magog_83

Merlin goes home to Ealdor for two weeks and Arthur is not at all bothered by this. No really, he isn’t. Assumes kind of established relationship (as in, Arthur’s about to find out just how established it is).

This is a story I started a few months ago before real life got in the way and it got abandoned for a while. Anyway I decided to finally dust it off and finish it for my friend Rachael's birthday. It’s possibly a bit silly (or very silly) but hopefully not too OOC.

Now beta'd by vensre - huge thanks as always for her endless patience with my bizarre use of the comma and other grammatical misunderstandings :)

Forsaking All Others

It was Wednesday. Merlin was about to leave for Ealdor and Arthur was in a bad mood. As he was at pains to point out to anyone who would listen (which, thanks to said mood, was not a particularly large or enthusiastic group), these two facts were in no way related. If Merlin felt the sudden need to go haring off to Ealdor to see his mother and pick flowers, or commune with the trees, or whatever it was he was doing there, then that was of no interest to Arthur; he had (as he had told Merlin quite emphatically) plenty of things to keep him busy.

"I'll only be gone two weeks." Merlin watched Arthur pointedly reading the latest training report for a few moments with that slightly amused look that never failed to annoy Arthur, as if Merlin knew something he didn't. By this time Arthur had read the same short paragraph three times and really, there was no more to discover about Sir Gawain's latest knee injury, so he looked up.

"Merlin, we've had this conversation before. You may go for as long as you like. Perhaps I'll get a half decent manservant in your absence - they certainly couldn't be worse." He let his eyes linger on the pile of papers Merlin had neglected to tidy away the night before which were now teetering rather precariously by his elbow. Merlin grinned; as usual Arthur's attempt at cool detachment had no effect whatsoever on his manservant.

The dark-haired boy merely leant back in the chair and stretched, his grin becoming an affectionate smile as he eyed Arthur. "You're scowling."

"No I am not. Princes don't 'scowl' Merlin."

"Prats do though. They sulk too, apparently, although that might just be a rumour."

"I am not sul—" He broke off, annoyed at himself; Merlin's face was bright with suppressed laughter. "Aren't there some onions you're supposed to be hoeing in Ealdor or something?"

Merlin sighed (rather theatrically, Arthur thought) and got to his feet. "Alright alright, if you're so eager to get rid of me, I'm going. Onions wait for no man." He walked around the table towards Arthur, shrugging on his rough brown coat, and swept into creditable impression of a respectful bow. "Farewell Sire," Arthur rolled his eyes, "Don't do anything I wouldn't..."

"What? Like clean?"

"...and try not to miss me too much."

Arthur had just opened his mouth to say that he wouldn't miss Merlin at all thank you very much, when Merlin leaned down and pressed his lips against his, his hand sliding around his neck to ruffle the short hairs at the nape. Whatever impressive words Arthur had been intending to say were thus reduced to a muffled 'mmmmffff'. Merlin laughed against his mouth and kissed him again and Arthur was somewhat unnerved to discover his hands had reached up to cup Merlin's face entirely of their own accord. The kiss was just becoming interesting when Merlin pulled back, his face flushed and eyes bright. Abruptly Arthur remembered that he was annoyed with Merlin anyway and snatched his hands back. Now it was Merlin's turn to roll his eyes.

"Goodbye then, Your Highness. I'll bring you back an onion."

Before Arthur could even begin to reply to that ridiculous remark Merlin had gone, the door banging shut behind him; leaving Arthur wondering what had just happened. It was an irritatingly familiar feeling where Merlin was concerned. Arthur was used to being in charge. He was after all Crown Prince. He'd been raised to expect obedience and to lead men. Everyone had a place in the world and he had known from birth that his was at the top. Everyone knew this, but apparently they had neglected to tell Merlin. So Arthur had found himself saddled with the most disobedient, outspoken and thoroughly useless manservant in the whole of Albion and, even stranger, he had put up with it.

And then there was... this. His eyes slid sideways to the rumpled mess of sheets on the enormous bed dominating the room, the disorder further evidence that even when he was annoyed with Merlin he was not, it seemed, ever that annoyed. Staring at the evidence of his own complete lack of willpower Arthur wondered how it had got this complicated. He could remember when sex was just, well, sex. When it was a pretty maidservant and a quick tumble in some deserted alcove or workroom, or an experienced noblewoman and a discreet visit to her chambers. When it was thoughtless and easy and about lust and need - just another part of the game played at court and a perk of his noble status. More than anything it was uncomplicated, simple - a meeting of bodies before they went their separate ways.

He should have known that nothing with Merlin could ever be that straightforward. He should have suspected that just as Merlin had got under skin, had irritated and provoked and exasperated him from the very first day, so he would get under his skin in every other way if he let him. Not that he could entirely blame Merlin for this (and he'd really tried), this shift in their already unconventional relationship was as much his doing as Merlin's. He'd had a plan, a brilliant and foolproof plan, formulated after large amounts of wine which, he vaguely remembered, involved getting Merlin out of his system once and for all and then getting on with his life. Except that it seemed his manservant's complete inability to adhere to Arthur's expectations went beyond cleaning and punctuality. And so Arthur had found himself exchanging flattery and seduction for kicked shins and Merlin stealing all the bedclothes. It was annoying, to say the least. Not to mention inexplicable and entirely frustrating.

He scrunched up the report in his hand and threw it in the general direction of the fire. It bounced off and rolled on the floor - which was when Arthur remembered that he was now without a manservant to pick it up and was in danger of setting fire to the rug. He let out a long suffering sigh - only Merlin could be irritating when he wasn't even here - and crossed the room to retrieve it from where it was smouldering against the hearth. Dropping heavily back into his chair (the stack of papers on the table gave an alarming wobble) he contemplated the coming two weeks. For some bizarre and rather irritating reason Merlin seemed to be under the impression that he, Prince Arthur, was going to be sitting around pining for his manservant like some maiden in one of those interminable mawkish ballads his father's minstrels were forever murdering. In reality of course nothing could be further from the truth. Arthur had managed perfectly well before Merlin blundered into his life and rearranged all his belongings and, whatever Merlin might think, Arthur was unlikely to go into a permanent decline at being forced to endure two weeks of efficient service and having his bed all to himself. In fact the more he thought about it the more he thought this might be just what he needed. Things had been getting a little confusing with Merlin of late and with him gone Arthur could finally get some perspective on things, concentrate on his duties and train his knights. As a soft knock on the door heralded the arrival of Merlin's temporary replacement William, Arthur considered the even greater benefits of being attended competently every morning by someone he didn't have to push out of bed first.

All things considered, this visit was, he decided - as he watched William bow respectfully and begin quietly tidying - positively providential.

……………

By the following week Arthur was fairly certain his Knights were avoiding him. This was something of a puzzle to him because he'd rarely been as devoted to his duties as he had this past week. Not that he'd been neglecting his duties before of course, but now he had time to extend his usual morning training sessions by a few hours and fit a hunt into the afternoon as well. And really, it wasn't as if his Knights didn't need the practice - all the dark looks and muttering he'd had to put up with the past week was proof enough he'd let them get far too soft. Sir Owain had even had the effrontery to ask when Merlin was coming back. Arthur had reminded him, with what he hoped was a suitably freezing look, that if Merlin was here they would hardly be able to hunt as often or as successfully as they had been. When Sir Owain had seemed unable to respond to that at all, Arthur decided his point had been made.

And the hunting certainly was successful. He'd never realised just how much noise Merlin could make blundering through the undergrowth. The first hunt he had attempted without him, the day after he left, they'd brought back several deer, ten rabbits, three pheasants and four hares and the kitchen staff had all looked immensely pleased when he presented his spoils for that evening's dinner. The next time he brought back even more and, although the kitchen staff had looked a little surprised, they were still suitably impressed by his prowess. After the first six days however even Arthur had noticed that their smiles were beginning to look a little strained and then Morgana had announced that if she had to eat one more venison steak or rabbit pie she would likely stab Arthur with her fork. So Arthur had cut down the hunting to every other day and introduced tactical planning and drilling sessions in the intervening afternoons and evenings instead.

Which was roughly the time his Knights had begun to develop those sudden coughs and colds, not to mention all that dubious Personal Family Business that simply had to be attended to immediately.

His mood was not improved by the state of his chambers. It wasn't that William wasn't respectful and efficient. He was. Arthur's chambers were spotless. His meals were served on time and he hadn't had to hunt his manservant down once. It was just that, well, Arthur couldn't find anything anymore. It turned out that all this time, when Arthur thought Merlin was just throwing things into random cupboards, he was actually working to a highly individual system. Only it wasn't a system William was familiar with. William had some half baked notions of armour being kept separate from formal robes and books being kept on shelves (instead of under the bed where Arthur could reach them in the night). And as if all that wasn't trying enough his bed had become horribly uncomfortable. After two nights of tossing and turning he could only conclude his mattress had been changed (apparently to one filled with rocks). William had replaced the mattress twice now but to no avail. When he mentioned this at dinner the previous evening, hoping for some small bit of sympathy, Morgana had the audacity to smirk at him and ask him if his bed wasn't just cold - which was patently ridiculous considering he'd had William put at least two warming pans in it every evening that week.

So all in all it had not been the best week. And now Arthur was sitting in the Great Hall drinking on his own (his Knights seemed to have vanished from the castle completely) and feeling rather sorry for himself. It had been a horrible day. He'd got no sleep. Again. And he couldn't even escape his uncomfortable bed and go riding to pass the time because William had just finished sorting and rearranging his wardrobe and had stolen most of his clothing under the frankly questionable pretext of washing and repairing them. When he'd finally returned them (and did they smell of lavender?) Arthur had snatched them and promptly gone hunting. This had been as successful as ever but it was as if the kitchen staff couldn't even pretend to be pleased anymore. In fact he was fairly certain he'd seen several of them exchanging looks and heard someone mutter something about having to extend the pantry.

Sighing heavily he finished his goblet and immediately looked around for his servant to refill it - before remembering he had dismissed William for the rest of the day following the Lavender Incident. He was just contemplating the distance to the nearest wine jug when he noticed three maidservants walking towards him. He blinked and they resolved themselves into one slightly concerned-looking Guinevere.

"Your highness? Lady Morgana sent me to see if you needed anything?" His eyes slid past her shoulder to see Morgana sitting at the far table and looking at him with raised eyebrows. He looked back at Gwen, trying not so slump too obviously.

"Some wine please. I gave William the day off." Gwen looked a bit surprised at that but fetched a nearby jug and refilled his goblet, still frowning at him. Arthur ignored her in favour of draining the goblet and holding it out again. This time Gwen was a little slower to refill it.

"Sire? Are you sure you'd rather not retire?"

Coming from anyone else this would have seemed like insolence but Arthur just waved Gwen away. "No point." Gwen looked confused so Arthur elaborated, "Can't sleep anyway."

Whatever response Arthur had been expecting to that statement, it was not the one he got. At his words Gwen's whole face seemed to soften and she was suddenly looking at him with a world of understanding and sympathy. While Arthur was still trying, fuzzily, to work out what that was supposed to mean Gwen filled his goblet once more (although this time only halfway) and said, with a comforting smile, "I miss him too Sire." Her hand hovered for a moment somewhere near his arm as if she was about to touch him but then she seemed to think better of it and, with a curtsy, she left him.

As his brain dragged itself slowly through a number of unexpected and unwanted conclusions he saw Gwen return to Morgana's side and whisper something in her ear at which Morgana looked torn between sympathy and amusement and nodded as if Gwen's words had made perfect sense. It was at that point several things in Arthur's brain finally clicked into place and he was left with the truly horrible and humiliating conclusion that they thought he was pining. For Merlin of all people. Which of course he wasn't.

Unfortunately knowing this didn't make the sympathetic smiles and knowing looks any easier to bear. Nor did Arthur's dawning realisation, over the next day and a half, that perhaps Morgana and Gwen weren't the only ones who believed the Crown Prince was spending his evenings up on the battlements watching for his idiot manservant's return (he'd only been up there once and that was because he needed the fresh air). Suddenly the mutterings of his Knights and those encouraging smiles Gaius was forever giving him these days were beginning to make a lot more sense - and Arthur didn't like it at all. The very idea that the Crown Prince of Camelot - who, it had been proved on numerous occasions, could have anyone - was lying awake at night because his useless excuse for a servant had gone to visit his mother (thus reminding Arthur what a complete and utter girl Merlin was) was absurd. Ok, so he had introduced a few more training sessions over the last week. And those tactical planning sessions were new (but really, Arthur had to fill his evenings with something). And yes, he might have complained about his bed being uncomfortable and a little bit on the chilly side and possibly he might have mentioned to William that Merlin's way of doing things was far more to his liking and... Oh. God. He really did sound like he was pining for Merlin.

Clearly something had to be done.

It was thus on the Friday of the second week that Arthur formulated his Great Plan. Unlike his previous Merlin-related plan this plan absolutely could not fail and was (like all Arthur's plans) tactically brilliant. Indeed it was so blindingly simple and obvious that Arthur couldn't believe it had taken him so long to realise it. He blamed Merlin. Things always seemed to become so muddled when he was around.

As Arthur saw it, the problem was not so much that he had taken Merlin to his bed (although in hindsight that plan was not one of his finest), but that he had kept him there. Not that Arthur had really planned this at the time. After that first night he had just... stopped looking. Evidently this had been a mistake on his part, because he was now in the ridiculous position of having to prove to half the court that he was not besotted with an insubordinate peasant.

This was where his Plan came in.

It seemed he had gotten himself into this whole mess by falling into bed with Merlin, so he could certainly get out of it the same way. Only this time he would choose someone suitable. Someone who knew their place and knew the honour that he, Arthur, was bestowing upon them by taking them to his bed. And if the whole Court saw him favouring this person - then that was all to the good. His reputation would be saved and there would be no more sympathetic smiles or barbed comments every time he wished to organise a perfectly legitimate midnight hunt. When Merlin came back he would just have to, well, accept Arthur's decision, because Arthur absolutely did not have to explain himself to his manservant. At all.

It was another day before Arthur put his plan into action.

On the Saturday evening a feast was held in the Great Hall. Looking at the laden tables Arthur concluded that he had probably supplied all of the meat for the hundred or so guests from the previous day's hunt - a fact that only added to his determination to resolve this once and for all. He eyed the maidservants circulating through the hall, letting his gaze linger on the prettier ones. It didn't take him long to find what he was looking for. A pretty dark haired girl who blushed charmingly when she felt his eyes on her but did not look away. Another hour of discreet glances whilst Morgana tried to engage him in conversation and Arthur made his move, taking his leave of Morgana and weaving through the crowd as he caught the girl's eyes with a significant look. As she followed him from the hall Arthur was gratified to see several of his Knights watching him with raised eyebrows. This was working out better than he'd hoped and once out in the corridor he grabbed the girl's arm, ignoring a passing servant to pull her into an alcove as she giggled and pressed against him. Feeling almost heady with wine and the success of his really very brilliant plan Arthur smiled down at her, pulling her even closer towards him as he bent his head, pressing his lips against hers as her arm slipped round his waist and he realised...

...that he might as well be kissing Gaius.

Arthur pulled back and gazed down at the perfectly attractive and pliant maidservant in horror (not least because that last image was truly awful, and would probably scar him forever). This was not supposed to happen. Naturally Arthur had not been planning to fall in love with the girl but he had been expecting to enjoy it. Not to feel... Actually Arthur wasn't sure what he was feeling exactly but he knew he didn't like it.

"Is there something wrong Sire?" The girl was looking at him, she sounded breathless and a little anxious, a small frown marring her otherwise perfect face. Staring down at her Arthur opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to identify the strangely hollow feeling in his stomach (he knew he couldn't possibly still be hungry). Suddenly a door opened at the far end of the corridor and Arthur caught a glimpse of an orange dress before he leapt back as though he'd been burnt. Gwen stopped, her eyes going from the Prince to the flushed maidservant and back before she swept a rigid curtsy and stalked past and Arthur thought for one unsettling moment that he was actually feeling guilty. Which was just silly because it wasn't as if he was doing anything he should feel guilty about.

He looked back at the girl, who was now watching him a little strangely. "Nothing's wrong, I just remembered that I... I mean I have to..." He thought he should probably stop babbling. "I have to go. Somewhere." And he tried not to walk too quickly away down the corridor.

It seemed his plan required a little more thought.

Another hour (and a wineskin) later he'd worked it out. Clearly it was a gender thing (the horrifying Gaius image aside). After all Merlin was a man, and whilst Arthur had not hitherto had much of a preference about whether he bedded men or women it was obvious Merlin had somehow changed that (which was another thing to blame Merlin for). Satisfied that he had rescued his plan, and resolutely ignoring the yawning chasm that was his stomach, Arthur finally retired to his cold and lumpy bed (honestly, the warming pans barely took the edge off). Tomorrow, he knew, would be much better.

Only it wasn't. Of course in hindsight the stable boy was an obvious mistake. Attempting to tumble a slim, dark haired youth was inevitably going to make him think of certain people he'd rather not think about. As for the footman... Well he had had blue eyes and Merlin had blue eyes - so that had been doomed to failure from the start. Sir Alain was a little more problematic. He was handsome, charming and had made his interest in the Prince clear from the start. But he was rather tall. And Merlin was quite tall. So it was hardly surprising that Arthur had been forced to make his excuses after only a minute of (rather pedestrian) fumbling. The squire had been no better, nor the seamstress (he was just making sure) and by the time the elegant and beautiful Lady Eleanor had boldly propositioned him, for the second time in as many days, he found he couldn't even be bothered to try. When she came looking for him after practice that afternoon, he was forced to hide in a storeroom rather than face the utter humiliation of yet another failure.

It was, he thought, almost as if someone was trying to sabotage his plan. And he knew exactly who to blame. After all, he didn't know many sorcerers, and knew even fewer with a vested interest in making sure Arthur never had sex with anyone else ever again. This whole mortifying fortnight was, he knew, somehow Merlin's doing. Once Arthur realised this he felt a little better about the whole, awful, experience and a little more inclined to kill his manservant when he at last returned to Camelot.

It was Tuesday and in a matter of hours Merlin would be back and Arthur would make him lift this ridiculous spell or curse or whatever it was he'd done and things could finally get back to normal.

……………

The first sign Arthur had of Merlin's return was the large onion he noticed sitting in the middle of his table the next evening, shortly after he returned, cold and wet, from a late patrol. Arthur stared at it for a long moment, deciding that the strange feeling in his chest was almost certainly vengeful satisfaction. He swallowed. Yes, it was definitely vengeful satisfaction. He was still staring at his onion and slowly dripping mud all over his chamber floor when the door creaked open behind him and he knew, without turning, that it was Merlin.

"I brought you an onion." Merlin's voice was irritatingly cheerful and Arthur took a moment to get his feeling of vengeful satisfaction under control before he turned to see his manservant, leaning comfortably against Arthur's door and smiling at him in a way that Arthur thought very smug and annoying indeed. "Although I almost didn't know where to put it." He grinned. "I've never seen so many clean surfaces in your rooms before - who's been looking after you while I've been away?" Arthur seemed rooted to the spot, and Merlin frowned slightly. "Arthur?" When Arthur still didn't speak, he tried again, "What are—"

"You've put a spell on me!" Arthur spared a moment to regret the truly impressive speech he'd been working on in which he presented his case in a clear and rational fashion before Merlin crumbled in the face of his relentless logic and admitted this was all his fault. As it was Merlin looked unlikely to crack anytime soon and was now staring at Arthur with his mouth hanging open, clearly questioning the Prince's sanity.

"Um... What?"

"You," Arthur jabbed Merlin very forcefully in the chest, "have put a spell on me."

Rather gallingly, Merlin was looking at him with concern. "Arthur are you alright?"

"No, I am not! I can't find anything anymore, my Knights hate me, my mattress is infested with lumps and half the servants think I'm impotent—"

"They think you're what?"

"—and Lady Eleanor has propositioned me twice now—"

"Who is-"

"—but apparently I can't take her up on it, even if I wanted to, because I'm fated to see your ridiculous face the whole time - so I had to hide from a royal guest. In a storeroom." He glared at Merlin to make sure he understood the full seriousness of this. "And now I think she's taken up with Gawain instead," he finished in a rather less impressive and possibly more sulky tone.

Merlin blinked several times, before managing, "And this is my fault because...?"

Arthur gave him The Look he reserved especially for Merlin. "I am not an idiot Merlin," Merlin opened his mouth but then closed it again hastily when he saw Arthur's expression. "I know an enchantment when I see one. This is obviously your doing." He went back to jabbing Merlin in the chest. "You wanted to make sure I... that I..." For a moment he couldn't think of a word horrible enough, "moped around the castle until you came back." He stopped, waiting for Merlin's inevitable confession. But Merlin only batted his hand away (it had somehow ended up twisted up in his shirt) and pressed his lips together for a moment, the way he did sometimes when he thought Arthur was being especially dim and annoying.

"Arthur," his tone was exasperated. "I promise I have not enchanted you."

"Oh really? What do you call all this then?" Arthur waved his hand as if to encompass the Lumpy Bed of Insomnia, the piles of lavender scented clothes and scattered papers on the floor (where he had dropped them this morning in his quest for his riding gloves) and himself, still looming over Merlin in a somewhat menacing fashion (not that Merlin looked remotely threatened).

Merlin looked slowly all around the room and Arthur had a sudden suspicion that he might actually be laughing at him. "Arthur, are you sure you didn't just miss—"

"I can sleep with whoever I want." Arthur interrupted loudly, before Merlin could say whatever absurd and insubordinate thing he had been about to say.

This time he definitely saw Merlin's mouth quirk. "Of course you can" he said soothingly. Arthur nodded, glad that Merlin understood (although he thought he might have been a little more reluctant about the idea). "We both can." Merlin added cheerfully.

"I'm glad you…" Hang on. "What do you mean we both can?" He stared at Merlin. Surely Merlin wasn't suggesting that he had...? Not that people would exactly be queuing up to sleep with Merlin, obviously. He was all skin and bone and stupid ears. And anyway Merlin wouldn't... He stopped thinking abruptly, swallowing. "You haven't...?" He decided that sentence was too awful to finish.

Merlin looked at him for an agonizingly long moment, one eyebrow raised, before finally relenting. "Of course not." Arthur relaxed fractionally. "Well not yet anyway," He ignored Arthur's sputtering. "I mean it's not like Ealdor is the best place for that. I think I'd have more luck in the castle."

"You can't." Arthur was aiming for casual but if Merlin's expression was anything to go by he might have missed it by a wide margin.

"But if you do," Merlin pointed out, in a perfectly reasonable tone, "then surely I—"

"Well I haven't!" snapped Arthur, abandoning any attempt at nonchalance. "And if I haven't, you most certainly can't."

"Oh." said Merlin, managing to look amused and perhaps a little relieved all at the same time. "Ok then, I won't."

"Good!" said Arthur, and then frowned, feeling as though the whole conversation had got away from him somehow. "I'm..." He cleared his throat. "I'm glad that's clear."

"Perfectly." replied Merlin and yes, he was definitely laughing at him. Arthur glared at his manservant for a moment before becoming aware of just how wet and muddy he was (which he couldn't really blame on Merlin but really really wanted to). Tugging his cloak loose and throwing it aside he stumped over to the chair and threw himself down into it, resolutely ignoring Merlin in favour of struggling with his boots. He was wet and cold and tired to the bone and he was still angry with Merlin, he really was, and his stupid boot would not come off. He was just contemplating cutting the damn thing off with his dagger when he felt warm hands pushing his away and Merlin was suddenly kneeling in front of him, tugging his boot off in one practiced movement and reaching for the other.

There was something both familiar and strange about the act, because this was Merlin and they had done this a hundred times before, but for the past fourteen nights someone else had knelt there and done this and Arthur had never quite realised how strange that was until now. He let his eyes linger on Merlin's slighter form, on his small frown of concentration as he worked the muddy boot free. In the flickering candlelight his face was all shadows and angles, his dark blue shirt rumpled and grubby and his hair sticking up like it always was. Almost involuntarily Arthur reached out to smooth it back, a little hesitantly as if he had forgotten how to do it, and Merlin looked up, the amusement in his eyes softened to something warm and open. As Arthur tried to withdraw his hand Merlin caught it, linking their fingers together.

"I'm glad you haven't." His voice was quiet and Arthur wondered if this was another spell - because he was finding it hard to reconcile the Merlin that had lived in his head for the last two weeks with the one before him, radiating warmth and affection, fingers entwined with his like they belonged there. Arthur stared at their joined hands and thought of all the things he ought to be saying - about spells and reputations and Merlin's place - but in the end he didn't say any of them, and then Merlin was pulling him to his feet.

"You're freezing. Let’s get you dry and then I'll see if I can find you some food." Arthur allowed himself to be manhandled to a bath (which Merlin heated with a single glance), relaxing for what seemed like the first time in weeks as he washed and then dressed, emerging to find Merlin setting out bread, meat and ale on the table. For a while there was silence, broken only by the scrape of the plate and the crackle of the fire as Arthur ate and Merlin moved quietly about the room, collecting Arthur's wet and filthy clothing, a warm presence at Arthur's back. When all the food was gone and the ale had been drunk Arthur leaned back and felt wonderfully, impossibly, comfortable.

"I hope you're going to eat the onion too. I hoed it especially for you." Merlin's voice broke into his sleepy reverie and Arthur couldn't quite suppress the smile that threatened to break out. Warm and dry and full, it suddenly didn't seem so difficult to speak.

"I'm glad you're here Merlin," he said.

Merlin stopped and looked at him then and Arthur thought that perhaps that was what had been missing from all the people he had sought out in the shadowy corners of the castle, none of them had looked at him quite like that. Then Merlin smiled at him, a genuine, happy smile, and Arthur decided that kissing Merlin was more important at that moment than any analysis of how and why this had happened. His intention must have been obvious because he had barely stood and moved towards him before Merlin was there, throwing his arms around Arthur's neck and kissing him as though he had been wanting to do this from the moment he walked in. And perhaps he had. And perhaps Arthur had too because Merlin wasn't soft like the maid, or charming and rakish like Sir Alain, but he was Merlin and it seemed that was what Arthur had been needing all along. There was a thud and a clatter as Merlin's enthusiasm took them backwards into the table, knocking Arthur's plate to the floor. Merlin pulled back for just a second to survey the damage before Arthur caught his mouth again, swallowing his words, hands fisted in the rough wool of Merlin's shirt to tug him back in as Merlin made a soft contented sound and wound his arms even more tightly around Arthur.

A long, breathless moment later, Merlin broke away to look at him, hair stuck up once more, face flushed and eyes bright with something Arthur chose not to identify (because he, unlike Merlin, was not a girl). "I should really go away more often."

Arthur glared at him, remembering the last hideous two weeks and larders collapsing under the weight of his hunting prowess; remembering sleepless nights and pointless fumblings. "Shut up Merlin," he said and tugged him impatiently towards the bed.

……………

It was fully dark when Arthur found himself drifting off to sleep, the warm weight of Merlin draped across his body. He was still not entirely sure he wasn't under some sort of enchantment. His bed had become suspiciously warm and comfortable all of a sudden and for once he felt no need to shift restlessly into the early hours of the morning.

"You know," he said suddenly, his voice slurring with tiredness, "Half the castle will still think I was pining for you."

"Well that's just silly," Merlin replied sleepily, shifting himself more comfortably against Arthur's chest. "You'd never do that."

"Of course I wouldn't," Arthur said, managing to sound grumpy and drowsy at the same time (his bed really was amazingly comfortable). "But that doesn't stop them thinking it." He brushed his fingers through Merlin's hair, then realised what he was doing and stopped. "It's really very irritating."

"Don't worry," Merlin yawned and clumsily pressed a kiss somewhere near Arthur's chin. "I'll tell them you beat me."

But Arthur was already asleep.

THE END

And there it is, complete with my attempts at some Romantic Moments in the last section (just be grateful I didn’t attempt any porn!). Constructive criticism welcome as always. :)

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