after dinner. Besides that, Arthur was going to have to meet Morgana after training. Merlin frowned to himself as he arrived at Arthur's door and pushed it open with his shoulder and a slight pressure of his magic on the handle; after glancing around and a few chosen words, he trotted into Arthur's vast chambers and shut the door again.

 

Arthur's boots were neatly lined up along the bottom of his cabinet; Merlin raised a brow after pulling a pair out and inspecting them. There was no work to be found; they were spotlessly clean, not a trace of mud or dirt or blood on them. His brow pressed downwards, furrowing in thought; he had cleaned all the boots recently, as it was. Arthur had simply given him a job that needn't be done - essentially, no job at all. Smiling at this silent dismissal, Merlin sat by the cabinet and organized clothing, making everything perfectly straight, exactly in place, color coordinated, as a way to pass the time. Once he had done that, he glanced around, and, finding little work to be done, he dropped the cleaning supplies by the door and went to sit on the edge of Arthur's bed.

 

Merlin's deep, sapphire eyes examined the sheets; he grinned slyly when he saw the faint traces of their love splattered across the coverlet. The grin swiftly disappeared when he remembered HE would be the one to clean it. Nevertheless, he enjoyed the memory of last night, and absently began to entertain ideas of tonight's activities. There was a painful twist to his gut as he thought of Arthur; it seemed even the slightest distances brought that separation emotion about. Merlin pressed his back to the post of the bed and softly grabbed the pillow closest to him; he hugged it and pressed his face into the tender fabric, inhaling the familiar sweet-spicy burn scent that was Arthur. Arthur's arms were around him, tenderly cradling the servant to his warm, broad chest, stroking his dark mane of hair, pressing his lips to the crown of his head, caressing his slender form…

 

The servant-boy shivered and hugged himself, arms clutching the pillow close. His untouched member gave a throb, pushing forcefully against his trousers, and Merlin closed his eyes tightly. Teeth sunk into the pillow and he groaned quietly, desperately, wantonly. He needed Arthur's love, Arthur's touch, Arthur's body… his thoughts trailed off and he found himself gasping for breath into the smooth fabric, hugging the pillow desperately to his chest, his back pressed against the pole of the four-poster bed.

 

Merlin sat there for some time, regaining his composure, breathing in Arthur's scent that lingered on the pillow. He glanced out the window to watch the city, the people and peasants below him. His heart swelled with the knowledge, the pure belief that he would see this sight daily until the day he died. The day Arthur died. He would always be by his prince's side - he would see him to the throne, and he would surely accompany him past that point. He felt his heart twist nervously at the notions and thoughts that ran through him, dirty cobwebs littering his mind, poisoning his ideals. Merlin shook his head and took in a breath. Arthur loved him, unconditionally and irrevocably. Nothing would change this. He had seen that promise in Arthur's eyes.

 

Slowly, slowly, Merlin came back to himself. He was absently gazing out the window, perched on the edge of Arthur's bed, clutching the pillow to his chest; he replaced the pillow in its proper place and slid off the bed, straightened the covers, tidied the mussed blankets.

 

The sun had well reached its crowning point in the sky; it shone down, hot and bright, on the residents of Camelot. In the training field, Arthur wiped his gloved hand across his forehead; sweat dampened his skin, made his bangs stick to his face and flattened his shirt to the back of his neck. He wore his regular polished chainmail and armor, and the weight was hideously uncomfortable under the heat of the day. He turned to gather his sword again, readying himself to face a new recruit. Of course, there was very little chance the noble-son would fare long against him, but he gathered his thoughts nonetheless, focused himself, steeled his body. He turned as the young man facing him stumbled forward; Arthur almost sighed in resignation and boredom. The recruit was young, obviously immature, unprepared for the strains of battle; Arthur sleekly padded forward and stopped, squaring his feet and shoulders, watching with the air of one too experienced to bother being anything other than wary and stock-still.

 

“As I am the most skilled swordsman in the land, your test is to stand against me for one minute. If you can manage such a feat, you will pass, and be accepted as a knight of Camelot. Your test will begin…NOW.” Arthur announced as his guard flipped the hourglass over. The man started forward, running; Arthur's eyes narrowed as he noticed the slightly incorrect angle of the sword, the badly practiced form and footwork. Stepping nimbly out of the way, Arthur pivoted and struck the man squarely on the back of the head with the butt of his sword; the youth collapsed to the ground. Only a few mere grains of sand had passed through the waist of the hourglass; it seemed the recruits were more embarrassingly inexperienced than usual. “Pity.” Arthur murmured as he nudged the recruit lightly with his toe, paused to swipe the flag from his belt, and then strode confidently away; his sheathed his sword and pressed his lips into an irritated expression.

 

The recruit was hitched up by his elbows and led away; Arthur turned back to his men. “Dismissed.” He ordered shortly; the knights bowed their heads and left in clumps to attend to their own business.

 

Arthur smiled to himself, deciding he was rather in the mood for a hunt of a different kind…

 

Merlin had shown himself out of Arthur's room, replaced the cleaning supplies, and wandered to relax on the stone steps of the palace. He kicked his slender, lengthy legs out, sprawled across the lower cream-stone steps, across to the side. Passerby paid him little attention, and he leaned back against the side wall. His glittering sapphire eyes slipped half-closed, lazy, inattentive. The youth crossed his arms and softly heaved a sigh; the noontime sun shone down on him, hot and bright. Below his drooping lids was a bright sort of shady relief, red and warm, and Merlin began to slip into a state of dreams in the comfort of the warm sun, like a sunbathing cat. He stretched out a bit more and laid his arm on the side wall of the stairs, resting his cheek upon his forearm and allowing his dark, curled lashes to flutter closed. In his dreams, Arthur was there. In his dreams, they were reliving the wonders of last night, exploring and learning each others bodies, stroking, touching, caressing, kissing, worshipping…

 

“Merlin…” The voice was just a breathy voice in his ear, whispering, caressing, loving… Merlin purred and leaned closer to his dream-Arthur, allowed the man to seduce him further. Arthur lips were at his ear, his cheek, brushing along the smooth, pale skin there, nibbling, licking, kissing his body, whispering little intimate promises, breathing his name. “Merlin.” Merlin mumbled the man's name; his dream-self called out, desperate for more, desperate for love, desperate for intimacy, for touching and loving and cradling and caressing. He needed that feeling of being whole again, of being connected to his other half, his love, his Arthur, his prince, his soul and being and body and everything. “Merlin… Merlin…MERLIN!”

 

The dark-haired boy felt a sharp smack to the side of his head and he jerked back into awareness; the prince was looking down at him, a slight grin on his lips, one perfect, smooth eyebrow cocked haughtily. Merlin's eyes wheeled around quickly, ensuring that he hadn't done anything wild or noticeable in his sleep; the passerbies were as unassuming and uncaring as usual. He took a breath. “Yes, sire?”

 

Arthur snorted. “I'd rather you don't take a nap on the steps of my palace. Come, Merlin.”

 

The servant-boy rolled his eyes at the notion of being addressed like a dog, but he climbed to his feet dutifully. Arthur began his way up the light-stone stairs, and Merlin followed. “Where are we going, sire?”

 

“To Morgana.” Arthur reminded him. The prince's shirt fluttered in the wind as they climbed the last step and Merlin hurried forward to open the door for Arthur; without missing a beat, the prince, ever-used to being waited on, stepped inside while Merlin followed after. They strode up the spiraling staircase and down the hall, passing a few maids along the way. The palace was bright and light in the sun's rays; Camelot, the crown jewel of the kingdom, the beauty and pride of Uther Pendragon and his royal blood.

 

Arthur stopped at Morgana's door and knocked briskly; Merlin observed him out of the corner of his eye. The prince looked content, calm, relaxed, composed, but his servant knew him better; below the surface there was a nervous energy. Gwen was quick to answer the door; she hung on the wooden frame slightly, smiling. “Sire.” She inclined her head gracefully and beamed at Merlin beside him, opening the door in a wordless beckon for them to enter into the lady's chambers.

 

Morgana was obviously expecting them; the air about her spoke this while she sat at her table, brushing her long, dark locks, watching them with her bright, cool eyes. “Morgana.” Arthur said as way of a greeting. She smiled at him, but the expression was strained, worried.

 

“Arthur.” She nodded towards the spare chair which Gwen had obviously inhabited before his arrival; Gwen had shut the door and come to stand next to Merlin, who ducked down and brought his long legs beneath him, sitting on the floor beside the prince's seat. “I…don't know quite how to start.”

 

Arthur shrugged, seemingly at ease; he crossed an ankle over one knee and wrapped his hands behind his head, leaning back into them. “Start from the beginning. Why did you want me here?”

 

Morgana raised her proud head, looking slightly to the side, thoughtful, careful. “I… how do I say it… I have this feeling, these things I've been noticing…” She nodded towards Merlin slightly. “You two have been very close recently.” It was a statement, not a question; Arthur nodded regardless. The king's ward sighed and looked Arthur straight in the eye, direct as ever. “I have a feeling that you are more than just a prince and his servant. Am I right?”

 

Arthur's pause was brief, but enough to show his hesitation. “Morgana?”

 

“I know what you two have done, how… intimate you are.”

 

Arthur began to speak again, but Morgana raised a hand; ever the gentleman, even with Morgana, Arthur fell silent. “Please, Arthur… just tell me straight out. I want to know if there's something there I need to help hide. I can be of use to you.” Her eyes were beseeching, understanding, but Arthur avoided her gaze.

 

Merlin resisted looking at Arthur; if the prince wanted to hide their relationship, even the slightest glance at him would be a dead giveaway of their guilt. He was shocked to see Arthur slowly entwine his fingers together and rest his chin on them, his head tilted down in acknowledgement. “Yes, Morgana. You're correct.” She looked not the least bit surprised, and nodded.

 

“I'm happy for you.” Arthur's head jerked up to look at her in surprise; she was smiling at the prince, kindly, her eyes sparkling. “You two are perfect together.” She explained.

 

“Morgana, you realize… NO ONE can know. No one at all. Risking my life is one thing, but… risking Merlin's…” Arthur's distress started to become transparent; he buried his forehead in his hands, raking his fingers through his honey-blonde hair. Merlin gazed at him, one dark brow furrowed in worry. He pressed his hand under Arthur's forehead, into his palm, and after a brief pause he felt the calloused fingers wrap around his. Arthur looked up again, looked at his lover, and Merlin smiled shyly and gave those fingers a gentle squeeze.

 

“No one will know.” Morgana reassured him. “It's our secret.” Gwen nodded her agreement, and Arthur looked at them both sternly in the eyes, assuring their promise. After he had gazed into both women's eyes for some time, looking for any flicker of doubt or lies, he nodded and then looked down at Merlin, who laid his head against the prince's leg and sighed quietly.

 

“Thank you.” Arthur breathed, to the room at whole. Merlin smiled at him and his bright silver-blue eyes glittered, sparkled in delight.

 

“When…did you…?” Gwen asked shyly, her question trailing off.

 

“Last night, actually.” Arthur chuckled. His usual cocky smirk began to twitch at the corners of his lips again, bringing him to some semblance of the normal overly-proud prince he was. Merlin blushed and buried his face in Arthur's leg; Arthur gave his hand a slight, reassuring squeeze and chuckled.

 

“Um, when I…came in this morning…” Gwen squeaked nervously. “Was I interrupting?”

 

Again, Arthur answered; he looked down at his lover and grinned slyly. “Not really.” Merlin's answering groan of exasperation was muffled. Gwen blushed and Morgana sighed.

 

“Arthur, you realize…” Morgana's soft, lilting voice rose again, and the prince's blonde head whipped up to look at her as she spoke. “This… you are going to be king, Arthur. You will need to sire a son after you take the throne.” Her light eyes were sad, but soft and true. She shifted in her chair, smoothed her violet-blue skirt across her lap. Arthur bowed his head again, giving a quiet sigh before he glanced upwards again and opened his mouth to respond.

 

Merlin's response was unexpected, and the three all looked at him. “It's ok.” His voice was soft, quiet, steady, and he gazed back at Arthur with a firm, reassuring expression; not happy, but free of despair. He was calm. “I know.” His cheek pressed against the side of Arthur's thigh, and the prince ran his fingers through the raven-dark strands of hair, lovingly, slowly. Merlin turned his head gently and pressed his pouty lips to the fabric there, his eyes flicking up at Arthur. Their gazes met, and the ward and her maid were quiet while the moment passed.

 

“Merlin…” Arthur whispered; his golden brow furrowed, and the servant tilted his head side to side, back and forth several times, his lips rubbing softly against his pant-leg.

 

“No, it's ok, Arthur.” They gazed at each other, and both knew that this conversation was for later. Arthur nodded.

 

The angelic-blonde prince looked back up at Morgana. “Thank you, for this. It's… rather nice. To have you knowing, I mean. Thank you for helping us.” The dark-haired girl inclined her head, a smile spreading across her dark-ruby lips, contrasting to her bright teeth. The expression was warm, maternal, comforting, and Arthur couldn't help but relax. “Well… I suppose Merlin and I had better be off. We don't want to be a bother to you…”

 

Morgana smiled slyly. “Or we to you.”

 

Gwen raised a slender hand to her lips, muffling her giggle, and Merlin's ears reddened as he began to flush a delicate pink. “Right…” Arthur muttered. “Come, Merlin.” He stood, stroking Merlin's palm with his thumb before releasing his hand and opening the door for them to leave. Merlin followed obediently, and Gwen shut it behind them softly, watching for a moment with wise, splendid eyes as they walked down the corridor together. They were perfect, fitting for one another. The prince and the peasant, servant and lord. Gwen smiled secretively and turned back to Morgana while the door clicked into place.

 

“So, M'lady…”