Archive of Our Own ^beta

It was midday, which meant the sun was shining through the opening overhead, warming Merlin’s wings, bouncing off his scales, reminding him that life continued on outside of the cave.

He’d lost track of how many times the sun had followed its arc across the hole at the top of the cavern. It could have been several months, it could have been several years. All the while, Merlin had been trapped down here, chained to the floor, alone.

The cave was dark, damp, unappealing. The light from the sky above fell on the rough floor and the rocky walls, but there were no pleasant sights. It was all brown and craggy, mossy and wretched. It smelled of wet and musk. Sometimes the ceiling would drip down, even when it wasn’t raining, and the slow, steady sound of the leak was enough to drive anyone mad.

It was a horrible place, a place Merlin would never get used to, a place he hated more and more with each passing day.

Sometimes, the king’s people brought him food—livestock for him to burn and eat—but they never spoke to him. They barely looked at him. Sometimes Merlin didn’t even bother eating, instead fantasising of starving and wasting away, finally free in death.

Sometimes, the king himself brought others down to the cave to show Merlin off, to show off his conquest and his prisoner. Merlin would hear them talking about him, about how majestic he was, about how the king must have such power to bring down such a terrible foe. He never acknowledged them, choosing to stay curled up in the corner with his rocks.

Just the once, the king came by to visit Merlin by himself. He came all the way over to Merlin’s corner, coaxed him out of sleep, presented him with a trough that would catch rainwater. Then he mocked Merlin’s hoard of rocks, tightened the chains on his legs, and called him pitiful.

“Humans are pitiful,” Merlin had dared to speak.

The king had just looked pleased. “One day, you might be pleasantly surprised by humans.”

The only time Merlin had been surprised by humans was when they’d coordinated a sneak attack to capture him. He hadn’t thought them capable. He’d thought himself too big, too great to be brought down. He’d been wrong.

The sun moved across the sky, sparkling right in his eyes, and Merlin heaved a sigh and sat up. The light shone down on his rocks, making them gleam and glow and glint. They were beautiful in the daylight, all their secret colours laid bare, all their smooth surfaces on display.

Merlin could barely find it in himself to care. It was a pathetic collection. Before the cave, he’d had piles of swords and armour and platters and silver and gold, things that shone all on their own. The rocks, even in the sun, were still just rocks. Dull and dirty and worthless.

He made his way to the trough and drank. It hadn’t been raining much lately, and there was little water, but it was enough to make him feel more awake, alert.

He stretched out his wings, letting the sun hit them in all their glory, and considered flying up to the mouth of the cave. His chains were long enough to allow it, but they were dreadfully heavy and restricted where and how far he could go. The cavern wasn’t really big enough for him to fly as much as he wanted, anyway, especially at the top where it narrowed.

As he was thinking he might go back to sleep in a darker corner, Merlin heard someone coming along the underground entrance to the cave. There were voices, loud and shouting, and the sound of armour clanging.

He waited by his trough, wary.

“As soon as my father hears about this—”

“Yes.” That was the voice of the king. “I am looking forward to negotiating with him.”

“He will not negotiate.”

“Pity,” a woman’s voice said.

The people came into view—the dark-haired king, some of his soldiers, his long-haired magical companion, and a light-haired prisoner wrapped in chains. No one paid any attention to Merlin.

The soldiers forced the struggling man down into the cave where they chained him to the same spot that kept Merlin from leaving. His chain looked smaller, lighter, longer, but it was still a chain. The prisoner continued to shout, to fight against the chains on his feet, to try to escape. Merlin knew it was pointless and wished he would just quiet down.

The king’s companion—Merlin did not know her name, knew only that she possessed magic as she had been the one to bewitch his chains—came down into the cave and cast a spell over the man’s chains, ensuring they could not be broken. It was not the same spell she’d cast on Merlin’s chains, not nearly as strong as that, but it would do the job.

“You know this will mean war,” the prisoner said to the king.

The king smiled as he undid the chains on the man’s hands. “Should I kill you now, then, instead of this ransom business?”

The prisoner went quiet.

“I will send word to your father,” the king said as he moved back to the cave entrance. “If he does not agree to my terms, you can be the next meal for my friend here.” He gestured at Merlin. “If you can even last that long.”

The prisoner started screaming, struggling against his chains, shouting all sorts of nonsense and threats, but the king and his companion and the soldiers ignored him and left the cave.

The man stayed agitated, shrieking at the top of his small lungs for hours until his voice ran dry and hoarse.

Then he started examining the cave with fervour, inspecting every inch, every wall, every crack in the floor. He was looking for weaknesses, for a way to escape, but Merlin knew he would find none.

Merlin stayed by his trough, and the man gave him a wide berth, finally coming to an exhausted stop near where their chains were tethered. He fell to the floor, making a horrible noise.

He was crying.

Merlin sighed and lay down, curling up by the trough and trying to block out the sound. It was too sad, too hopeless, too vulnerable.

If he’d had any interest in eating humans, he would have breathed fire over the man right then and there.

“Oh, be quiet,” he finally muttered when the wailing increased.

That just seemed to spur the man on, because he started screaming again, yelling out more threats that the king would never hear.

He shouted himself hoarse—again—and that was finally it. The sun was setting, the cave was darkening, and the man gave up.

“Pitiful,” Merlin said. The man ignored him.

Leaving his trough, Merlin went back over to his rocks and lay on top of them, settling down for the night. The man stayed where he was, huddled in a lump on the floor, and Merlin fell asleep to the sound of him sniffing.

In the morning, Merlin woke to the sound of metal hitting rock. The other prisoner was taking off his amour, dropping it to the cave floor. He must have slept in it. Or maybe he hadn’t slept at all. Merlin had slept fine.

He sat up, stretching out his wings, and the noises from the man stopped. Merlin continued to ignore him. He went over to the trough for a few sips to wet his throat after his long sleep.

When he glanced over, the man was staring at him warily, like he thought Merlin might attack at any moment. Merlin bared his teeth, and then man took a few steps back. He leant down, pulling a dagger out of his boots.

It looked barely long enough to pierce Merlin’s scales. The most the man could do was maybe take out an eye, and Merlin could avoid that easily enough if he just kept his head high enough to be out of reach.

Merlin returned to his rocks, sitting on top of them and gazing up at the opening overhead. There were a few clouds, and the sky wasn’t as bright as it usually was. Maybe there would be rain.

The man edged over to the cave entrance and started up his shouting again, still levelling his dagger in Merlin’s direction.

Merlin sighed. He hoped whatever was going to happen to man would happen quick. Maybe his ransom would be paid, or maybe the king would kill him—Merlin didn’t care. He was already quite tired of listening to him trying to get the king’s attention. He didn’t understand how the man didn’t realise how futile it was, how deep underground they were, how his screams were falling on no one’s ears except Merlin’s.

Some birds flew overhead, cawing at each other, and Merlin sensed an opportunity. He grabbed hold of the cave wall, digging in his claws, and climbed up to the top.

The man stopped his yelling.

Merlin went to the very end of his chain, his head barely poking out of the opening, and spotted a flock of more birds heading his way. He waited, watching as they flew closer and closer and—

He breathed fire, straight up, and birds started squawking and diving out of the way. It was too late for some of them, though, and they fell, roasted, to the bottom of the cave.

Merlin swooped back down to the floor. The man was still by the entrance, watching with a look of horror on his face as Merlin collected his birds. There were a dozen or so, small but round, and he ate a few of them easily.

It had been a while since anyone had brought him livestock, and he had no way of knowing how long it would be until they brought him more, so he wanted to save some of the birds for the next day. He brought them over to his hoard of rocks, piling them nearby.

The rest of the day was uneventful. The man had several bouts of shouting to no avail, which Merlin ignored, and then the sun set and the moon came out, shining dimly into the cave.

The man sat in the darkness, his gaze still on Merlin. Merlin couldn’t help but feel a little offended. He wasn’t on display, and he’d done nothing to indicate he was a serious threat to the man. Couldn’t he just be left in peace?

He curled up on his rocks, facing away from the man, and went to sleep.

The next day, the man was still sitting in his spot, watching Merlin with a glazed look. He looked like he hadn’t slept or even moved.

Merlin went to the trough and drank his water. He stretched out his wings, shaking them out in the stale cave air. He took a walk around the cave, keeping an eye out for any rocks to add to his collection. He took a quick flight halfway up the cavern to feel some wind on his face.

Then he settled down on his rocks and ate some more of the birds from the day before. They weren’t exactly filling, but they were sustenance, and he couldn’t afford to be picky.

“If I give you one of these,” he said, feeling the man’s gaze still on him, “will you stop staring like that?”

The man said nothing.

Merlin sighed and tossed one bird in his direction before gobbling up the rest. He went to the trough to wash down the birds with some water, and then he settled by his rocks and contemplated going back to sleep for the afternoon.

He looked over to see the man plucking feathers off the burnt bird. He watched as the man used his dagger to cut small pieces of meat off the bone and eat them.

The man didn’t look exactly happy with the meal, but it wasn’t as if there was an alternative.

After he finished eating, the man stood and went over to the trough. He dipped his hands in, pooling water in his palms and sipping.

Merlin bristled. He should have objected. He should have told the man off, declared it his own trough, said that the water was for him only. He should have exerted his power, his right to this space, his clear dominance.

The man looked so miserable, though—weak, pale, not especially nourished from the food he’d just had. He needed the water, probably desperately if he was daring to move into Merlin’s space like this.

When he’d drunk a few handfuls, the man returned to his post near the entrance and sat down heavily, resting his head back against the cave wall. He looked at Merlin, and Merlin turned away, tucking his head under his wings, and went to sleep.

Merlin woke up some time later to a slightly dimmer cave. He was well-rested, somewhat sated from the birds, although he could have definitely eaten more if anything were available. He yawned as he sat up, looking at the sky and wishing it would rain. His wings could do with a bit of a wash.

Glancing around, he spotted the man still sitting in his spot, head hung as he slept. Then the man’s head jerked up, and he looked around in a panic. He took a few breaths, calmed himself down, and nodded off again. Then he woke up in another fit of alarm.

It was a strange cycle, and Merlin watched him go through it several more times. The man clearly needed to sleep, but he either didn’t want to sleep or perhaps simply couldn’t. There was something preventing him from staying unconscious. Perhaps he was having a nightmare.

Merlin went to his trough for some water, and his movement triggered something in the man. He stood, unsteady on his legs, and started his usual screaming.

There was something off about it this time, though. He didn’t sound as desperate as he usually did. His voice had no intonation. He was simply making noise.

“The king can’t hear you down here,” Merlin said, hoping that would get the man to stop.

“Cenred is no king,” the man said. “He is a coward.”

Merlin really hadn’t expected such a response. “And what makes him a coward?” he asked, unable to stop himself. No one had said something so casually to him in ages. Mostly what he got was silence from those who brought him food or derision from the king—Cenred, apparently. Merlin hadn’t even known his captor’s name. He hadn’t had anything like a conversation since the day Cenred had brought him down here.

The man ignored Merlin, choosing instead to go back to his toneless shouting.

“You really make this place a hundred times more miserable that it already was,” Merlin said.

The man yelled and yelled and yelled some more, pounding on the cavern walls with his weak human fists until he finally tired himself out and sank to the floor.

Hoping that would be the end, Merlin went back to his rocks and rearranged some of them. None were really better than any others, no positioning more pleasing than any other, but it was something to do to pass the time.

Then the man woke with a strangled noise. He stood, breathing hard, looking wildly around the cave.

“You need rest,” Merlin said. “You’ll drive yourself mad staying awake like this.”

“That’s what you want, isn’t it? For me to sleep so you can come over and burn me alive.”

Merlin had to laugh. “No,” he said. “That is not what I want. I do not eat humans.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“What reason do I have to lie? Surely if I’d wanted to eat you, I would have done so by now. All I’ve had to eat these past days were those scrawny birds.”

The man narrowed his eyes.

“Sleep,” Merlin said. “Or go mad. I don’t care either way. Just be quiet.”

“Excuse me for not giving up like you.”

Merlin seethed and went right over to where the man was standing, leaning down to look him level in the eye. “I have not given up.”

“Then why do you not kill whoever comes down here? Cenred was here just days ago, and you did nothing.”

“Killing the king would not set me free.”

“Surely a great beast like you could wrench that stake out of the ground if you really wanted.”

“Surely.” Merlin brought himself back to his full height, looking down at the man. “Your chains are not the only ones held by magic.”

“Are you not a creature of magic? Can you not break the spell on your chains?”

“Do you not think I would have done that by now if I could have? Do you think I enjoy living down here?”

“It certainly seems that way,” the man said.

Merlin went back over to his rocks and sat on top of them, facing away from the other prisoner. He shouldn’t have tried to engage with the man. He should have just let him be. Humans were nothing but trouble, nothing but arrogant fools, nothing but creatures of hate and malice. No matter how much Merlin missed having someone to talk to, this was not the man to scratch that itch.

He lay down, covering his head with his wings to block out the last of the day’s dying light, and went to sleep.

The next morning, Merlin woke up to the sensation of wetness falling on him, his wings, the top of his head, his scaly back. Every drop made a satisfying sound as they hit him, as they fell on the ground, as they filled up the trough.

It was raining, finally.

Merlin stood and stretched his wings, letting the gloriously cool water wash over him. He closed his eyes and basked in it for a moment. It was almost like being out in the world again.

Then he heard rain hitting metal, loudly bouncing off it, and he opened his eyes to see the man hiding under his armour, trying not to get wet. He looked so small, so miserable.

Merlin looked away. He peered up at the sky instead, opening his mouth and letting the rain quench his thirst.

“What is the point,” the man asked suddenly, his voice barely audible over the rain, “of being a creature of magic if you cannot cast a spell?”

Merlin wasn’t sure he understood the question. He also wasn’t sure if it was meant to be an insult. “I can breathe fire,” he said. “There is plenty of magic in that.”

“Your fire cannot break the chains.”

“No.”

Merlin looked back up at the sky for a long moment, and then, against his better judgement, he said, “Come here.”

The man ignored him.

“Come here,” he tried again.

“So you can roast me?”

“I already told you—I don’t eat humans.”

“Then why—”

“Because you’re getting soaked, and I’m sick of listening to the rain on that amour. So you can either come here under my wings, or you can sit there drowning, I don’t care.”

The man said nothing. For a long time, he simply sat under his armour, getting more and more wet, looking more and more pathetic.

He still looked like he hadn’t slept. His head kept nodding down and then jerking up again.

Merlin folded his wings back and watched the trough slowly fill up and then overflow. It was a heavy rain today. The moss on the cave walls would spread, attracting insects too small to be worth eating. Maybe the ground above would grow heavy with water and crumble into the cave, making the opening just that much larger.

Merlin didn’t know how much time passed, but eventually the man staggered to his feet, tossed the armour aside, and walked over to where Merlin was sitting. He said nothing, just stood there, arms crossed, looking up at the sky and letting the rain hit him full in the face.

“Stubborn fool,” Merlin said before extending his wings, shielding the man from the rain.

The man stood there for another long while, swaying slightly as he battled with his exhaustion. Finally, he sat down near Merlin’s haunches, head in his hands.

“Sleep,” Merlin said quietly.

The man shook his head, but then he was leaning back, leaning into Merlin, and his eyes were closed.

He didn’t jerk back awake, didn’t rouse himself with shouting, didn’t fight it. He simply slept, sheltered from the storm.

The man slept through the night, rousing only in the morning when Merlin shifted to fold his wings back after the rain stopped.

Merlin hadn’t really slept himself, worried he’d drop his wings or somehow injure the man if he drifted off. Instead, he’d stayed awake, listening to the rain, watching the droplets hit the water in the trough, sometimes looking at the man.

He was so small next to Merlin, so insignificant. Merlin knew he must be important, though, to be captured and held hostage for ransom. If he was expecting his father to negotiate with King Cenred, maybe he was the son of a rich nobleman, or maybe he was a great knight if the armour was anything to go by, or maybe he was even a prince.

He had a handsome enough face to be a prince. His hair was golden even in the wet and the dark. His nose was strong, his cheeks long, his lips wide. He had such a stoic expression—even while sleeping, his face was set, nearly frowning. He had blue eyes, at least as far as Merlin could tell in the dim cave. He had large muscles on his chest and arms and legs. They were especially noticeable through his damp clothes, but even before the rain his strength had been obvious. He carried himself well, even when he was exhausted.

When he finally woke, it was slow. He yawned and pressed himself back into Merlin’s side, as if Merlin were a comfortable bed rather than a great dragon. He licked his lips and murmured something to himself before, at last, opening his eyes.

He looked confused for a moment, as if maybe he didn’t remember falling asleep, and then he stood.

“My apologies,” he said, not meeting Merlin’s gaze. “I didn’t mean—”

“It’s all right,” Merlin said. “You needed rest.”

“Yes,” he said hesitantly. He licked his lips again. “May I have some of your water?”

“Of course.”

Merlin watched as the man went over to the trough and dunked his whole head in. He scrubbed his hands over his face as he straightened up, and that seemed to wake him more. He leant back down to sip at the water, rather like a horse, and Merlin found himself smiling.

“You do not have to ask permission for the water,” he said. “I am sorry if I gave you that impression.”

The man shrugged and ran his hands through his wet hair. “I don’t suppose you have any more of those birds on you?”

“No. I’ll keep an eye out.”

The man nodded and retreated to his usual spot on the other side of the cave. Merlin watched as he picked over his armour.

“This is going to rust,” he said, flinging a pauldron aside. He sat down against the wall and looked up at the sky, and Merlin wondered what he might be thinking about. Perhaps about his father, his life outside of the cave, his family and friends. Perhaps he was simply watching the clouds drift by, as Merlin so often did when there was nothing else to do to pass the time.

“PENDRAGON!” the king bellowed as he came into the cave.

The man scrambled to his feet. “Cenred.”

Cenred sneered. “I trust you are well.”

The man didn’t respond to that.

“I have not yet heard from your father. I sent him word five days ago. How long does it take a messenger to reach Camelot?”

The man didn’t respond to that, either.

“A day, day and a half at most, yes? Your father’s known where you are for days and hasn’t sent his army after you, hasn’t even sent word back that he’d like to negotiate. Tell me.” Cenred moved closer to the man. “Does he care about you at all?”

Merlin could see the man’s jaw clenched. He was breathing hard through his nose, refusing to look away from his captor, yet saying nothing.

Apparently satisfied with the man’s silence, Cenred gestured to someone out of sight down the entrance corridor, and in came several of his soldiers with not one, but two plump goats.

The animals were brought down into the cave, tied up to the stake that kept Merlin and the man in their place, and then the soldiers left. Cenred lingered, a smirk spreading across his face as he watched the man eyeing the goats.

“If I do not hear from your father soon, I will kill you myself. See if that gets his attention.”

He left, laughing.

As soon as he was out of earshot, the man dropped to his knees.

Merlin gave him a moment. He knew it must hurt to be abandoned by his father at such a time as this, if that was what was happening. For all anyone knew, the man’s father was readying to march on Cenred’s kingdom right then. Only time would tell.

“You’re a Pendragon,” Merlin said after he felt enough time has passed for the man to feel his feelings.

“Yes.”

“Your father is King Uther?”

“Yes.”

So, he was a prince after all. A prince from the worst royal family Merlin had ever heard of. Son of the wretched Uther, who slaughtered magic users for fun, who hunted creatures like Merlin, who hated anything and anyone to do with magic and had probably raised his son to hate it, too.

“What is your name?”

“Arthur.”

“Arthur. Move aside.”

Arthur looked around in time to see Merlin reach out and pluck one goat off the ground. He ripped the head off with his claws and laid its body on top of his hoard of rocks. He opened his mouth and breathed hard, fire rushing out of him and burning the goat’s meat.

He ate the goat quickly, and it was more filling than the birds but still not enough to make him full. He hadn’t felt full since he’d been down in this cave. The soldiers never brought enough food.

Except, this time, they’d brought two goats.

Merlin looked back at the other goat and saw Arthur stand near it, petting its head.

“You’re not making friends with it, are you?”

“No.”

Merlin eyed him. “The first thing you said to me was that Cenred is a coward. How did you mean?”

Arthur’s features hardened. “He’s using Morgause’s magic to rule, to exploit his citizens, to gain more power and more land.”

“And?”

“And—magic is evil,” Arthur said as if were a simple fact of life. “He has no merit of his own, and he’s resorted to magic to get his way. It won’t be stood for. I—” The goat pressed its head and horns into Arthur’s legs, and he moved away. “I was captured on a mission to kill him.”

“You were going to kill him because he’s employing magic.”

“He deserves nothing less.”

“And me?” Merlin asked. “I am a creature of magic. Do I deserve to die for the simple fact of what I am?”

“If you’d been captured in Camelot—well. My father would not be keeping you as a prize, I can tell you that much.”

“I see.”

So Arthur was just as bad as his father. He hated magic, magic users, magic creatures. The night before, when he’d finally let his guard down and fallen asleep in Merlin’s presence, was some sort of fluke. Arthur didn’t like Merlin, didn’t enjoy his company, didn’t trust him. He’d simply been too run-down to stay conscious any longer.

Merlin never should have bothered with the man. He should have just left Arthur to his shouting and minded his own business.

He sat himself on his rocks, which were still warm from roasting the goat, and curled up, facing away from Arthur. He closed his eyes and let himself drift off to thoughts of eating the remaining goat the next day.

It was clear in the morning that Arthur had not slept. His face was pale and sallow, his eyelids heavy and his movements slow. Misery and exhaustion were seeping out of him, making the cave feel even more unwelcoming than it already was.

Merlin drank from the trough and took a short flight, flapping his wings and enjoying the brief moment of movement. It wasn’t freedom, but it was the closest thing he had.

When he settled back on his rocks, Arthur came over to him.

“Will you burn my goat for me?” he asked.

“Why should I help you?”

Arthur’s brow creased. “What do you mean? Why shouldn’t you?”

“You clearly hate magic as much as your father. As a creature of magic, I feel no desire, no obligation to help you.”

“I am not my father,” Arthur said.

Merlin narrowed his gaze.

“I suppose you love magic, then. You embrace it wholeheartedly. You protect magic users. You revere magic creatures.”

“You speak as if magic is some great thing,” Arthur said.

“What else is it?”

“Vile and dishonourable.”

“Have you ever seen magic?” Merlin asked.

“I have no need. I am perfectly aware of what it does.”

“So, tell me, what does it do?”

Arthur huffed and went back to the wall near the entrance, apparently done with the conversation.

“You have no evidence that magic is so evil,” Merlin said.

“My mother died at the hands of magic, of a sorceress. She destroyed my family.” Arthur sat down, leaning against the wall and staring up at the sky.

Merlin watched as he fought not to fall asleep, his eyes closing every few seconds, his body jerking himself back awake each time. It was barely midday, and he was already struggling.

“I am sorry that your life was so affected by magic,” Merlin said when he could no longer stand the sight of Arthur grappling with sleep. “One foul act by a single sorceress does not mean all magic users are wicked.”

“I cannot condone magic,” Arthur said, his voice low.

Merlin wished he could make Arthur see the truth, but he knew it was no use. He’d been raised by Uther Pendragon. There was likely no hope for him.

“If I burn the goat, will you share it?” Merlin asked.

Arthur nodded.

Merlin plucked up the goat and placed it on his rocks where he breathed harsh fire over it, killing and roasting it.

Arthur got up with a grunt and came over with his dagger to begin eating.

Merlin watched, waiting for him to be full. Arthur took his time, skinning a few portions, choosing the best cuts, carving around bone. He ate sort of tidily and kept wiping off his dagger to keep it clean.

Finally, he took a step back and looked up at Merlin.

“Thank you,” he said.

Merlin scarfed down the rest of the goat quickly. He settled back on top of his rocks, and Arthur went to drink some water.

“I miss fresh air,” he said as he dipped his hands in the trough. He ran them over the back of his neck, getting his skin wet.

“Imagine being down for as long as I have with no access to fresh air.”

“You can climb to the top,” Arthur pointed out. “I’m stuck down here in the damp darkness.”

Merlin considered him. He was not an easy person to be trapped with, but that wasn’t his fault. And, really, at this point, any company was better than no company at all.

“If you climb on my back, I can take you to the top,” he said.

Arthur frowned. “Why on earth should I trust you?”

“Have I done something to suggest I’m untrustworthy?”

“You’re a—”

“Creature of magic, yes. Have I done something to you, specifically, to suggest I would hurt you in any way?”

Arthur stared at him for a long moment. “Are you certain?”

Merlin nodded. “It’s not as if I have anything better to do right now.” He lowered his head and neck, flattening himself to the ground as much as he could. Arthur stayed where he was. “Are you coming or not?” Merlin asked, annoyed. This wasn’t a comfortable position.

Arthur took a few hesitant steps forward. “Is it safe?” he asked.

“You’ll have to tell me.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you’d be the first human to ride on my back,” Merlin snapped. “Any other questions?”

Arthur rolled his eyes and came over, eyeing Merlin warily. “How do I… get on?”

“Am I supposed to know?”

Muttering under his breath, Arthur came up close and got his hands on Merlin’s neck. He patted around awkwardly before sighing and getting one leg over.

“I’m not a horse,” Merlin said as Arthur felt around for something to hold on to. “And you’ll need to be farther up.”

Arthur scooted forwards, lodging himself just behind Merlin’s head. He held one to one of Merlin’s spikes, and Merlin finally lifted his head off the cavern floor.

“Hold on,” he said before taking off.

Arthur grabbed on tight, his fingers digging uncomfortably into Merlin’s scales.

Merlin circled the top of the cave a few times, trying to keep his head as steady as possible so Arthur wouldn’t be flung off. The air up here was much cleaner, and he breathed it in easily.

“Can we go back down?” Arthur shouted.

“It’s barely been a minute.”

Arthur didn’t respond to that, just tightened his grip. Merlin took the hint and flew back down to the floor, landing as softly as he could manage. He lowered his head, and Arthur slid off the side of his neck and went over to the trough, his legs a little wobbly.

He took a sip and then rested his hands on the edge, his head hanging down, his chest heaving for breath. He looked remarkably unwell, and Merlin wondered if the fresh air had done more harm than good.

“Never thought I’d ride a dragon,” he finally said, his voice weak.

“Never thought I’d let you.”

Arthur’s shoulders shook with laughter. He straightened up. “Thank you,” he said. “I know you didn’t have to do that.”

“Did it help?” Merlin asked as he lay down on his rocks.

Arthur shrugged and came over, sitting next to him. “When I was younger, I used to dream about flying. I thought it would be the most wonderful thing in the world, to be a bird. All that freedom, all that sky to explore, with no responsibilities or expectations.”

“How does the real thing compare?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “That didn’t feel like freedom to me, though.”

“No,” Merlin agreed.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, with Merlin looking down at Arthur and Arthur looking up at the darkening sky.

“What’s it really like?” Arthur finally asked. “When you’re not down here, I mean.”

Merlin crossed his arms in front of him and rested his chin on top. This brought his gaze level with Arthur’s, although Arthur was still focused on the sky.

“It’s the most wonderful thing in the world,” Merlin said. “The air rushing against my face, the endless possibilities of where to go and what to do, the power in my wings to take me anywhere I please. It’s hard not to miss that.”

Arthur nodded. “Is there anything you don’t miss?”

“No. There’s nothing down here that’s better.”

“I don’t miss my father,” Arthur said. “I don’t miss never being able to choose what I get to do.”

“Do you enjoy all the options you have down here?”

Arthur lowered his gaze to glare at Merlin. “You know what I mean.”

“I don’t,” Merlin said. “I never had responsibilities or expectations. I was free as a bird, remember?”

Arthur sighed. He looked tired again, as if the rush of the flight was wearing off.

“This is the most free I’ve ever been,” he said.

“That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard,” Merlin said with a laugh. “You’re feeling very sorry for yourself.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “I’m just saying—it’s been nearly a week and I haven’t had a single person telling me what to do. I haven’t had a single meeting. I haven’t had a single argument with my father.”

“Do you want to stay here?”

“No,” Arthur said after a pause. “I don’t suppose I do.”

“Then you’d better hope your father negotiates soon.”

Arthur nodded, looking defeated. He shifted a little, turning to lean his back against Merlin’s side.

“What are these expectations you hate so much?” Merlin asked, not wanting to go to sleep just yet.

“To be perfect,” Arthur said quietly. His eyes were already closed. “To be just and fair and strong and righteous and brave. To rule an entire kingdom well. To marry. To produce heirs. To carry on the Pendragon line and raise another king to be just and fair and strong and righteous and brave.”

“That’s an awful lot for one so small.”

Arthur’s lips curved up in a smile. “I’m not small. You’re just big.”

“No bigger than any other dragon,” Merlin said.

“Are there other dragons?” Arthur asked, his voice barely there.

“Not after what your father did to them.”

“I’m sorry,” Arthur muttered, and then his jaw went slack as he fell asleep.

Merlin watched him in the moonlight, taking in the way his chest rose and fell with his breath and the way his fingers twitched with his dreams, until he fell asleep as well.

Arthur was still curled up against Merlin in the morning. He was warm, and so small, and Merlin didn’t want to wake him. He was breathing slowly, his mouth a little open, his arms limp at his sides. He seemed so vulnerable, unaware of anything around him, lost in his dream worlds.

Merlin was content to rest and let the prince sleep as long as he needed, but then the sky grew grey and opened up. There were a few drops of warning before the downpour started.

Arthur began to stir, and Merlin shifted as delicately as he could to extract a wing. He held it over Arthur, keeping him safe and dry even though his sleep was ruined.

“Cold,” Arthur muttered as he opened his eyes.

Now that he thought about it, Merlin realised the rain was rather cold. The storm had brought a chill to the air, even down into the musty cave.

“Could you put on your armour?” Merlin suggested.

Arthur just shook his head. He stretched where he sat, still leaning against Merlin’s side. He rubbed his hands up and down his arms. Merlin lowered his wing slightly, attempting to make a little pocket of warmth under it.

“Tell me,” Arthur said, “what would you be doing right now, if you weren’t down here?”

Merlin watched as Arthur extended his legs, crossed them at the ankle, and shifted to get more comfortable.

“In the rain? I’d be…” Merlin had to think about it, about his life before the cave. “Probably seeking shelter on a cliff side somewhere. Admiring the green of the trees and the lush grass as it soaks up the water. I’d be planning my next meal, wondering when the rain would stop so I could hunt. I might go flying if I fancied it, get my wings wet. I don’t mind the rain. Sometimes it’s nice and cooling and sort of…”

“Cleansing,” Arthur finished for him. “Only not just physically.”

“Yes.”

Arthur nodded. “I like horseback riding in the rain. I’m not sure the horses do, though.”

“What would you be doing?” Merlin asked. “If you weren’t down here? Besides horseback riding.”

“I’d be assisting my father in ruling the kingdom. Listening to petitioners, getting updates from the council and the knights, perhaps writing missives to our allies. It seems like every day there’s some new responsibility to take on, some new job to do, some new information to parse and act upon.”

“And you don’t miss it at all?”

“I miss feeling like I’m a part of something greater than myself,” Arthur said. “That was always what kept me going.” He paused. “And I miss hunting. What did you do for fun?”

“Fly. Hunting for me is a necessity, for food. Although I suppose the chase can be fun.”

“Do you have any… friends?” Arthur asked.

“Sometimes I would fly across the water and see what dragons I could find there. It was usually a new one every time. They’re much more populous where it’s safer for them to live. Your father has far-reaching influence, even outside of Camelot.”

“Why have you never left? Gone to live with them?”

“Some dragons are solitary. I like having my own territory.”

“Don’t you get lonely?” Arthur asked.

Merlin wasn’t sure. Down here, isolated from everything and everyone, he’d never felt so lonely. Out in the world, he had a choice to be with others or not, and the choice made all the difference. He hadn’t been lonely—he’d chosen to be alone.

“I can’t stand feeling alone,” Arthur said. “Like when you’re in a room full of people but none of them understand you. It’s awful.”

“I’ve never been in a room full of people,” Merlin said. “I’ve never even been in a room.”

Arthur laughed, the sound bright against the backdrop of the dreary rain.

“Well, I’m sorry if I’m invading your territory,” he said.

“It’s preferable to being stuck down here alone.”

Arthur nodded. “I agree.”

The conversation seemed to be over with that, and they sat there under the rain for a long time, Merlin blinking water out of his eyes and Arthur rubbing his arms and legs to keep warm.

“Have you ever seen magic do good?” Merlin asked after a while, when it was clear the rain wouldn’t be giving up anytime soon.

“No,” Arthur said. “I don’t believe it can do good.”

“What about healing magic?”

“What about it?”

“Surely that would count as doing good,” Merlin said.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

Merlin didn’t know either. Mostly he wanted Arthur to understand, to admit, that he wasn’t inherently evil just for being a creature of magic. He wanted to believe that Arthur’s mind was capable of being changed. If it was, then maybe there would be hope for his father. Maybe there was a chance Uther could learn the error of his ways. Maybe his reign of terror would come to an end and magic would be welcomed back to the land. Maybe other dragons would return.

“Magic can do wondrous things,” Merlin said at last.

“Magic can also be a force of great harm. Take our good captor Cenred.”

“It is a choice. Good and evil lie in the souls of those who yield it.”

Arthur sighed and shook his head.

Merlin decided not to push the subject any harder. Instead, he asked, “How is it you came to be captured? You said you came to kill Cenred?”

“My father sent me on a mission. He has been plaguing us for too long. I tried…” Arthur trailed off, looking uncomfortable. “I tried to be diplomatic about it. I tried to gain his trust and position myself as an ally.”

“But?”

“But then I found out he’d started using magic. He’d fallen in with Morgause. He had to be dealt with.”

“You mean killed.”

“Do you not wish him dead?” Arthur asked.

“I would like nothing more, but he has harmed me greatly. What harm did he bring to you by using magic?” When Arthur didn’t respond, Merlin asked, “Who is this Morgause?”

“Some High Priestess of the Old Religion, whatever that means.”

“You do not know?” Merlin asked.

“I know it means powerful. I know the sorceress who killed my mother was one such woman.”

“Why not just kill her?”

“I presume she would be quite difficult to kill,” Arthur said. “I was under orders to bring her back to Camelot alive.”

“What do you imagine your father would have done with her?”

“Why?” Arthur asked. “What does it matter now?”

“Do you think he might have held her captive? In a cave, perhaps?”

“I don’t appreciate what you’re implying.”

Merlin shook his head. Arthur was blind to his father’s sins. He knew perfectly well Uther would have held Morgause as prisoner, but he didn’t see how that made him the same as Cenred.

“You implied your father would have had me killed if I’d been captured in Camelot,” he said.

Arthur didn’t respond.

“Would you have wanted that?”

Arthur still said nothing.

“Would you want that now?”

“You know perfectly well I wish you no harm,” Arthur said.

Merlin supposed that was good enough for now.

“Besides,” Arthur said after a while, “it’s not like you’re so perfect. You seem to be very indecisive about whether to even like me.”

“You seem indecisive about whether to trust me,” Merlin countered.

“I’ve done nothing to dislike.”

“You’re a human.”

“So all humans are unlikeable?”

“They are when you’re a dragon and you’ve been captured and held prisoner.”

“That’s a little narrow-minded,” Arthur said.

Merlin gave him a long look, and, after a moment, Arthur cracked a smile.

“Point taken,” he said.

They fell back into silence, and gradually the rain tapered off and night fell and the cave grew colder still. Arthur pulled his limbs closer, wrapping his arms around his legs and pressing into Merlin’s side for warmth.

Merlin carefully folded his wing over him, giving him shelter, and they both drifted off.

Merlin woke slowly, light filtering down from the hole at the top of the cave and warming him. He opened his eyes to see Arthur still leaning against his side, but he was awake. He looked lost in thought—he looked sad.

“Did you sleep well?” Merlin asked.

Arthur shrugged. He was staring down at his hands in his lap. “This is my eighth day here.”

“I’m impressed you’ve been able to keep track.”

“Eight days, and no word from my father.”

“Perhaps he is gathering resources,” Merlin said.

Arthur shook his head. “He believes Cenred too weak to kill me. He thinks Cenred is bluffing.”

“Maybe he is.”

“So, I’ll just stay here forever, then.”

“He’ll come to rescue you,” Merlin said. “If he wants you to be the next king, he will not abandon you.”

“He will strategise and use this opportunity to take Cenred down,” Arthur said dully. “It could take weeks. Months.”

“I have lived down here for that long. You will survive.”

Arthur sighed and got to his feet. He walked away, to the other side of the cave where he’d discarded his armour so many days ago. He sat down heavily, leaning against the cave wall, and stared mournfully down at the floor.

It was a pitiful sight.

Merlin decided to give Arthur some time. He stood and stretched out his wings, shaking off the last of the rain from the day before.

He took off, flying around the cave, getting fresh air in his face, pretending that he had all the space in the world to explore.

The fantasy didn’t last long. He stayed in the air, though, doing lap after lap after lap until, finally, the burden of the chains grew too heavy.

He landed and went over to the trough for a long drink.

Arthur was still in his mood, ignoring Merlin completely, so Merlin curled up on his rocks to sleep away the rest of the day.

Arthur wasn’t any better the next day. In fact, he was worse, because he clearly hadn’t slept.

Merlin took a morning flight around the cave, and he could see Arthur watching him, but when he landed, Arthur went back to staring at the floor.

Merlin settled on his rocks after a quick visit to the trough and settled into a position that would let him keep an eye on Arthur. He couldn’t understand being so despondent as to not want to talk to the only other living creature around.

Some squawking drew his attention to the sky, and he got up quickly, digging his claws into the cavern wall and scrambling up to the opening.

He barely had time to look and register the flock before it was almost done passing overhead, so he breathed out fire quickly, harshly, flames rushing out of him.

Fat, long birds fell into the cave, roasted and dead. Merlin paused, taking in the fresh air and the colour of the grass and sight of trees, and then he dropped back down into the cave.

Arthur was still starting at the floor, showing no signs he had any idea there was food available.

“Come now,” Merlin said, gathering the birds in one pile. “You must eat.”

Arthur didn’t respond.

Merlin picked up one of the birds and dropped it into his mouth, eating the whole thing easily. That left four more, and he figured Arthur wouldn’t need that many, so he helped himself to another.

“Come on.” Merlin picked up one of the three remaining birds and flung it in Arthur’s direction.

Arthur flinched as the bird landed near him but didn’t move.

“You must eat,” Merlin said. “You cannot let yourself waste away. We have no way of knowing the next time they will bring us food. You might starve in the meantime.”

Still, Arthur did not move. He did not look up or acknowledge Merlin in any way.

“I do not wish to see you suffer,” Merlin said.

“You just want me to be better company,” Arthur muttered.

“Well, I would certainly prefer it if you were.”

Arthur sighed, sounding truly wrecked, and slowly got to his feet. He pulled out his dagger and stuck it in the bird Merlin had thrown, cutting it open so he could access the meat.

He worked on the bird slowly, dispiritedly, and ate less than half of it.

“Eat,” Merlin said. “You need to keep up your strength.”

Arthur said nothing, but he came over to where Merlin was on his rocks and sat down, leaning against his side. Merlin looked over at him, and his eyes were already closed. He fell asleep in no time, his breath quiet and slow.

Merlin curled up around Arthur, careful not to disturb him, and went to sleep.

Merlin was the first to wake in the morning. He stayed still, curled around Arthur, watching him sleep. He was struck, again, with how vulnerable Arthur was like this. He had no defences.

Arthur woke slowly, in phases, coming into consciousness and then drifting back out of it several times until he finally stirred and stretched himself properly awake.

“You’re a poor replacement for a bed,” he said.

Merlin laughed. “Sorry to disappoint.”

Arthur stood and made to continue stretching, but then he froze, staring at the cave entrance. Merlin followed his gaze and found Cenred standing there, looking smug.

“Aren’t you two a cosy pair,” Cenred sneered.

Arthur took out his dagger and walked right over to Cenred. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t kill you here and now.”

Cenred looked unconcerned with the obvious threat. “Do you really think killing me will get you out of here? Don’t forget—there’s a spell on those chains. Killing me won’t undo it.”

Arthur kept his dagger levelled at Cenred. Cenred reached out and pushed it until it was pointed away.

“If you’re quite done with that, I’ve come to tell you that there’s still no news from your father. I’ve sent another message with my demands. He has one more week to respond, and then I’m killing you.”

“You’re lying,” Arthur said.

Cenred smirked. “Do I have good reason to lie?”

Arthur said nothing to that, just put his dagger back in his boots and walked back over to Merlin.

“I’ll be back in a week,” Cenred said before disappearing into the cave entrance.

Arthur waited until they could no longer hear Cenred’s retreating footsteps, and then he sat down with his head in his hands. Merlin watched silently, giving him his space.

“This isn’t how I thought I would die,” he said after a while. “Trapped and helpless.”

“You have your dagger,” Merlin said. “You’re not helpless.”

Arthur pulled the dagger out and threw it aside. “It won’t do me any good. If I kill Cenred, I’ll just be stuck down here until Morgause comes to finish me off instead.”

Merlin looked at the dagger glinting in the sunlight on the cave floor. It was such a small thing, but it wasn’t insignificant. It could yield a great power, if only given the chance.

Merlin sighed and turned away from the dagger, away from Arthur.

He could help Arthur if he chose to do so. He had seen the spell Morgause had put over Arthur’s chains, and it wasn’t as powerful as the one on Merlin’s. The dagger, if given a bit of magic, would be enough to break Arthur’s chains.

Arthur deserved more than being confined down here. He deserved more than to die down here.

Merlin deserved more, too, but there was nothing either of them could do to help him. And if Merlin helped Arthur escape, there would be no one to talk to Merlin, no one to ask him about flying, no one to sleep on him.

He didn’t know if he could go back to being alone.

He didn’t know if he could go back to life without Arthur.

He’d lived a solitary life for so long, but now that he had someone—someone to look after, someone to look after him, someone to talk to, someone to fly with, someone to share with—he wasn’t sure he was meant to be solitary after all.

That wasn’t Arthur’s fault, though.

Merlin turned to look at Arthur again. “I can help,” he said.

Arthur shook his head. “No, you can’t.”

“I can. If you let me.”

Arthur was silent for a long while, his head hung low.

“Please,” Merlin said. “Let me.”

Arthur sighed and stood. “What?” he asked. “What can you do to help?”

Merlin got off his hoard. “Place your dagger there,” he said, nodding towards the rocks.

“I don’t see—”

“Are you going to let me help you or not?”

Arthur rolled his eyes and fetched the dagger. He laid it on the rocks and took a few steps back.

“Now what?” he asked.

Merlin took a long look at Arthur, at the strong line of his nose and the curve of his lips and the colour of his hair. Then he set his gaze on the dagger and opened his mouth.

Fire roared out, and Arthur staggered backwards, holding up a hand to shield his eyes from the bright flames.

The dagger glowed briefly, visible through the blaze, and Merlin knew it had been done.

“What was that for?” Arthur asked once the fire had died down.

“There is magic in my breath,” Merlin said. “You can use that dagger to cut your chains.”

“That—” Arthur looked at the dagger, his brow creased. “It can’t be that simple.”

“Can’t it?”

“Then I can cut yours as well,” Arthur said, excited. He turned to Merlin. “I can set us both free.”

Something inside Merlin ached at Arthur’s joy. “No,” he said. “The spell on my chains is much more powerful. Morgause knew what she was doing when she trapped me down here. I don’t think they ever meant for your chains to be permanent.”

Arthur’s smile fell. “I can’t just leave you here.”

“You must,” Merlin said, the ache deepening. “You must get back to Camelot. That is where your life is. That is where you are meant to be, responsibilities and expectations and all.”

“But—”

“Be quick. The sun is setting. You will have cover of darkness to aid in your escape.”

“Stop,” Arthur said, his voice rough and commanding. Merlin turned to look at him. They stared at each other, the moment growing between them. “What will you do?” Arthur finally asked.

“I will stay here,” Merlin said. “There is no other option.”

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help you?”

“I’m very certain.”

Arthur looked at the dagger, frowning. He went over, lifting it gently.

“Be quick,” Merlin said again.

Arthur went over to the stake where both their chains were held and got down on his knees. He looked sceptical, but Merlin knew the magic had worked. Arthur held the dagger up, took a deep breath, and stabbed down at his chains.

They broke instantly, nearly dissolving at the spot the dagger touched. Arthur hurried to break off the bit of chain around his leg.

He was free.

He stabbed the dagger down on Merlin’s chains, but nothing happened.

“Do not damage your only weapon,” Merlin said when it looked like Arthur was going to try again.

Arthur put the dagger in his boots and stayed where he was, looking down at his broken chains.

“I wish I could promise you your freedom,” he said softly.

Merlin believed him, but it hardly mattered. Arthur Pendragon wasn’t going to be able to free a dragon.

“Come on,” Merlin said. He lowered himself to the ground. “Climb on.”

Arthur took a few last sips of water from the trough before going over and getting onto Merlin’s neck the same way he had done days before. He held on tight, and Merlin stood.

It was a difficult climb to the top. Merlin did his best to keep his head level so Arthur wouldn’t fall, but he kept slipping anyway. They kept having to stop, to rearrange and readjust.

The sky was already dark by the time they reached the opening. Merlin lifted his head out, and Arthur scrambled off Merlin’s neck and onto solid, grassy earth.

“Do you know which way to go?” Merlin asked.

Arthur nodded, pulling out his dagger. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Just… get home safely. Become a better king than your father. And…”

“Anything,” Arthur said.

“Don’t forget me.”

Arthur reached out, pressing a hand to the bridge of Merlin’s nose. “I won’t forget.”

Merlin lowered his head back into the cave. “Go,” he said.

Arthur hesitated, but then he was off running, and very soon Merlin lost sight of him.

Merlin stayed where he was until his claws ached from their grip on the walls, and he flew back down to the bottom of the cave.

It was empty and silent without Arthur.

He settled on his rocks and closed his eyes, hoping for sleep, but sleep would not come. His mind was disquieted, worrying about Arthur, wishing Arthur were still here, missing the weight of Arthur against his side.

After what he was sure was useless hours of no sleep, Merlin finally opened his eyes and looked up at the night sky.

It was deceptively peaceful. Arthur was out there, running for his life. Merlin hoped Cenred would not realise one of his prisoners was gone until he came down a week from now. That would give Arthur more than enough time to get back to Camelot.

The moonlight glinted off of something, and Merlin glanced around to see Arthur’s discarded, rusty armour lying on the ground.

It was a surprisingly painful sight. It was all that was left of Arthur, all that Merlin had to remember him by. It was the only proof that Merlin hadn’t dreamt up Arthur as a companion.

He got up to collect the armour, bring it back over to his rocks. He piled the metal neatly and curled around it, closing his eyes and hoping, again, for sleep.

Days passed with nothing. No appearances from Cenred, no food from his soldiers, no rain, no flocks of birds overhead, no nothing.

Life had returned to what it was before Arthur had come into the cave—dull and depressing. Except, now that he knew what life could be like with Arthur, Merlin found the old existence agonising.

Minutes took hours to pass, hours took entire days, days took lifetimes. Every second was empty, tedious, wearisome, and Merlin was losing his will to cope with it all.

He spent as much time as he could sleeping, and when he was awake, he flew. He flew in monotonous circles, he flew up and down the sides of the cave, he flew to the opening at the top and peered out, but there were never any signs of Arthur or even of Cenred.

Life outside the cave was carrying on, and Merlin was being left behind.

One day—it must have been a week since Arthur had escaped—Cenred came down into the cave. He came with his soldiers, a sheep, and Morgause.

“Where is he?” Cenred asked, looking around the cave.

Merlin was on his rocks, curled around Arthur’s armour.

“Where is he?” Cenred asked again, voice louder.

Merlin sighed. “He is gone.”

Cenred came further into the cave and made his way to the stake. Arthur’s broken chains were still lying there.

He rounded on Morgause. “How did this happen?”

“It shouldn’t be possible,” Morgause said. “You saw me—”

“It was me,” Merlin said. “I forged his dagger in my breath, and he broke the chains.”

The look on Cenred’s face was worth revealing the truth. He was furious and indignant, and there was nothing he could do. Arthur was gone, long gone, and Cenred had been made a fool.

“This will not be forgotten,” Cenred hissed. He turned and stormed out of the cave.

Morgause pressed one hand to the stake and one hand to Merlin’s chains. Her eyes glowed gold with some fresh spell, reinforcing what she’d already done as if Merlin had some plan of escaping. Then she followed Cenred out.

The soldiers disappeared down the entrance as well, leaving only the sheep behind.

Merlin killed it swiftly and deposited it in a far corner. He had no desire to eat.

Merlin lost track of time completely. He slept through days and was awake through nights. It rained once, and it felt like nothing on his scales. He had nothing to live for any more, nothing to bring him even a spark of happiness, and he hoped the end would come quickly.

One day—he knew not how long it had been since the last visit—Cenred and Morgause came to him. They brought no soldiers or food with them. Not that Merlin would have eaten it anyway.

“Come,” Cenred ordered, but Merlin stayed where he was, draped over his rocks. “Fine. Morgause.” He nodded at her, and she went over to the stake.

Merlin watched, deeply uninterested, as she pressed her hands to the chains and cast yet another spell. He didn’t know what it would do this time. Make the chains heavier, perhaps. Make them shorter. Make them tighter. Regardless, Merlin didn’t care.

The chains glowed under Morgause’s incantation, and then they broke apart, each individual chain cracking and opening, even the ones on Merlin’s legs. He could feel the metal falling away from his skin, leaving him unchained, leaving him free.

“Why?” Merlin asked, hesitant to believe he was really being let go.

“Camelot has declared war on us,” Cenred said. Merlin supposed that was hardly surprising. “You will fight on our side. You will burn the Camelot army.”

“Why?” Merlin asked again.

“Because if you do as I command, I will let you roam free for the rest of your life. I will protect you, if you stay within my borders. You will have no predators, not even humans.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then I will kill you, slowly.”

Merlin considered the options. It did not seem as if Cenred had considered them well. He seemed to think he had the upper hand, but Merlin was smarter than that.

“Very well,” he said, standing and stretching to his full height. “I will fight for you.”

Cenred smirked. He opened his mouth to say something, probably something stupid, but Merlin beat him to it. He rained down fire upon the king, upon Morgause, burning them both to a crisp. Their bodies fell to the ground, skin melting away, clothes turning to ashes, only bones remaining.

Cutting off the flames, Merlin looked down at the skeletons on the cave floor. If they had only waited to release him, he would have no choice but to fight. But they’d been arrogant, and now they were dead.

Merlin grabbed one of Arthur’s pauldrons in one claw, a gauntlet in the other, and took off towards the sky. He did not look back.

When Merlin emerged from the cave, he saw the battlefield, the army camps, the lines of horses and piles of weapons. He couldn’t tell which side was which, but he supposed it didn’t matter.

He circled the scene, watching as soldiers registered the presence of a dragon and began to panic. He knew they must think he was there to fight for Cenred, to kill them all, but he had no such intentions. He just wanted to see—just a glimpse would do.

It didn’t take long. He saw Arthur emerge from a tent, gaze lifted to the sky.

He looked well. Strong, healthy, clad in new armour and ready to fight. An older man appeared next to him, looking stern. It was Uther, and he immediately began speaking in Arthur’s ear. Merlin could only imagine what he was saying. He was probably telling Arthur exactly how he was going to capture Merlin and kill him.

Merlin wasn’t going to let that happen. All he had wanted was a brief look at Arthur, and now that he had it, he would be on his way.

He made one last circle around the battlefield, eyes locked on Arthur, who was still watching him, and then he took off.

He flew, finally appreciating the wind—the real wind—on his face and in his wings. He’d forgotten, trapped in the cage, how freeing, how exhilarating, how intoxicating it was to be able to truly fly. He had total reign over the sky. He could go anywhere he liked. Anywhere in the world.

He flew until nightfall and then flew some more, exhausting himself before finally coming to an island in a foggy lake. He landed on the shore, dropping Arthur’s armour, and drank from the water until he could barely hold his head up any longer. He let himself lay down, the water licking at his tail, and fall asleep to the sound of the waves and night birds and open air.

The morning came too soon, and Merlin was pulled from his dreams by the sun beating down on him in full force. He was warm all over, from his head spikes down to his claws, and he basked in it for a moment before getting to his feet and stretching.

He was free. This was a brand new day, his first day outside of the cave in what must have been an entire age, and he was going to make the most of it.

There was a fine breeze on the air, and Merlin collected Arthur’s amour and then lifted off into it, letting it push him along. He circled the island a few times, alerting whoever might be there to his presence, savouring the feeling of flying and flapping his wings, and then he landed, carefully, in the courtyard of the ancient castle that sat high in the centre.

A woman emerged from the halls of the castle, her brown hair falling past her shoulders, her red dress in something close to tatters. Still, Merlin could feel the power radiating off her as she approached. She was smiling, but it wasn’t exactly a kind expression.

Merlin set down the armour and bowed his head in greeting.

“What brings a Great Dragon to the Isle of the Blessed?” she asked.

“You are a High Priestess of the Old Religion,” Merlin said.

The woman nodded. “I am Nimueh.”

“Merlin.”

Nimueh’s strange smile widened. “Ah. I see you have escaped.”

“I was set free,” Merlin said. “You have heard of me?”

“I heard from Morgause there was a dragon being kept in the caves under Cenred’s castle.”

“Cenred is dead.” Merlin paused and then added, “So is Morgause.”

“And you’ve come here to brag?”

“I have come to ask... a favour.”

Nimueh laughed, a short bark. “A favour?”

Merlin nodded. Nimueh considered him, tilting her head to the side.

“All right, I’ll bite,” she said, smirking. “What favour are you asking?”

“I wish to become human.”

Shock flitted across Nimueh’s face for a brief moment, and then she laughed, long and hard.

“It’s not a joke,” Merlin said.

“It most certainly is. You’re one of the most powerful creatures in the world, and you wish to give all that up and become human. It is a cosmic joke. Why do you desire this?”

“My reasons are my own.”

Nimueh grinned. “Oh, I see. Well, in that case.”

Merlin clenched his jaw. “There’s—” He did not want to share, did not want to be mocked, but he knew there was no other way. “There’s a human. He was held prisoner with me, and I want—I would like to join him in his human life.”

Nimueh’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh? That is one of the more surprising things I’ve heard in a good long while. A Great Dragon, in love with a human?”

“What do dragons know of love?” Merlin asked, agitated. “I only know that I am not meant to live my life this way, alone all the time.”

“Stay here, then. Protect me and guard this castle. I will keep you company.”

Merlin said nothing, just gazed down at Nimueh, waiting for her to read his rejection of the offer.

“Fine,” she said. “Let me think.”

She walked around the courtyard, circling Merlin before coming back to stand in front of him.

“I can do this for you,” she said. “But you must present an offering in return.”

“I have nothing to give.”

“Don’t be so sure. This transformation means a lot to you. You must give up something else that means something you to in return. You cannot simply take without restoring the balance.”

Merlin considered that. He had nothing to give, had no possessions. Everything he’d ever had was lost when he was captured. The only things he had now were—pieces of Arthur’s armour.

They were at his feet, glinting in the sunlight.

“I have—”

“Bring them to me.”

Arthur lifted the pauldron and the gauntlet, laying them gently down in front of Nimueh.

“These belong to your human?”

Merlin nodded.

“Very well. Be still.”

Merlin sat, folding his wings back, and did not move. Nimueh raised her hands, closed her eyes, and began to breathe deeply. Her chest heaved with the effort of it, and just as Merlin was thinking she was going to make herself pass out, she opened her eyes and began enchanting. Her eyes glowed gold, and Merlin felt the spell take hold.

It started in his gut, the feeling of being ripped apart, and he struggled to stay standing as it seared up to his chest. It reached his throat, and he gasped, and then it hit him full force in the head and he cried out, curling up on himself. His tail felt like it was being cloven in half, his torso felt like it was caving in on itself, his limbs were prickling with a thousand needles, and his head was filled with nothing but a high-pitched shriek.

He fell to the ground, panting, giving himself up to the pain, sure he was finally dying.

“Merlin.”

He heard Nimueh’s voice in the distance, and he clung to it, trying to cling to consciousness as the agony receded slightly.

“Merlin.”

Feeling seeped back into him, and he felt like he’d been tortured, but the worst was gone. Now he only ached, his heart pulsing in his fingertips.

Fingertips.

Merlin opened one eye and saw a human hand in front of him. His hand.

He closed his eye again and caught his breath slowly, still in shock from the transformation.

“Get up,” Nimueh said after she grew impatient.

Merlin breathed in deeply, feeling his lungs fill and his chest expand, and pushed himself up until he was sitting. He looked down at his hands, at their knuckles and fingernails and palm lines. He flexed his fingers, testing out his control.

“Get up,” Nimueh said again.

Merlin got to his feet. It took him a moment to find his balance, unused to being so vertical rather than horizontal. He looked down at his toes and wiggled them. The grass felt plush under his bare feet.

“You need clothes,” Nimueh said.

Merlin looked up to see her smiling, her gaze near his waist. He glanced down, taking in the rest of his new body. He had never seen a human naked before. He thought he looked rather silly, his cock hanging out there with no protection.

Nimueh conjured some clothes and helped him into them. He moved awkwardly, not yet used to his long limbs and their range of motion, but eventually was dressed. His clothes were simple—brown pants, blue shirt, red scarf, brown jacket. Nimueh crouched down to get shoes on his feet, and then she stood and took a step back to admire her work.

“How do you feel?”

Merlin cleared his throat before answering. “Strange. I’m very… small.”

Nimueh smiled, but there was something unkind about it. “You’ll get used to it. Or, maybe you won’t. You don’t have much time.”

“What do you mean?”

“You have one month.”

Merlin got a sinking feeling in his chest. “And then what?”

“Well, that depends on you. If you earn what you desire, you can stay human. If you fail, you will be a dragon again, forever.”

“How do I earn what I desire?”

Nimueh’s smile grew wicked. “Haven’t you ever heard a fairytale? You must get true love’s first kiss. If you can get this human to love you, you can stay with him. If he does not fall in love with you after a month, you will have to enjoy the rest of your life in your natural state.”

Merlin had not anticipated there to be terms to this transformation. He supposed he should have asked, but it wasn’t as if he had much experience with these kinds of favours, with this kind of magic. He was only familiar with his own magic, and its rules were very simple. At least, they had been when he was a dragon.

“Can I still breathe fire?” he asked.

“No. You should have magic, though, I’ll warn you, if you use it to trick this man into falling for you, that will not count.”

“I wouldn’t,” Merlin said. He looked down at his hands, thinking of Morgause and how she had touched his chains to enchant them. “How do I access my magic?”

Nimueh looked bored. “I don’t know. I’m not going to sit here teaching you spells.”

Merlin didn’t want that, either. He wanted to leave, to get started on his journey to Camelot. If he only had a month, he needed to head out today.

“Thank you for your assistance,” he said, and he turned to go.

“Tell me,” Nimueh called after him. “Who is this man who captured the heart of a dragon?”

Merlin turned back to look at her. “His name is Arthur.”

Nimueh’s eyes flashed. “Arthur Pendragon?”

Merlin nodded, and Nimueh burst out laughing, the sound piercing in the quiet of the ruins. Merlin did not appreciate her response.

“I wish you luck,” she said, wiping at her eyes. “There’s a ferryman on the eastern shore who can help you back to the mainland.”

Merlin turned again and walked out of the courtyard, glad to go.

“Oh, and Merlin,” Nimueh called after him again. “I wouldn’t let on your about your true identity. You know magic is not welcome in Camelot.”

Merlin continued on to the eastern shore, ready to begin his journey.

Once he was back on land, Merlin walked in the direction of Camelot for as long as he could. He walked through woods, over hills, across valleys, past mountains and farmlands and marshes.

His human body grew weary quickly, but he pushed on, walking despite the pain in his legs and back and feet.

He wished he had a horse, but then again, he’d never ridden a horse. He’d probably fall right off and get trampled.

Night fell, and Merlin continued walking, using the stars as guidance. He knew the stars well, having used them to navigate many a night as a dragon. They, at least, had stayed the same, and they were comforting overhead.

He walked until dawn and then kept on, refusing to stop. He was aching all over, and the sun beating down on him made him start sweating through his clothes, but he couldn’t rest. He only had one month to win Arthur’s heart, and time was passing already.

He reached another woods and walked through them, going slower by the minute, struggling to keep his bearings. His feet were dragging, his body heavy and uncooperative.

A tree root, hidden in leaves, caught his toes, and he tripped forward, only barely getting his arms out in time so he didn’t land on his face.

He stayed down, winded and with no energy to get back up. He breathed into the dirt, head swimming from the fall and the exhaustion.

He would have to take a break. He simply couldn’t go on like this. He would get lost or injured even worse, and it wasn’t worth the risk.

Merlin managed to sit up. He leaned against a tree, stretching his legs out before him and letting his hands rest in his lap. They were scraped up from his fall, his palms bleeding, but there was nothing he could about that except hope it would stop soon. His skin stung from the wounds.

Humans were so frail.

The sun began to set, and Merlin tried to stand, but he was so tired. He needed proper rest before he could continue on, and he wouldn’t be able to navigate by the stars in the woods, not with the canopy of trees blocking them out.

Everything grew dark, grew cold, and Merlin tugged his jacket tighter around himself and drifted off to thoughts of being in one of those beds humans were so fond of.

“Wake up.”

Merlin stirred, his head and body aching. The ground was no longer a comfortable place to sleep now that he was human. He could feel every root and branch and rock through his thin clothes.

“Wake up.”

Merlin opened his eyes, sun hitting them directly and making it hard to see. He held up a hand, trying to block the light.

“Who are you?”

There were several people standing around him, all in shining armour. Merlin dropped his hand and looked around frantically, hoping against hope.

Arthur wasn’t among them, though.

“Are you deaf?”

Merlin struggled to stand. There were no friendly faces among the mean surrounding him. One of them had his sword out, pointing it in Merlin’s direction.

“Who are you?” one of them asked again.

“I’m Merlin,” he said, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Merlin.”

“Merlin. What are you doing out here?”

“I was sleeping. I’m trying to reach Camelot, and I… it was nightfall, so I…”

“Camelot?”

Merlin nodded.

“What business have you in Camelot?”

Merlin had no idea how to answer that question.

“Where are you from?”

“I’m… from Essetir.”

The men all looked at each other.

“Essetir and Camelot are not friendly,” one of them said.

“I know,” Merlin said. “I was—” He paused. “A war broke out, and I had to flee.”

“Flee to Camelot?”

“I heard the king was friendly to refugees,” Merlin invented.

The man with his sword drawn finally lowered it. “Refugees are always welcome in Camelot,” he said. He walked away, to a cluster of horses, and Merlin heard him talking to someone.

“You look like you need more rest,” one of the other men said. “How long have you been travelling?”

“A day and a half.”

“There’s blood on your trousers.”

Merlin looked down. It must have come from his hands. He held them up, showing off the ripped off skin and dried blood.

The man with the sword returned to the group, and trailing behind him was Arthur.

Merlin’s chest clenched, and his stomach did a weird flip.

“Merlin, is it?” Arthur asked as he approached.

Merlin nodded.

“I hear you’re from Essetir.”

Merlin nodded again. Arthur looked as tired as Merlin felt, as if he’d gone back to refusing to sleep. But he also looked beautiful, free and out in the sun. Light was bouncing off his hair, off his cheekbones, off his armour. He was glowing, and Merlin couldn’t look away.

“I’ll have one of my knights bring you to the city,” he said. Then he turned to one of the other men. “Bring him to Gaius, have him checked out.”

The man nodded, and the rest of the group, including Arthur, dispersed and went back to their horses.

Merlin took a step forward, wanting to follow Arthur, wanting to stay with him, but the other man reached out, putting a warm hand on his arm.

“Stay here,” he said, and Merlin didn’t know what else to do but obey.

The man went to grab his horse and brought it back over, motioning for Merlin to get up on it.

“I—don’t know how,” Merlin said.

The man looked surprised. “You’ve never ridden?”

Merlin shook his head.

“Is there a shortage of horses in Essetir?”

It seemed to be a joke, so Merlin smiled, and the man laughed.

“We’ll walk it back, then. I’m Gwaine, by the way. Did you leave your family behind?”

Gwaine started off in the opposite direction of the rest of the men and Arthur. Merlin went with Gwaine, looking over his shoulder as everyone else mounted their horses and took off.

“You’ve been walking for too long,” Gwaine said.

“What?”

“You’re moving slow, and you take a long time to answer questions. I asked if you left your family behind.”

“No family,” Merlin said. He tried to pick up the pace, but he was sore from overexerting himself.

“What did you do in Essetir?” Gwaine asked.

“I—how long have you been a knight?”

Gwaine laughed. “All right, no questions. We can just walk. We’re not far now.”

It turned out to be true. As soon as they were out of the woods, Merlin could see the castle of the city of Camelot looming ahead.

Gwaine dropped off his horse at the stables, and then they walked through the lower town. Merlin was amazed at how many people were crammed into such a small amount of space. There were people seemingly everywhere, coming in and out of buildings, wandering the streets, manning their stalls, standing around and chatting.

No one paid him or Gwaine any attention as they made their way to the castle. Gwaine led him inside, up some stairs, down a corridor, and they came to a stop outside a wooden door.

Gwaine knocked and then opened the door, gesturing for Merlin to go inside first.

Merlin stepped into the room. It was filled to the brim with belongings. There were books and vials of potions and shelves of herbs and jars of ingredients. It was like a hoard, except it was organised instead of in a pile.

“Gaius?” Gwaine asked as he stepped inside.

Merlin noticed a man at one of the tables. He was old, his white hair down to his shoulders, and he wore a long robe.

He stood and came over. “Gwaine, how are you? And who is this?”

“This is Merlin,” Gwaine said, clapping Merlin on the back. “He just arrived from Essetir. We found him in the woods. Prince Arthur asked me to escort him to you.”

“Oh? Are you hurt?”

Merlin held out his hands. Gaius took them in his own, inspecting them.

“Not to worry,” he said. “I’ll have you cleaned up in no time.”

“You’re in good hands, Merlin,” Gwaine said, and then he walked out, leaving Merlin with Gaius.

“Come,” Gaius said, leading Merlin over to a workbench.

Merlin sat down, and Gaius cleaned off his wounds with something that stung. Gaius wrapped his hands with thin pieces of fabric, shielding his cuts from getting any worse.

“There you are,” Gaius said. “Any other ailments?”

Merlin shook his head.

“Then you are free to go.” Gaius stood and went back to his other table to continue whatever he had been doing when Merlin and Gwaine had come in.

Merlin stayed where he was, a horrible feeling overtaking him. He had made it to Camelot, and he had no plan. He’d seen Arthur, but he had no idea how to find him again. He had no home, no place to go. He had no money and no way to obtain any. He hadn’t eaten or had any water in days. He was nothing but a lost soul in an enormous castle.

“Merlin?” Gaius asked, looking over at him. “Did you need something else?”

Merlin shook his head.

Gaius watched him for a moment.

“Gwaine said you just arrived,” he said.

Merlin nodded.

“Have you eaten?”

“No.”

“Ah. Well, I don’t have much, but you’re welcome to it. It’s left over from my supper last night.”

Gaius stood and crossed the room to another table, lifting a cloth and revealing a plate of food underneath it. He brought it over to Merlin.

“Bread,” he said when he saw Merlin just staring at it. “And chicken.”

Merlin helped himself to the chicken first. It was dry, but he was starving and it didn’t matter. He followed it up with the bread, which was also dry, and he started having a hard time chewing. His jaw was as tired as the rest of him.

He gave up on the bread, setting it back on the plate.

“Do you have any family in Camelot?” Gaius asked. “Any friends?”

Merlin shook his head.

“I see. I assume you have some money on you, at least? Some gold?”

“Do I owe you?” Merlin asked.

“No. But you will need coins to get a room and more food.”

“I…” Merlin licked his dry lips. “I have nothing. I had to leave in a hurry. I brought nothing with me.”

Gaius sighed and gave him a long look. “Do you have any experience with medicine?”

Merlin shook his head.

“Do you know anything about herbs?”

Merlin shook his head again.

“Well. I suppose you will have to learn.”

“Learn?”

“I’ve been thinking of taking on an assistant. I don’t have enough time in the day to collect herbs and make potions with them. I can’t pay much, but I can give you room and board in exchange. That should tide you over until you find something better.”

“Thank you,” Merlin said. “I promise I’ll work hard.”

Gaius offered a smile. “Good.” He went over to his shelves and pulled out a book that he brought over to Merlin. “Can you read?”

Merlin shook his head.

“Hm. I’ll have to teach you that as well. For now you can go off the pictures.” He opened the book, showing the illustrations of different plants and herbs. “Study this,” he said. “Try to familiarise yourself with what things look like so you’ll be able to spot them out in the wild.”

Merlin took the book and set it on the table in front of him. He flipped through the pages, overwhelmed at the text. He didn’t know how he would learn to read—there were so many different words.

He turned his focus to the pictures, studying the shapes of different leaves, the colour of different flowers, the appearance of different herbs. The book was thick, a wealth of knowledge, and Merlin went slowly, trying to memorise as much as he could.

Gaius began moving around him, moving around furniture and making a lot of noise. Merlin turned to see him disappearing up a few stairs, into a room at the back Merlin hadn’t noticed before. He came out a minute later, arms laden with blankets. He set them down on a bed in the corner.

“Can I help?” Merlin asked.

“I’m just about done.” Gaius began making the bed, stretching sheets and blanket over the mattress. “You can have the back room,” he said as he worked. “I hate the stairs—I walk up enough of them in this castle, I don’t need them in my own home.”

Merlin leaned back to peer into the back room. All he could see of it was a bed.

“Thank you,” he said. “That is very generous.”

“You’re doing me a favour,” Gaius said as he returned to his workbench. “I’ve been looking for an excuse to move out of that room for ages.”

Merlin went back to his book, studying the images and committing them to memory. The sun went down gradually, the room growing dimmer until Gaius went around lighting candles. Merlin kept turning pages, but his mind grew slow, unable to register what he was looking at.

He yawned, the urge uncontrollable, and Gaius stood from his table.

“You should get some rest, Merlin,” he said. “You’ve had a long journey. The bed’s all made for you. I don’t have any nightclothes for you, we’ll have to find some for you later. There’s extra blankets in there, so you should be warm if you choose to undress.”

“Thank you,” Merlin said. He closed his book and got up, yawning again. “Thank you for being so kind.”

“I can’t imagine what it’s like to be displaced like you’ve been,” Gaius said. “I’m happy to offer what I can. Go, get some rest. I’ll wake you in the morning if the sun doesn’t wake you first.”

Merlin thanked Gaius again and went up to his room, closing the door behind him.

There was a window high on one wall, a desk below it, and a cupboard opposite. The bed was in the centre of the room, the head pressed up against the back wall.

Moonlight twinkled in through the window, and Merlin climbed onto the desk to get a better look outside. The sky was vast, filled with stars that glinted and gleamed.

A sadness crept over him for a moment at the thought that he might never fly again.

He stepped down from the desk and took off his clothes. He had made his decision, and he had accepted what he would sacrifice for it. If he could get close to Arthur again, it would all be worth it.

Merlin climbed into his bed naked and pulled the covers over himself. They were warm, as Gaius had said, and the mattress was much, much more comfortable than the hard ground had been. He rested his head on the pillow and imagined Arthur must be turning in as well, safe in his own bed elsewhere in the castle. The thought made Merlin smile as he drifted off.

Merlin woke to the sound of birds outside his window, singing bright and early. He rolled over under the covers, trying to stay comfortable, trying to enjoy the slow, warm way his body was waking up. He felt so cosy, so tucked in, and he wanted to stay in the bed as long as possible.

He’d had no idea sleep could be so pleasant. He’d spent his entire life sleeping outside, on rocks, in the rain, curled up against the wind. Here, inside the castle, there was nothing to disturb him. There was only the bed, snug and inviting.

Noises came from the main room, the quiet sounds of Gaius getting ready for the day, and Merlin knew he couldn’t actually stay wrapped up in the blankets for as long as he might have wanted. He thew back the covers and sat on the edge of the bed, wiggling his toes on the floor.

The room was chilly outside of the comfort of the bed, so Merlin got up and got dressed back into the clothes Nimueh had given him. He moved a little less awkwardly now, used to his long limbs and how to control them. He took off the bandages on his hands and found that his skin had begun to heal under their protection.

When he was ready, Merlin came out in to the main room. Gaius was standing over a table, slipping small pieces of paper into the book Merlin had studied the day before.

“Ah, good morning,” he said, glancing up. “Did you sleep well?”

“Very well.”

“Excellent. I need you to gather some herbs for me this morning. I’m marking the ones I need.”

Merlin went over and saw that Gaius had marked quite a few pages. “What if I can’t find them all?”

“Do your best,” Gaius said. He marked one last page and closed the book, handing it over. “I’ll get you a bag.”

A few minutes later, Merlin was leaving Gaius’s rooms laden with his book and a bag and directions on where in the woods might be helpful to look.

He made his way through the castle, emerging into the sunlight and the courtyard. The castle gleamed in the daylight, and Merlin imagined the white stone would be visible for miles and miles. It was so large, so soaring—it was a wonder Merlin hadn’t gotten lost even on his short walk from Gaius’s.

He walked through the city, through the lower town, out into the woods. He found a suitable spot, a nice clearing with some bushes, like Gaius had suggested, and took out the book. There was so much he had to find.

It was hard work, scouring the ground for specific plants, and Merlin grew hot and tired under the sun. He pushed himself, though, wanting to earn his keep properly. He was human now, and humans had jobs, and Gaius was counting on him.

He wasn’t sure how long it took—several hours, probably—but eventually Merlin had all the herbs Gaius had requested. He’d taken handfuls of each and wrapped them together with little bits of string Gaius had put in his bag.

Wiping sweat off his brow, Merlin headed back in the direction of the castle.

At least, he thought he was headed towards the castle. He turned out to be headed in the opposite direction, and by the time he realised, the sun was high in the sky, beating down on him. He turned around and trudged back through the woods, emerging, finally, in view of the castle.

He wasn’t used to getting lost. Usually, he had an overhead view of landmarks and could fly in whichever direction he pleased without losing his way. Down here on the ground, he was only able to see what was right in front of him, and the woods all looked the same.

Still, he’d made it out, and he went back to Gaius’s.

Gaius was pleased with his work, and he took the bag from him, laying out all the herbs on a workbench.

“Splendid,” he said. “Now, how about some food?”

Merlin grinned, not having realised the appetite he’d worked up out in the woods, and joined Gaius at a table. He ate quickly, clearing his plate in no time at all, and Gaius watched him with an amused look on his face.

“Good?” Gaius asked as Merlin licked off his fingertips.

Merlin nodded. “Very,” he said. “Thank you.”

“Tell me, what did you do in Essetir?”

“Charcoal,” Merlin said, remembering a human he’d met once on a routine hunt for food. The man had had a small hut that smoked impressively, and he’d lived alone, well away from any other town or houses. It seemed a good enough lie.

“And you lived near Cenred’s castle?”

“Yes. I had to leave when the war broke out.”

“And you left everything and everyone behind?” Gaius asked.

“Well.” Merlin wiped his hands off on his trousers. “I lived alone, you see. No family. It all happened so fast.”

Gaius nodded. “We could see if there’s a charcoal maker in town. One who might be looking for an assistant.”

“Oh—no. I grew quite tired of that work. I’m glad to be doing something new.”

“I see. Well, how about we get started on reading lessons?”

Merlin nodded, and Gaius brought him over to a workbench and took out a small book. He opened it, and there was only one letter per page, big and bold. There were small drawings around the letters, depictions of words that started with that letter.

Gaius went slowly, sounding out each letter for Merlin and having him repeat them, but it was still overwhelming. Merlin didn’t know how he was ever going to remember how so many different shapes were supposed to sound.

They made it through the book once, then Gaius started all over again, and Merlin’s head started feeling a bit numb. He listened as best he could, trying to commit at least a few letters to memory.

They were interrupted by a knock on the door, and Merlin found himself quite grateful for a break. He turned to see who had knocked and saw Arthur coming into the room.

“Prince Arthur,” Gaius said, getting to his feet. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Arthur glanced briefly at Merlin before answering. “I was hoping for another potion.”

“A sleeping draught?”

“Yes.”

“Of course. It will take me a few minutes to make one.”

“I’ll wait.”

Gaius nodded and went to his workbench, pulling out a fresh bottle and mixing ingredients together. Merlin watched, curious how he knew so many different remedies.

“You’ll be glad to know Merlin is settling in well,” Gaius said as he worked.

“Who?”

“Merlin.” Gaius nodded towards where Merlin was still sitting with the letter book. “Gwaine said you found him in the woods.”

Arthur looked over at Merlin again, but there was no sign of recognition in his expression. He’d forgot. Merlin had made no impression on him at all. He’d just been a brief interruption in Arthur’s day, one so small that Arthur couldn’t even be bothered to remember it.

It stung.

“Here you are.” Gaius handed a potion to Arthur. “A few drops before you get into bed and you’ll be out like a light.”

“Thank you, Gaius.” Arthur nodded at him, glanced one more time at Merlin, and then let himself out.

“He doesn’t remember me,” Merlin said as soon as he was gone.

“Don’t take it personally, Merlin. The prince is extremely busy. Besides, poor sleep is no good on the mind, especially the memory.”

“He doesn’t sleep?”

“He doesn’t seem to,” Gaius said. “Ever since he came back from Essetir.”

“From the war?”

“From—” Gaius frowned. “I suppose you might not have known. Before the fighting broke out, Cenred held Arthur hostage for ten days. That’s what caused Uther to declare war, after Arthur escaped and returned home.”

“Oh.” Merlin wasn’t sure what else to say.

“He hasn’t talked to anyone about it,” Gaius said, “but it must have been a very difficult time to cause him to lose so much sleep over it.”

“And before this, before Cenred, he didn’t have a problem sleeping?”

“Not that I knew of.” Gaius came back over and opened the letter book again. “Let’s get back to it.”

After Gaius went through the letters with him a few more times, Merlin spent the evening with the book on his own, sounding out each letter, sometimes asking Gaius to remind him which sound went with which shape, practising until he had the whole book practically memorised.

It felt good to put his mind to use, although it was also very tiring, and Merlin went to his room as soon as the sun went down, exhausted. He undressed and got under the covers, picturing Arthur taking his sleeping draught and then doing the same. He hoped the draught worked for him—he didn’t like the idea of Arthur continuing to struggle with sleep now that he was back home, truly safe, in the comfort of his own bed.

In the morning, Merlin woke up when Gaius knocked on his door. He got out of bed and into his clothes, hurrying out to the main room where Gaius gave him the book on plants and an empty bag.

“Be as quick as you can,” Gaius said. “There’s a feast tonight, and I secured you a serving job.”

“Serving?” Merlin asked, slinging the bag over his shoulder.

“Yes, food and drink. I’ll set out some bathwater for you so you can clean up for it when you get back. Hurry, now.” He shooed Merlin out into the corridor.

Merlin went out into the woods, careful to remember his way this time, and started collecting what Gaius had marked in the book. Luckily, this time he had only marked a few pages, and it didn’t take nearly as long for Merlin to find everything. The sun wasn’t even that high when he was finished.

He went back to Gaius’s and found it empty, so he laid out the herbs he’d picked and went into his room. There was a large bucket on the floor, filled with water. There were cloths on the bed, and some sort of brush.

Merlin stared at the display, confused, until he remembered Gaius saying he would set out bathwater. Merlin was meant to clean himself with this setup.

He closed the door and undressed, eyeing the bucket. He couldn’t fit inside, and he didn’t want to dump it on himself and get water everywhere, so there must be some other way.

He took up the brush and dipped it in the water, soaking the bristles. The water was warm and must have had some oils mixed in with it because it smelled very pleasant. Merlin let his hand rest in the bucket for a moment. Then, sceptical, he ran the brush over his chest.

It wasn’t an entirely pleasant sensation, but it didn’t exactly hurt, either. He scrubbed himself everywhere he could reach, his arms, his legs, parts of his back, most of his front, under his arms, behind his knees, over his toes. He tried to brush his cock, but that he found quite painful. He settled for washing there with his hands, splashing the water over himself.

When he was done, he dried off using the linens from the bed and tried to get back into his clothes. They smelled much less pleasant than the water.

Merlin dunked them in the bucket, thinking they needed to be washed as well. He scrubbed over parts of them with the brush, but he wasn’t sure if that was really doing anything, so he simply let them soak for a few minutes, hoping they would acquire the nice scent of the water.

He heard Gaius come back into the main room and start working, knocking vials together, pulling things off shelves, paging through books.

Deciding the clothes were probably as clean as they were going to get, Merlin pulled them out of the bucket. He wrung them out, trying to get them as dry as possible, and laid them out on the bed.

They were still damp, and he imagined it would take quite a long time for them to fully dry in this room with no wind or anything to speed the process. But he wanted to be dressed again, wanted to go out and see if Gaius needed any more help or maybe get back to his letter book.

If only he knew a spell to dry his clothes.

If only he knew how to access his magic at all.

Merlin rubbed his hands together, trying to get a grasp on the feeling of magic. When he had been a dragon, all he’d had to do was think about it, and his breath would turn to fire.

Maybe if he just thought about now, it would work the same.

He pressed his hands to his wet shirt and concentrated on wanting it to be dry. He wished it dry. He willed it dry.

Something sparked through him, through his blood and his muscles and his bones, and then the shirt was dry.

Merlin laughed in triumph. It had worked. He had used his magic.

He dried his trousers and jacket as well, leaving his scarf to dry on its own, and then he got dressed and went out to see Gaius.

“All clean?” Gaius asked.

Merlin nodded.

“Good. It’s time for you to report for duty.”

Merlin followed Gaius out of his chambers and through the castle, down a corridor, down some stairs, through wide halls and entryways, until they reached what Gaius called the Great Hall.

It was packed with people, all of them working. There were servants decorating the walls, others setting up tables, others bringing out flower arrangements, others lighting grand candelabras. In the centre of the room, directing it all, was Arthur.

Merlin warmed at the sight of him, and he wondered if there was some way he might be able to get his attention, to talk to him. Then he realised Arthur was shouting, barking orders, rebuking servants who all seemed to be working hard, chastising the decor. Everyone around him looked miserable, their heads down and their brows furrowed as they tried to please the prince.

“He’s in a mood,” Gaius said quietly to Merlin. “Try to blend in. Good luck.”

Merlin floundered for a moment, watching as Gaius walked out, and then he hurried to the nearest table to ask how he could help.

He ended up spending most of the afternoon spreading out cloths and runners on the tables and listening to Arthur yell. It wasn’t a good time, and he grew more and more irritated as he set up each table.

This wasn’t the Arthur he had come to see. This wasn’t the Arthur he had given up flying for. This was some arrogant prince with a chip on his shoulder, some rude and inconsiderate and self-absorbed prat. This was the Arthur Merlin had imagined when he’d first arrived in the cave and spent so long screaming pointless threats at Cenred.

After all the tables were set and garlands hung on the walls and flowers arranged and candles lit, Arthur finally stormed out of the hall. He left a man named George in charge, and Merlin went over to find out what he was actually supposed to do that evening.

George assigned him to serve the high table—the table where the royal family would be sitting. Merlin would be in charge of topping off their goblets.

He wasn’t looking forward to it. He didn’t want to be anywhere near Arthur today. He wanted to be out in nature, seeking out a breeze so he could imagine he was flying through the air.

He didn’t seem to have much of a choice, though. Nobles began to arrive shortly, men and women dressed in their best. They stood around, mingling, as servants brought around drinks. Knights came in as well, and Merlin spotted Gwaine laughing with some of the other men who had found him in the woods.

He wondered what the knights thought of Arthur. Did they actually like working under him, or did they find him as insufferable as Merlin thought they must?

Gwaine made his rounds around the hall, stopping to talk with nearly everyone, until he finally reached the high table. The royal family wasn’t there yet, so Merlin was just standing behind the chairs, watching the party go on around him.

“Gaius got you on the mend?” he asked as he approached Merlin.

Merlin held out his hands, showing that they were mostly better.

Gwaine clapped him on the back. “Good. Enjoying the feast?”

“I—”

Gwaine stopped a passing servant to take a glass off his platter. The servant continued on, and Gwaine sniffed at the glass before handing it to Merlin.

“Don’t tell,” he said with a wink.

Then he was off to talk to the next person.

Merlin sipped at the wine. It was heady, sort of fruity, and it burned a little on the way down.

He wasn’t entirely sure he liked it, but he kept taking drinks from the glass, and he did enjoy the way it made him feel warm and sort of tingly.

He was nearly done with the drink when suddenly there was a round of applause. Merlin looked around for the cause and saw Arthur and Uther and a woman he didn’t know entering the Great Hall.

They looked important. Uther was wearing a gold crown, Arthur a cloak, the woman a thin, decorative strand around her head.

Merlin finished off his wine and went to find more—for the royal family, not for himself. He barely managed to fill their goblets by the time they reached the table. Arthur’s eyes drifted over and past Merlin, still no recognition in his expression, as he took his seat on his father’s right. The woman sat on the left, and Uther stood in front of the centre chair.

He gave a short speech, welcoming his guests, encouraging continued merriment, and announcing the meal. Food was brought out all at once, and Merlin’s stomach growled as he watched everyone sit at the tables he’d help set and dig in.

Merlin hoped Gaius would have some food waiting for them back home after the feast was over. Then he spotted Gaius sitting at a table, eating with the other party-goers. He’d been properly invited. Merlin hadn’t considered it, but he realised now that Gaius was probably an important figure in the castle, being the physician the royals came to.

His looked back at the royal table, glancing at all the goblets. The woman’s was nearly empty, and Merlin went over to refill it. She didn’t acknowledge him as he did it.

Merlin wasn’t sure how he felt about this serving business. It seemed thankless and tiresome. At least Gaius was grateful when he went out to the woods to gather ingredients. The royals seemed to not even notice him or his work.

He continued filling their goblets throughout the night, the hunger in his stomach growing as more courses were served. And still, not once did anyone in the royal family even glance his way when he stepped forward to top them off.

He remembered Arthur talking about how difficult he found the expectations and responsibilities of being a prince. He remembered how Arthur had tried to distinguish himself from his father.

Here, though, Merlin could see plainly that Arthur was no better than Uther.

In a month’s time, he would turn back into a dragon and find another kingdom to live in, and he would leave Arthur and all this behind him. Arthur wasn’t worth it.

Someone came up to the table to speak with Uther, and then he clapped his hands and stood to introduce the evening’s entertainment—a renowned singer from the outskirts of the kingdom.

She wore a beautiful gown, one designed to draw attention, and she stepped up to the centre of the room as if every eye wasn’t already on her.

Her song built up slowly, engrossingly. Her voice was lovely, pitch perfect, and Merlin lost himself in it. The Great Hall grew dark, the candles dimming, the song encompassing everyone and everything.

The lyrics were strange. Merlin couldn’t make them out, but somehow they sounded familiar. They sounded like—like the spells Morgause had put over his and Arthur’s chains.

The singer was chanting a spell.

Merlin looked around, his eyes slow, and saw guests with their eyes closed, with their heads lolling down. Some were sliding down in their chairs, some were giving in and resting their heads on the tables.

The singer was putting everyone at the feast to sleep.

Merlin covered his ears with his hands, pressing as hard as he could to muffle the song.

He had to do something. He didn’t know why the singer was doing this, but it couldn’t be for any good reason. There were cobwebs growing over the sleeping guests, making it look like they’d been there for years.

The singer advanced, her eyes locked on Arthur’s drooping head. She was going to do something, something bad. Merlin looked around, trying to figure out anything he could do to stop her.

He caught sight of a wooden chandelier hanging from the ceiling. It was a great big thing, tiered and heavy. He cast around for his magic, not sure if he could use it without his hands but needing to try. He stared hard at the rope holding up the chandelier, imagining it breaking, wishing it to break, willing it to break.

It broke, and the chandelier crashed to the floor, trapping the singer underneath.

Her song stopped, and Merlin lowered his hands cautiously.

The room began to rouse, people lifting their heads, pulling off cobwebs, looking around with confused murmurs. Uther stood, mouth gaping.

“What is this?” he asked. “What happened?”

The singer stirred, the chandelier shifting as she crawled out from under it. She pulled a knife out from somewhere in her massive dress and chucked it, her aim deadly and straight on Arthur.

Merlin’s magic acted before he’d even had time to finish the thought that he should help. The knife slowed, not entirely but enough, and he threw himself at Arthur, pushing him out of the way. The knife hit the back of the chair Arthur had been in just a moment before.

Merlin and Arthur lay on the floor for a moment, tangled together, panting, in shock. Then Arthur extricated himself and stood, dusting himself off. Merlin pushed himself up and looked around. The singer had collapsed under the chandelier, and all the guests were staring at him.

Had they seen Merlin using magic? He hadn’t been thinking about the fact that magic was outlawed in Camelot. He’d only been thinking of preventing something horrible from happening. If the king had seen him—Merlin could only imagine what his fate might be.

“Who are you?” Uther demanded, rounding on Merlin. “You just saved my son’s life.”

’Again,’ Merlin thought, but then he registered that Uther wasn’t accusing him. He was grateful. He hadn’t seen the magic.

“Merlin.”

“Merlin. You must be rewarded.”

“Oh—no, I was just—”

“Nonsense,” Uther said. “You deserve it. What is your profession?”

“I have none,” Merlin said.

“Excellent,” Uther said, and Merlin thought that a very strange response. “You shall be rewarded a position in the royal household. You shall be Prince Arthur’s manservant.”

He clapped Arthur on the shoulder and went to deal with the singer.

Merlin glanced at Arthur. He was frowning, staring after his father. Merlin watched him, taking in the lines of his face, trying to find the Arthur he had known in the cave.

“Report to my chambers in the morning,” Arthur said without looking at Merlin, and then he walked away.

Merlin stayed where he was and took a deep breath, trying to take in everything that had happened over the past few minutes.

Gaius made his was over, a bit of cobweb still trailed off his hair. Merlin plucked it off for him.

“That was very brave of you,” he said. There was an undertone to his voice, but Merlin couldn’t determine what it meant. “And you’ve found a proper job.”

“It seems that way.”

Gaius offered him a smile. “Come,” he said. “You deserve supper.”

Merlin nodded, and Gaius headed out of the Great Hall. Merlin stayed behind for just a moment, just long enough to wrench the knife out of the chair. He tucked it inside his jacket and hurried to catch up with Gaius and follow him back through the castle.

“You have magic,” Gaius said as soon as they were safe in his rooms.

“No,” Merlin said quickly.

“Then how do you explain what you did back there?”

“I—luck.”

Gaius looked incredulous. “Luck? Luck.”

“Luck,” Merlin said again. “Good timing. And—”

“And magic.”

“No.”

Gaius sighed and sat down at one of his tables. He gave Merlin a long look, his expression gradually softening.

“Merlin, I’m not going to turn you into the king. I’m simply surprised. I’ve never seen anyone use magic that way—it was almost instinctual.”

Merlin paused, trying to decide if he could trust Gaius.

It didn’t seem he had much of a choice. Gaius had seen him. He couldn’t hide now.

“Yes,” he said. “It was instinct.”

Gaius nodded. “That was very dangerous, using magic in front of so many people.”

“Do you think anyone else saw?”

“Perhaps, although I doubt anyone would have recognised it for what it was. Still, you took a risk.”

“Should I have let Arthur die?” Merlin asked.

“No, of course not.” Gaius sighed and stood, coming back over. “Magic has been banned in Camelot for decades.”

“I know.”

“Then why did you come here, of all places? You could have made your home somewhere more friendly towards magic.”

Merlin didn’t have an answer to that.

Gaius accepted his silence. “Well, I think I promised you supper.”

“Yes.”

“Sit.” Gaius gestured towards a table.

Merlin sat, and Gaius served him a bowl of some sort of stew. He ate greedily, not exactly fancying the taste but also not caring. He needed to eat, and it was good enough.

When he finished, he dragged his spoon across the bottom of the bowl, drawing patterns in the last of the stew that clung there.

“Who was that woman?” he asked.

“Which?”

“The one who tried to kill Arthur.”

Gaius shrugged. “I thought she was a songstress. I thought she was a friend of Uther’s.”

“She was a sorceress.”

“It certainly seems that way.”

“Why would she try to kill Arthur?”

“I’m afraid I’ve no idea,” Gaius said. “I imagine Uther is questioning her as we speak.”

“No wonder he hates magic, if people use it against him for no reason.”

“I’m sure there is a reason. We just don’t know it yet.”

Merlin nodded and set down his spoon. “I’m to report to Arthur’s chambers in the morning. I’m sorry I won’t be able to help you with your herbs anymore.”

“It’s quite all right. I’ve managed for this long without an assistant—I shall just have to carry on managing.”

Merlin managed a smile. “Thank you for taking me in. I know you didn’t have to.”

“I’m happy to have done so. Are you finished?”

Merlin nodded, so Gaius took the bowl away.

“You must get some sleep,” he said. “You have a big day tomorrow.”

Merlin went to his room, closing the door behind him and leaning against it for a moment.

Perhaps this would be a good thing. He’d turned human in order to get close to Arthur again, and now he was going to be his servant. Maybe this was exactly what he had been hoping for.

He pulled the knife from his jacket and set it under the bed. It caught the starlight coming in from the window, and it glistened, and Merlin grinned. He had missed having a collection of properly shiny things, and this was so much better than the rocks he’d amassed in the cave.

He undressed and climbed into bed, eager to sleep off the strange night.

Merlin got directions from Gaius in the morning on how to get to Arthur’s chambers. He headed out as soon as he was dressed and ready, and he knocked on the doors when he arrived.

“Come,” was the response.

Merlin opened the door and peeked in. Arthur was standing by the windows, still in his nightclothes. He looked like he was only barely awake. Merlin wondered if he’d taken Gaius’s sleeping draught and was groggy from it or if maybe he’d been up all night, stood in that exact spot.

He turned to look at Merlin, and it took a moment for recognition to settle on his features.

“Merlin, was it?” he asked.

“Yes.” Merlin stepped in.

“You were the one in the woods? From Essetir?”

“Yes.”

“Mm.” Arthur looked back out the window. Merlin stayed by the doors, not sure what he was supposed to be doing, if anything. Finally, Arthur turned to him again. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

Arthur’s mouth went thin. “Make my bed,” he said. “My clothes need washing. You’re late, so I’ll dress myself today, but tomorrow you need to be here earlier for it.”

“Oh, I… all right.” Merlin looked around the room.

There was a bed to one side, but it looked like it hadn’t actually been slept in. Merlin went over to it and pulled at the covers, straightening them out. He collected the clothes that were heaped on the floor and started for the door.

“There’s a basket,” Arthur said.

“What?”

“Behind the screen.”

Merlin looked around again. There was a screen in the corner, and behind it a basket filled with even more clothes. Merlin dumped the ones he was holding into it and picked it up.

Arthur had gone back to staring out the window, so Merlin left, closing the door behind him.

That hadn’t gone exactly well. Merlin wanted to talk to Arthur, to spend time with him. He didn’t want to run around doing chores all day. He was finding that he really hated being told what to do. At least Gaius had been nice about it and made Merlin feel like he was really helping someone who needed it. Arthur was just barking orders—he didn’t care about Merlin at all.

Merlin looked down at the basket in his hands and sighed. He had no idea how he was going to wash so many clothes in the tiny bucket Gaius had. And he still didn’t have anywhere to hang them up to dry. He was going to have to use his magic on every piece.

Merlin brought the basket to Gaius’s, and Gaius looked up from his work, clearly surprised to see Merlin.

“Did you need something?” he asked.

Merlin held up the basket. “Arthur’s clothes need washing.”

“Well, you can’t do that here,” Gaius said.

“Oh.” Merlin looked back down at the pile of clothes, feeling useless and lost.

Gaius stood and came over. “If you you go down to the kitchens, out back, that’s where the laundry is done. They can help you.”

Merlin looked up. “How do I get to the kitchens?”

Gaius gave him a kind smile and instructions. Still feeling dispirited, Merlin headed back out and through the castle. He didn’t know if he could do this for an entire month.

He reached the kitchens and went out the back door, and there was a group of women standing around large, bubbling tubs.

“Excuse me,” he said to the nearest one.

The woman looked up at him. She was young, pretty, dark-skinned, with curly hair and a friendly smile.

“Yes?” she asked.

“I’m meant to wash Prince Arthur’s clothing,” he said. “I’m not sure how.”

“You’re not sure how?”

Merlin shook his head. “No.”

“Well, it’s the same as washing your own.”

Merlin looked down at his clothes. All he’d done was soaked them in water and used his magic to dry them. Whatever these women were doing looked much more complicated.

“I’ll show you,” the woman said kindly. “I’m Gwen, by the way.”

“Merlin.”

Gwen helped him separate the different kinds of fabric in Arthur’s basket and put some of them into a tub.

“I saw what you did at the feast last night,” she said as she started scrubbing the clothes she was washing against a bumped board. Merlin found another board leaning against the tub and put it in so he could scrub Arthur’s. “It was very brave of you.”

“Thank you,” Merlin said quietly. He wondered if this was going to go the same way the conversation with Gaius had gone. Maybe Gwen had seen him use his magic as well.

“To think Arthur could have gotten hit with that knife,” Gwen said. “It would have been awful.”

Merlin scrubbed one of Arthur’s shirts harder. It didn’t seem like Gwen had noticed anything about his magic from the night before.

“And in front of so many people,” she continued. “Just awful. It’s so lucky you were there.”

“I suppose it was.” Merlin pulled out the shirt and started wringing it.

Gwen brought him over to the clothesline and showed him where to hang up Arthur’s shirt. Then he returned back to the tub to continue washing the rest.

“What sort of work do you do in the castle?” Merlin asked. “Do you wash all the clothes?”

“Oh, no,” Gwen said. “I’m Lady Morgana’s maid.”

“Is that the woman who sat at the high table last night?” Merlin asked.

“Yes.” Gwen looked over at him. “Are you new to Camelot?”

“Very new,” Merlin said.

“Well, Lady Morgana is King Uther’s ward. He treats her like family, same as Prince Arthur. Well, maybe not exactly like Prince Arthur.”

Merlin finished another shirt and went to hang it up. When he came back to the tub, Gwen was wiping off her hands.

“Finished?” Merlin asked.

“I am.” Gwen flashed him a smile. “It was nice meeting you, Merlin. I hope I’ll see you around.”

She went back into the castle, and Merlin went back to washing Arthur’s clothes. It took ages, and his fingertips started getting wrinkly and his shoulders started to hurt from all the scrubbing, but eventually everything was washed and hung up.

Merlin wasn’t sure how long the clothes would take to dry or whether he was meant to sit out here and wait for that to happen.

That did seem a bit silly, so he decided to go back to Arthur’s chambers.

This time, he found him at his desk, reading over something. He looked up when Merlin came in and frowned.

“Where’s my lunch?” he asked.

“Lunch,” Merlin repeated.

Arthur sighed. “You’re meant to bring me my lunch from the kitchens.”

“Oh. Right. I’ll… go do that.”

Merlin left Arthur’s chambers again, wondering if he’d ever get a proper moment alone with him or if he was going to spend all his time running around doing errands that he hated with no thanks to be had.

Luckily, he found out he didn’t have to cook Arthur’s lunch, although he did have to assemble it from the variety of foods available. He picked out some meat and some bread and some fruit and hoped that would do.

When he set the platter down on Arthur’s desk, Arthur barely acknowledged him. He just shifted papers around on his desk to make room.

Rather than wait to be told some other inane thing to do, Merlin left and went to check on Arthur’s clothes. They were nearly all the way dry, so he waited around a bit, watching the other servants washing other clothes.

When Arthur’s clothes were ready, Merlin heaped them back into the basket and brought them up to Arthur’s chambers.

“What’s that?” Arthur asked from where he was still at his desk.

“Your clothes,” Merlin said.

Arthur stood and came over. He untangled a shirt from the pile, glaring at Merlin.

“You’re meant to fold these nicely,” he said. “You’ll be washing these again if there are any wrinkles.” He went back over to his desk. “Put them away.”

“Where?” Merlin asked.

Looking supremely annoyed, Arthur pointed at a wardrobe. Merlin opened it to find more of Arthur’s clothes, all neatly hung up. He started putting away the freshly cleaned clothes, struggling with the hangers but managing to figure it out, and eventually everything was in its rightful place. He put the basket behind the screen and went over to Arthur’s desk to get his next assignment, feeling a little more confident in his abilities.

“You know, you’re quite useless,” Arthur said without looking up from his papers.

Merlin deflated.

“Go find something else to do. Don’t forget to bring me supper later.”

“You have no business treating me like that,” Merlin said. “I did save your life, you know.”

Arthur’s looked up. “Oh yeah?” His smile wasn’t kind.

“You could show a hint of gratitude.”

Arthur tilted his head, considering Merlin. Then, saying nothing, he went back to his paperwork.

Merlin rolled his eyes and left.

Maybe if he went back to the Isle of the Blessed, Nimueh would turn him back into a dragon before his month was up.

But she had laughed so rudely at him. He didn’t want to have to admit that things weren’t working out the way he’d hoped.

Merlin went to the kitchens and watched the cooks preparing supper. It looked like hard, sweaty work, but everything they were doing smelled incredible, and Merlin’s stomach was growling by the time he was meant to collect Arthur’s food.

He brought the platter up to Arthur’s chambers and found him standing by the windows again, looking weary. He set the supper down on the room’s main table, and Arthur glanced over his shoulder.

“Turn down my bed,” he said. “Then you can be done for the day.”

Merlin took a guess as to what that meant and went to pull the covers back on the bed. It felt a little futile, knowing what he knew about Arthur’s sleeping habits.

“Don’t forget my lunch plate,” Arthur said when Merlin was nearly at the door.

“What?”

“My lunch plate,” Arthur said, pointing at his desk. “Take it back to the kitchens.”

Merlin grabbed the platter off the desk and hurried out, not wanting to be given another task. He started for the kitchens, ready to be done with the day, but slowed as he approached. The platter in his hands was awfully shiny. It had glistened in the sunlight coming in through the windows when he’d brought it to Arthur earlier. And now torchlight was bouncing off it.

Merlin turned around and went to Gaius’s instead.

He found Gaius at his workbench, and Merlin hid the platter behind his back as he walked past him and into his room. He slid the platter under his bed and set the knife from the previous night on top of it.

“Merlin?” Gaius called out.

Merlin hurried back out to the main room where Gaius was setting up supper for them.

“How was your first day?” Gaius asked as they sat down to eat.

Merlin wasn’t sure how to describe it. It had been frustrating and not anything like he had expected. Although, he supposed he shouldn’t have been expecting much. Being a servant was a real job with real responsibility and expectations. It wasn’t as if he could do what he pleased at any time like he’d been able to do when he was a dragon.

“I spoke with the king,” Gaius said when Merlin didn’t respond to his question. “The singer was from the outskirts of Camelot, right on the border with Essetir. It seemed she’d fallen in with Cenred before he died, and she came to enact revenge.”

“Oh,” Merlin said. “But Arthur didn’t kill Cenred.”

“How do you know how Cenred died?”

“I—” Merlin shoved some food in his mouth to give himself time to think. “I just heard,” he said.

“Yes, well.” Gaius considered him for a moment. “The war was over before it really started, you know. You probably could have stayed in Essetir and continued making charcoal.”

Merlin shook his head. “No, I was ready for a change.”

“You know,” Gaius said slowly, “the reason Cenred was such an enemy of Camelot’s was because he aligned himself with magic users.”

Merlin hurried to fill his mouth with more food.

“He was killed alongside one such woman, and it seems another came here just yesterday to kill Arthur.”

Merlin nodded as he chewed.

“I have to ask, Merlin,” Gaius said. “Were you in the employ of King Cenred?”

“No,” Merlin said quickly. “I would never. Cenred—he wasn’t a good man.”

Gaius gave him a long look. “All right,” he said eventually. “I suppose if you had been, you wouldn’t have saved Arthur’s life.”

“No.”

“Still, I have to assume the charcoal thing is a lie, and that you made your living off your magic.”

“You could put it like that,” Merlin said.

Gaius nodded. “Well, your secret’s safe with me. Eat up.”

Merlin finished his supper and spent the rest of the evening studying his alphabet book.

When it was time to go to sleep, he went to his room and undressed before kneeling next to his bed and looking under it to admire his growing collection. The platter and the knife were shining in the moonlight, and they were beautiful.

He brushed his fingertips over them, over the spots that glistened most, and then he got into his bed and drifted off to thoughts of flying, free, through the night air.

Arthur was in a shouty mood the next day. He shouted at Merlin for being late again, shouted at him for picking out the wrong clothes for him to wear, shouted at him for not bringing lunch on time, shouted at him for not polishing his armour well enough, shouted at him for not knowing how to read and therefore being unable to help him memorise a speech, shouted at him for yawning, and shouted at him for forgetting to turn down his bed at the end of the day.

Merlin was losing his patience, which he had very little of to begin with. Arthur was a monster. He wasn’t only just shouting at Merlin, either. Merlin heard him yell at other servants, at the guards, and at his knights. He was in a foul state all day, and everyone around him suffered for it.

Merlin was nearly free for the day, after having turned down the bed at Arthur’s demand, and had made it all the way to door before Arthur called out to him for one last thing.

“You live with Gaius, yes?” Arthur asked. He was standing by the windows, looking out over the courtyard, dressed in his nightclothes. He’d shouted at Merlin while getting changed into those, too.

“Yes,” Merlin said warily. He wasn’t in the mood for a civil conversation. He just wanted to get home and sleep off the unpleasant day.

“Go to him,” Arthur said. “Tell him to make me a sleeping draught and bring it back to me.”

“Now?”

Arthur turned to glare at him. “Yes, now.”

Merlin ducked out of his chambers before he could start shouting again. He hurried along the corridors back to Gaius’s, eager to get this last task over and done with.

“Ah,” Gaius said when he came in. “Just in time for supper.”

“I can’t stay,” Merlin said. “Arthur needs a sleeping draught.”

“Again?”

Merlin shrugged. Gaius looked concerned, but he said nothing else on the matter.

“Sit and eat while I prepare it,” he said, going over to his workbench.

Merlin hurried to scarf down Gaius’s stew.

“Here,” Gaius said when the potion was ready. He handed over a small vial. “Remind him not to take the whole thing all at once. A few drops should do it.”

“Isn’t there anything else that can be done?” Merlin asked. “People need sleep, don’t they?”

“Yes. But there is only so much medicine can do for a troubled mind.”

“You think there’s something wrong with his mind?”

“Not wrong,” Gaius said. “He just hasn’t been quite the same since he got back from being held captive by Cenred. I can only imagine what Cenred might have done to him. He might have been tortured.”

Merlin knew perfectly well no such thing had happened.

Still, he knew being in the cave wasn’t easy. It had changed Merlin in a way. It must have changed Arthur as well, even despite his short stay.

Merlin took the remedy to Arthur, who was still standing by the windows.

“Gaius said not to take it all at once,” Merlin said as he handed it over. “Only a few—”

Arthur uncorked it and downed half of it in one go.

“Drops,” Merlin finished. “Well.”

“You are dismissed,” Arthur said.

“Are you going to bed?” Merlin asked.

Arthur said nothing, did nothing to acknowledge Merlin’s question. He just stayed where he was, standing by the windows, giving no indication he had any intent of getting into his bed.

Merlin wanted to help him, wanted him to stop being so miserable so there might be a chance of seeing the Arthur he had come to know and love again, but he didn’t know what to do.

“Goodnight,” he said quietly and let himself out.

He walked slowly back to Gaius’s, wondering if the Arthur he had known in the cave even existed outside of it. Maybe the Arthur in Camelot had always been this cruel, and the sleep deprivation was only bringing it out more. Maybe the Arthur in Camelot had always been a hopeless case.

Merlin made a detour to the kitchens and picked up a silver goblet as casually as he could. It was freshly washed, every surface gleaming, and he took it up to his room to add to the collection under his bed, hoping it wouldn’t be missed.

In the morning, on his third day of being Arthur’s servant, Merlin finally woke up early enough to get to Arthur’s chambers to help him get dressed for the day.

He found Arthur sitting at his desk, his chair turned towards the windows, looking utterly wretched. He had bags under his eyes, his hair looked like he’d been running his hands through it all night, and his skin looked too loose.

His bed was untouched.

Merlin supposed it was too much to hope he’d somehow slept in his chair.

“Good morning,” Merlin said, trying to sound upbeat. “Did you sleep well?”

Arthur said nothing, just stood and waited for Merlin to bring him clothes.

Merlin grabbed an outfit out of the wardrobe and helped Arthur into it. Arthur was compliant, almost mindless in his movements as he slipped into the clothes.

“Are these the right clothes this time?” Merlin asked once he was dressed.

Arthur glanced down at himself. “These are fine.” He looked up at Merlin. “You really don’t know the first thing about being a servant, do you?”

“No. But I’m learning.”

Arthur looked like he was going to protest that last statement, but he seemed to think better of it. Or perhaps he was simply too tired to argue.

“I have council meetings today,” he said. “You’ll scrub the floors while I’m gone.”

Merlin thought that sounded like very unpleasant work. “Where do I get water from?” he asked.

“Do I know?” Arthur rolled his eyes and left.

Merlin sighed and looked around, hoping a bucket might appear. There was nothing, of course, so he went down to the kitchens and out the back of the castle. Gwen was there, washing what looked to be bedsheets.

“Merlin,” she said happily as he approached. “How are you?”

“A little lost,” Merlin said. “I’m meant to scrub Arthur’s floors. Do you know where I can get water?”

“Oh, that’s not fun,” Gwen said sympathetically. She did point him in the direction of the buckets, though, and a pile of brushes.

Merlin returned to Arthur’s chambers and got down on all fours to scrub.

He was right—it was very unpleasant work. His back started hurting before he’d barely made a dent in the amount of scrubbing to be done.

“This is miserable,” Merlin muttered to himself as he straightened up to stretch out his back. He looked around the room, at the expanse of dirty floor, and shook his head. “No,” he decided. This wasn’t suitable work for him. This wasn’t suitable work for anyone.

He stood and held the brush in his hands, willing it to move on its own. It dipped itself gracefully into the bucket and started scrubbing a fresh section of the floor.

Merlin grinned as he stood and watched the brush clean the floor for him. All he had to do was stand guard by the doors and make sure no one came in and saw him using magic.

It took a while for the floors to be properly clean, but eventually they looked shiny and new. The brush had even gotten under the bed and the desk. And no one had interrupted and caught Merlin’s magic at work.

Merlin took the bucket and brush back outside and found Gwen hanging up Lady Morgana’s sheets.

“All done?” Gwen asked with a grin. “You look a lot better than I do after a floor scrub.”

Merlin gave an innocent shrug. “Can I ask you something?”

“Oh, anything.”

“Arthur said he’s in council meetings all day. Am I still supposed to bring him his lunch?”

“No,” Gwen said. “Usually they skip lunch if it’s a long meeting. Just be sure to bring him an extra serving of supper or he’ll be even more cross than he usually is.”

“Has he always been so unpleasant?” Merlin asked.

“No, actually. It seems to be a recent development.” Gwen clipped up the last corner of the sheet. “Don’t let him get to you. I’m sure you’re doing a really good job.”

Merlin smiled his thanks and waved as she went back into the castle.

Supper wouldn’t be for another few hours, and Merlin decided to go back to Gaius’s. Gaius was out, probably delivering remedies to his patients, so Merlin spent a while studying his alphabet book. He opened up the book of herbs as well and tried to sound out the names of different plants.

Some he could get once he recognised the word, but others stumped him. Too many of the plants had horribly long names that he couldn’t get through. He’d get lost by the third syllable and have to start at the beginning again.

The smaller words on the pages, the descriptions of the herbs, were a little easier. He managed words like ‘found’ and ‘leaves’ and ‘flowers’.

It was hard, slow work, but every time he was able to read a new word, Merlin felt a little shock of pride. He wasn’t quite managing sentences, but he would get there.

Gaius returned at some point and asked Merlin why he wasn’t off serving Arthur.

“I finished scrubbing the floors,” Merlin said. “I don’t think I’m needed until supper.”

“It’s almost that time.” Gaius came over to where Merlin was sitting with the books. “How are you managing?”

“What’s this say?”

“Dandelion.”

“Oh. Right.” Merlin thought he should have been able to get that one. He closed the books and stood. “I’d better go get Arthur’s supper.”

“I’ll set out bathwater for you when you get back,” Gaius said. “Floor scrubbing is sweaty work.”

Merlin grinned and nodded his thanks before heading down to the kitchens. He heaped food onto a platter, picking out more than he thought one person could eat, and then brought it up to Arthur’s chambers.

He found Arthur sitting at his table, head lolling back against the chair. His eyes were closed, his mouth open and slack.

Merlin paused in the doorway, not sure what to do. Arthur needed sleep. But he also needed food. And the chair couldn’t possibly be comfortable. He needed proper sleep in a proper bed.

Merlin stepped into the room and the door swung shut behind him. Arthur jumped at the sound.

“Sorry,” Merlin said. He set the platter down. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Arthur murmured something in response and pulled the platter closer. He took a few bites of the chicken before putting it down and slumping, rest his head in his hand and his elbow on the table. He looked truly exhausted.

“Should I turn down your bed?” Merlin asked.

“Why bother?”

Merlin turned it down anyway. He fluffed the pillows as well, trying to make it look as tempting as possible.

“You may go,” Arthur said once Merlin was done.

“Would it help if I stayed?”

“Help what?” Arthur asked. He took a half-hearted bite of his meal.

“Help you sleep.”

Arthur frowned. “What makes you think I need help sleeping?”

“Well…” Merlin wasn’t sure what to say. He hadn’t thought it was a secret.

“Do what you like,” Arthur muttered.

Merlin decided to stay at least until it was time for Arthur to get into his nightclothes.

Arthur ate slowly, sampling everything on his plate but not eating all of it. Finally, he shoved the platter away and stood.

Merlin helped him out of his clothes, dropping them into the basket behind the screen. Arthur got himself into his nightclothes and took up his spot by the windows. He crossed his arms, leaned against the wall, and looked out over the courtyard.

Merlin took Arthur’s platter back down to the kitchens, helping himself to the leftovers along the way, and then went back up to Arthur’s chambers. Arthur hadn’t moved.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Merlin asked.

Arthur said nothing. Merlin took a seat at the table and watched Arthur watching the courtyard.

That went on for what felt like hours. Every once in a while, Arthur’s head would drop down, but it would immediately spring up again, and he’d go back to looking out the window.

Merlin wished he would at least lie down.

“Should I put out the candles?” he asked at some point.

Arthur shrugged. Merlin went around the room, putting out the candles, leaving them in darkness except for the starlight coming in through the windows.

Merlin sat back down and finally drifted off as the sky started to lighten.

When Merlin woke, he found Arthur dressing himself behind the screen.

“Sorry,” he said, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat. “Did you sleep?”

Arthur said nothing, just came out from behind the screen. Merlin helped him finish getting ready for the day. Arthur moved slowly, heavily, and it was clear he hadn’t slept again. Merlin staying up to keep him company had done nothing except make Merlin tired.

Arthur doled out instructions for the day before leaving for a training session with his knights.

Merlin hurried to run around and complete his duties early so he could go back to Gaius’s for a nap.

“Where were you?” Gaius asked when Merlin came in.

“Arthur’s,” Merlin said. “I thought maybe he’d like company if he’s not going to sleep.”

“He’s still not sleeping?”

“No, and now neither am I,” Merlin said around a yawn.

Gaius shook his head. “Sleep is important, Merlin.”

“I know. I’m going for a quick nap.” He hurried up the back stairs and into his room. His bed looked incredible, and he fell into it immediately, not even bothering to pull down the covers.

Merlin only barely woke back up in time to bring Arthur his lunch. He found Arthur sitting at his desk, staring blankly ahead.

“When was the last time you slept?” he asked as he set down the platter. “Does Gaius’s potion not help?”

Arthur just reached for his plate and dug into his lunch. Afterwards, he requested a bath, which turned out to be much more of an ordeal than Merlin had anticipated. He had to enlist the help of other servants to bring in the tub and bring up hot water from the kitchens and start a fire to keep the tub warm, but eventually it was ready and the other servants excused themselves, leaving Merlin alone with Arthur.

Arthur wasted no time in undressing himself. Merlin wasn’t sure where to look or what he was supposed to be doing, so he just watched. Arthur’s body was muscular, broad in the chest and the shoulders, and the expanse of his skin was an appealing peachy sort of colour. His cock hung between his legs, coming out from a base of hair an even lighter colour than that on his head.

He sank slowly into the bath, sighing as he went in deeper and deeper until he was sitting, up to his neck in the warm water. He rested his head against the rim of the tub, his eyes closed, and Merlin watched as he fell asleep. His face went slack, his mouth dropped open, his arms hung limply at his sides.

Merlin walked quietly over to the table and sat down, keeping watch over Arthur in case he slipped further into the tub in his sleep.

It took a long while, but Arthur eventually startled himself awake, jerking in the water. He looked around wildly, not quite aware of his surroundings, and spotted Merlin. They stared at each other for a moment, and then Arthur turned back around and asked for a brush.

Merlin got up to hand it over. Arthur washed himself, scrubbing his skin so hard it turned even more pink, and then stood. Water dripped off him, rolling over his muscles, trailing lines down his body. The sun, low in the sky, shone through the window behind him and nearly made him glow.

“Towel,” he said, and Merlin hurried to fetch one. “Did you sleep?” he asked, stepping out of the tub.

“For a bit before lunch.”

“Not just now?”

“I wanted to make sure you didn’t drown.”

Arthur smirked and started drying himself off. Merlin went to fetch him clothes for the rest of the day. Once he was dressed, he left, entrusting Merlin to deal with the tub.

By the time Arthur came back, Merlin was definitely feeling the lack of sleep. He wanted to stay up another night with Arthur, though. He wanted to see if he could help, if he could somehow make Arthur comfortable enough to sleep around him again, the way he’d done in the cave.

Arthur spent his evening at his desk, studying maps and jotting down notes. Merlin sat at the table and struggled to keep his eyes open as the sky grew dark.

“You can go,” Arthur said at some point.

“I’ll stay.”

Arthur sighed and set down his quill. “Make yourself useful, then.”

“How should I do that?”

Arthur leaned back in his chair and considered Merlin for a long moment. “Tell me about something. Your life before Camelot. You came from Essetir, yes?”

“Yes, I…” Merlin trailed off, hesitant to say anything else.

“What did you do there?”

“I was a charcoal maker.”

“Any family?” Arthur asked.

“No. Well… no.” Merlin tried to come up with something he could share that wouldn’t sound false. “I had a mother,” he said. “She… we lived in a village.”

“Which?”

“You wouldn’t have heard of it. It was small. Too small. That’s why I left.”

“And then you became a charcoal maker?” Arthur asked.

“Yes.”

“And you had to flee Essetir because of the war?”

“I…” Merlin licked his lips, trying to piece together a story that would make sense.

“I’m sorry,” Arthur said after Merlin was quiet for a few seconds. “I can see you don’t like talking about it.”

“No.”

“That’s all right. We don’t have to talk.”

“I like talking,” Merlin said. “It’s better than silence.”

“I’ve grown quite used to silence.”

“Have you always made it a habit to stay up all night?”

Arthur frowned and looked down at his desk. “No.”

He didn’t seem to want to elaborate, so Merlin cast around for anything else to talk about.

“Did you grow up in this castle?”

Arthur looked back up. “Yes. I’ve lived here my entire life.”

“Does that get boring?”

“Yes.”

“Has your family always lived here?”

Arthur sighed. “No, my father took it when he conquered Camelot. Would you like my entire family history? Perhaps I can tell you about how my mother died?”

“No, I already know—” Merlin paused, realising he was giving himself away. “I heard from Gaius…”

“Maybe we should go back to the silence.”

Merlin pursed his lips. This wasn’t going well, and Arthur’s mood was starting to turn.

“Put out the candles,” Arthur said.

Merlin did so while Arthur changed himself into his nightclothes, and then he took up his place at his desk again. He turned his chair around, propped his feet up on the windowsill, and crossed his arms as he gazed outside.

Merlin went back to the table and rested his head on the table, allowing himself to drift off.

Merlin woke up with a horrible pain in his neck, and he sat up with a groan. The sun was up—he’d slept over the table for hours. He rolled his head around, trying to stretch his muscles and ease the ache at the bottom of his head.

“Morning,” Arthur said.

Merlin looked around to see Arthur emerging from behind the screen, already dressed for the day.

“You should have woken me up,” Merlin said, standing. His back hurt, too, and he tried to stretch that out as well.

“You needed sleep.”

“You need sleep, too.”

Arthur ignored that and started giving Merlin his tasks for the day. It was mostly polishing armour, which Merlin thought didn’t sound so bad. He liked armour. He liked the way it shined when it was polished.

He went down to the armoury and found a store of oil to use. He polished every piece he could find—arm pieces, leg pieces, chest pieces, neck pieces, shoulder pieces, back pieces, head pieces. He didn’t know the names of most of them, but he could still appreciate how they all glowed in the sunlight after a good rubbing.

He missed bringing Arthur lunch, too distracted by the task at hand, but he managed to get to the kitchens in time to sort out Arthur’s supper.

Naturally, Arthur was in a foul mood when Merlin arrived. He didn’t say anything, though, just pointedly refused to acknowledge Merlin, even when Merlin tried to offer an apology.

Deciding he didn’t want to be around Arthur with that kind of energy, Merlin went back to Gaius’s to have his own supper.

“Will you be sleeping here tonight?” Gaius asked as they ate.

Merlin shrugged. “Might as well. I don’t think me staying up with Arthur is helping him.”

“I’m sure he appreciated you trying.”

Merlin snorted. “Yeah, he’s been very grateful.”

“He’s not so bad, you know. When he gets sleep, he’s usually a very thoughtful, respectful young man.”

“I’m sure.”

Gaius just smiled and went back to his food. After they finished eating, Gaius helped Merlin with his reading practice until the sun went down.

Merlin went to Arthur’s chambers to collect his supper plate and found Arthur already dressed for bed. He was in his spot by the windows, looking down at the courtyard.

His dagger was in his hands—the one Merlin had forged in the cave.

Merlin’s chest seized at the sight, his stomach heavy and his throat tight.

Arthur turned to look at him. “Staying the night?” he asked. It almost sounded like he wanted Merlin to.

“I… came to collect your plate.”

“Oh.” Arthur turned back to the window.

“What’s that?” Merlin asked as he picked up the plate.

“Hm?”

“In your hands.”

Arthur looked down at the dagger. He turned it over idly but said nothing.

Merlin hurried to take the plate down to the kitchens and return to Arthur’s room. Arthur was still standing by the windows, still fiddling with the dagger.

“It’s a nice dagger,” Merlin said as he sat at the table. “Have you had it long?”

“Long enough.” Arthur turned and walked over to the table, setting the dagger down and sliding it over to Merlin.

Merlin picked it up carefully. He could feel the magic within it, singing, practically radiating off it. He wondered if Arthur could feel it too, or if Merlin only could because it was his magic that had made it.

“It’s beautiful,” he said, admiring the fine detailing of the hilt. He slid it back over, but Arthur let it rest on the table. He sat opposite Merlin, giving him a long look.

“Why do you stay up with me?”

“I—I just want to help.”

“You think being here with me will help somehow?”

“Doesn’t seem like it’s hurting, at least.”

“No,” Arthur agreed. He sighed and traced his fingers along the dagger’s blade. “Do you know anything about dragons?”

Merlin was startled at the question. He couldn’t think of how to respond. He knew about dragons very much, of course, but he wasn’t sure if a charcoal maker from Essetir would have anything but a passing knowledge.

“I met one recently,” Arthur said when Merlin didn’t respond. “Your voice reminds me of his.”

Merlin’s jaw clenched. He hadn’t thought about that, but of course his voice hadn’t changed during his transformation to human. Of course he sounded the same. Of course Arthur would notice.

He didn’t know what to say. Everything he could think of sounded like an admission.

“I never got his name,” Arthur said, voice low as if he were only talking to himself.

Merlin swallowed with difficulty. “Where did you meet him?”

There was a long silence before Arthur answered.

“I was on a mission to kill Cenred, and he captured me. He put me in this cavern under his castle, this great big hole in the earth, and he had a dragon down there, too.”

“Why?” Merlin heard himself ask.

“Because he thought it reflected well on him to have captured the beast. It’s not every man who can claim they’ve done so.”

“That seems cruel.”

“Cenred wasn’t a good man.”

Merlin remembered how Arthur had insinuated that Uther would have killed Merlin if he’d been the one to capture him as a dragon. He wanted to bring that up, to point out that Arthur’s family wasn’t all that great either, that maybe Arthur himself wasn’t as good as he seemed to think he was. But he couldn’t bring it up without revealing himself.

Instead, he said, “It must have been hard, being stuck in a cave.”

Arthur shrugged. “At first, I thought I was going to die by the dragon. I was convinced he was going to eat me at any moment. I couldn’t—I didn’t sleep because I wanted to keep an eye on him.”

“Dragons don’t typically eat humans,” Merlin said.

“I know that now.” Arthur picked up the dagger and held it close to his face, as if he were looking at his reflection in it. “I also thought Cenred might come and kill me. Then I thought my father was going to abandon me down there. I figured I’d die of starvation. Basically, I thought I was a dead man any way you looked at it.”

“Sounds very bleak.”

“It wasn’t the happiest I’ve ever been, that’s for sure.” Arthur set the dagger down. “I might… if you wouldn’t mind staying, I might try to get some rest.”

“Of course,” Merlin said quickly. He got up and turned down Arthur’s bed, and Arthur got under the covers. “Should I put out the candles?”

Arthur nodded, so Merlin went around the room, snuffing them all out, and by the time he went back to check, Arthur was already asleep.

Merlin went back to the table and sat by the dagger, watching it shine in the moonlight. He crossed his arms over it, laid his head down, and went to sleep.

Merlin woke up first in the morning. He stood from the table and stretched out, his body stiff and sore from not sleeping in a proper bed.

He was thinking of maybe leaving Arthur to sleep away the rest of the morning, but then Arthur stirred.

He woke slowly, frowning into his pillow, and then he opened his eyes. He looked around, gaze landing on Merlin.

“Good morning,” Merlin said. He couldn’t stop himself from grinning. It had worked—Arthur had finally gotten some sleep.

Arthur murmured something in response and put his head back on his pillow. He lay there for a minute or two, and then he sat up with a sigh.

“Don’t suppose I could trouble you for breakfast?” he sat as he got out of bed.

“I’m on it,” Merlin said, and he left to go to the kitchens.

When he came back to Arthur’s chambers, the dagger was no longer on the table. Arthur had put it away wherever he kept it, which was a shame. Merlin had liked looking at it, had liked the reminder of their time together in the cave, had liked the way Arthur touched it so gently.

Arthur only ate half his food, and then Merlin helped him dress, and then he was off for the day to do his princely duties. Merlin helped himself to Arthur’s leftovers and took the platter and Arthur’s goblet back to Gaius’s to hide under his bed.

That night, Merlin had supper with Gaius before retiring to Arthur’s chambers. He helped Arthur into his nightclothes and into bed, but Arthur propped himself up against his pillows rather than lay down.

“Tell me,” he said, “do you like being a servant?”

Merlin pulled the covers over Arthur’s lap. “Not really.”

“Being a charcoal maker was better?”

“Being free to do as I please was better.”

“I can imagine.” Arthur shifted, wiggling back into his pillows until he was comfortable. “Or, I can’t, rather, but it’s a nice concept to think about.”

“Do you wish you weren’t a prince?” Merlin asked. He leaned back against the nearest windowsill, watching Arthur consider the question.

“It’s more complicated than that,” he finally said.

“Why?”

“I don’t think I know you quite well enough to say.”

Merlin couldn’t argue the point. “What do you do all day, anyway?” he asked. “If it’s not what you please.”

“Meetings,” Arthur said with a sigh. “Hearing petitioners. Training my knights. Going on patrols.”

“What would you like to be doing instead?”

Arthur looked down at his hands, which were resting on top of his covers. “Lately, I’ve been trying to think of where that dragon might be. I know he got out of the cave, I just don’t know where he went. I’d like to find him, to thank him, to see him again.”

Merlin felt a warm sort of tingling sensation all over. That must be why he’d seen Arthur studying maps.

“What was he like?” Merlin asked.

Arthur leaned his head back on his pillow, looking up at the canopy over his bed. “He was kinder than I deserved. He was generous. He was… caring. He had these golden eyes…” Arthur shook his head. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget them. The way he looked at me when he set me free…”

Merlin didn’t know what to say. It was strange, hearing himself talked about that way. And it was wonderful, knowing that he’d had as much of an impact on Arthur as Arthur had had on him.

“I just wish I could have set him free,” Arthur said, “or done something to repay him.” Arthur sighed and slipped further under the covers, properly laying down. “I just hope he’s out there somewhere, free and enjoying it. I hope he’s forgotten all about the cave.”

“It seems it’s a hard thing to forget.”

“Yes. Well.” Arthur turned onto his side, facing away. “Goodnight, Merlin.”

“Goodnight,” Merlin said. He put out all the candles and took up his usual spot at the table.

He didn’t fall asleep right away, though. He stayed awake, watching Arthur sleep, trying to piece together the puzzle that was Arthur Pendragon. He was so much more tolerable now that he was sleeping again. He wasn’t shouting anymore, wasn’t tense and terse. He was thoughtful, like Gaius had said. He was practically a different person entirely.

And he seemed almost haunted by the memory of Merlin as a dragon.

Merlin wished he could ease Arthur’s thoughts, assure him that the dragon was doing well, but in the end there was nothing he could say. He would just have to listen, and that would have to be enough.

Arthur was quiet in the morning, but not in his usual exhausted way. He seemed happy, as if he were content to just be. He let Merlin dress him, and then he went to the council meeting, leaving Merlin to decide his own daily chores.

Merlin grabbed the basket of dirty clothes from behind Arthur’s screen and went down to the kitchens and out the back of the castle to wash them.

Gwen was there, and he joined her at her tub, dumping in some of Arthur’s clothes and grabbing a scrubbing board.

“I saw Arthur yesterday,” Gwen said as she squeezed the water out of a dress. “He seemed to be in a much better mood than I’ve seen lately.”

“Yes, he seems to be improving.”

Gwen gave him a smile that made it very obvious she knew exactly why Arthur’s mood had improved. Merlin looked away, down at the tub, and started scrubbing at Arthur’s trousers.

How did she know? Had Gaius told her? Merlin hadn’t mentioned to anyone else where he was spending his nights.

Maybe the guards stationed outside Arthur’s rooms had let slip that Arthur now had nighttime company.

Something in Gwen’s smile made Merlin feel strange about it. He hadn’t necessarily meant to keep it a secret, but now that he was confronted with it, he wanted to keep it private. It wasn’t anyone’s business how or where he spent his nights. It wasn’t anyone’s business why Arthur’s moods were improving.

Gwen went to hang up her clothes, and when she came back she said, “I think it’ll rain later. Better hurry up and get those on the line. Arthur won’t be pleased if his clothes get rained on.”

Merlin didn’t think that was true, but he moved quickly anyway, scrubbing all of Arthur’s clothes and hanging them up. The sky did look a little foreboding. It was grey, and the air had that particular smell to it that could only mean a storm was on the way.

Luckily, Merlin was able to collect Arthur’s dry clothes from the line before the skies opened up.

He brought Arthur lunch, and when he wasn’t given any instructions for the afternoon, he went to Gaius’s to wash himself and his own clothes.

Afterwards, Merlin practised his reading to the sound of the rain coming down, and it turned out to be a very pleasant afternoon. It felt sort of cosy, being dry and safe inside while the world outside got soaked.

Gaius gave him a quick meal, and then Merlin was off again to deliver Arthur’s supper.

“What did you do today?” Arthur asked as he pulled a piece off the chunk of bread on his plate.

“I did the washing,” Merlin said.

“And?”

“And… well, I…”

Arthur flashed him a smile. “Did you enjoy your afternoon off?”

“Oh—yes. I practiced reading.”

Arthur nodded and ate the rest of his supper in quiet. Merlin took his plate back to the kitchens, and when he returned, he could feel the eyes of the guards on him. He gave them each a look before he went into Arthur’s room, trying to convey that he didn’t appreciate them telling Gwen or the other servants about his and Arthur’s arrangement.

When he went in, Arthur was standing by the windows.

“I like it when it rains,” he said without looking around at Merlin. “It’s…”

“Cleansing,” Merlin said, and then he realised that that was exactly what Arthur had said in the cave.

Arthur looked over his shoulder at him, and Merlin gave what he hoped was an innocent smile before hurrying to turn down Arthur’s bed.

“I have some work to do,” Arthur said as he sat at his desk. “You don’t have to stay.”

“I’ll stay,” Merlin said, and he took up his spot at the table.

Arthur took out his maps and started studying them and jotting down notes again, and Merlin took the opportunity to watch him. The lines of his face cast shadows in the candlelight, and the reflection of flames bounced off his light-coloured hair. His lips were full, and he kept licking or biting them as he concentrated on his maps.

The sky behind him grew darker, the rain louder, and Merlin closed his eyes to take in the sound of water hitting the stones in the courtyard.

“Merlin,” Arthur said, and his voice was very close.

Merlin opened his eyes to see Arthur leaning towards him across the table. He’d fallen asleep.

“Come to bed,” Arthur said.

“What?”

“Come get in bed. It can’t be comfortable sleeping in that chair every night.”

Merlin stood, and Arthur went around the room blowing out candles. He was already dressed for bed.

“I don’t have any nightclothes,” Merlin said.

“You can borrow mine. I put some behind the screen.” Arthur got into his bed.

Merlin made his way behind the screen and undressed, getting into Arthur’s nightclothes. They felt big on him, too loose, but he came out from behind the screen anyway. Arthur had pulled back the covers on the other side of the bed, and Merlin slipped under them.

“Goodnight, Merlin,” Arthur said, and then it was quiet.

It felt exceptionally unusual to be sharing a bed with someone else. It seemed so intimate, and Merlin was very aware of Arthur’s breathing. He lay awake for a long time, listening to the rain.

Merlin woke up early when the sun began to rise, and he stayed in Arthur’s bed, staring up at the canopy. If when he’d turned human counted as the first day, this was his fourteenth day. He was about halfway through the month he’d been given to get Arthur to fall in love with him.

He still didn’t know how to go about that.

It did seem like he’d got Arthur to trust him. But trust wasn’t love.

When he grew restless, Merlin slipped out of bed and went over to the windows. The rain had stopped, but the stones in the courtyard still looked wet. The castle was quiet, not quite awake yet, and there was a chill in the air.

He went behind the screen to change back into his own clothes, and when he came out again, Arthur was up, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Good morning,” Merlin said. “Did you sleep well?”

“Very,” Arthur said quietly. He stood and stretched. “I think I’ll go for a ride today. Would you join me?”

“A ride?” Merlin asked.

“Horse ride.”

“Oh. I… don’t know how.”

Arthur looked surprised, and Merlin wondered if it was uncommon to not know how to ride a horse.

“You’ve never ridden?” Arthur asked. Merlin shook his head. “I’ll teach you, then. It’s easy. We don’t have to go fast.”

“Are you sure?” Merlin asked.

“Of course. We’ll make a day of it. Go fetch some food from the kitchens. Tell them I’m going on a picnic.”

Merlin went down to the kitchens, and the cooks helped him pack a basket of what looked to be far too much food. When he brought it back up, he found Arthur dressed and pulling on his boots.

“Come along,” he said, getting to his feet. He looked happy, light, excited even. Merlin didn’t think he’d ever seen Arthur this way before.

He followed Arthur out of the castle and to the stables, where Arthur loaded the basket and a blanket onto a horse and helped Merlin up onto it. It was a very awkward affair as Merlin had no idea which way to move and Arthur’s hands were all over him, pushing and shoving until he was situated properly.

He felt very high up sitting on the horse. He knew that was ridiculous—he was a dragon after all, and he’d been up much, much higher places. But his human body was used to being on the ground, and being up on the horse was disorienting. He clutched the pommel as tightly as he could, trying not to shift his weight around too much. It felt like he was going to slip right off.

Arthur mounted his own horse easily in one graceful motion.

“Take the reins,” Arthur instructed. Merlin did so. “If you want the horse to stop, pull on them. Not too hard.”

Merlin nodded and took a firmer grip on the reins. “Pull to stop,” he said to himself, hoping he’d remember.

“Good. Now just give him a squeeze with your feet and we’ll be off.” Arthur and his horse moved forward, waiting for Merlin.

Merlin took a deep breath and pressed his feet into the horse’s sides. He started walking, and Merlin grabbed hold of the pommel again as he swayed.

“Just relax,” Arthur said. “And sit up straight.”

Merlin took another breath and straightened out his back. His horse kept walking, out of the stables, and Arthur hurried to catch up. He led the way into the woods, and Merlin’s horse seemed to instinctively know to follow.

They rode in silence, the pace slow, and Merlin gradually got used to the rocking of his body as the horse moved below him. He could sort of understand the appeal of this. He imagined that once the horse was moving fast enough, it might be sort of like flying.

“How are you holding up?” Arthur asked after a while, glancing over his shoulder.

“Good.”

“Enjoying it?”

“I think so.”

Arthur grinned and faced forward again. “You look good, very natural.”

Merlin smiled at that.

They continued on until Arthur instructed Merlin to bring the horse to a stop. Merlin tugged slightly on the reins and his horse shook his head but stopped walking. Arthur stopped his horse as well and hopped off.

He came over to Merlin and walked him through dismounting, grabbing him by the waist and guiding him down. When Merlin was back on the ground, he found himself standing very close to Arthur, Arthur still holding him, the moment tight and strange.

Arthur stepped back, dropping his hands, and walked off to scout a good place to sit. Merlin grabbed the food basket and blanket and followed.

They settled on a patch of ground that wasn’t too rough. Merlin spread out the blanket, and Arthur started pulling out food. He sat and dug in without preamble, so Merlin did as well, helping himself to the castle’s finest fruit and cheese and meats and bread.

“Does Gaius feed you?” Arthur asked, sounding amused as Merlin shoved another bite in his mouth.

Merlin chewed and swallowed. “Yes,” he said. “It’s not nearly as good as all this, though.”

Arthur grinned.

They ate until most of the food was gone, and then Arthur lay down on his back, folding his arms under his head and gazing up at the sky.

“I love days like this,” he said. “Days where I can do as I please.”

“And what you please is eating?”

Arthur chuckled. “Amongst other things.”

Merlin let himself gaze down at Arthur, and Arthur either didn’t notice or didn’t care. His hair was shiny in the sun, his lips full and red. His neck looked long, his shirt exposing his collarbones and the top of his chest.

Arthur closed his eyes, his lashes casting a bit of a shadow over his cheeks.

Merlin lay down on the other side of the blanket and looked up at the trees shielding them from the sun. They looked so green, and the day was going so well, and he felt full and happy and warm.

“Merlin?” Arthur asked.

“Hm?”

“What do you dream about?”

Merlin frowned. Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t remember any recent dreams. He hadn’t dreamt at all since he’d turned human. He didn’t think he’d dreamt in the cave, either. He could only remember dreaming when he’d been free and on his own.

Back then, he’d dreamt of chasing down prey, of breathing fire, of flying.

“I dream about the dragon,” Arthur said.

“Are they pleasant dreams?”

“They’re better now,” Arthur said after a moment. “When I first got back, they were… fraught.”

“Oh?”

“They were full of flames,” Arthur said. “And… I don’t know, it was all very vague and fuzzy, but it wasn’t good. I felt so guilty.”

“Why?”

“I left him there,” Arthur said, his voice quiet. “I couldn’t save him.”

“That’s not your fault.”

“I know. I mean, I know. But in my dreams, I just…”

“We can’t control our dreams,” Merlin said.

“No.”

They lay in silence for a long time, long enough for Merlin to nearly drift off.

“Should we go back?” Arthur finally asked.

Merlin sat up. Arthur did, too, and they worked together to put the leftover food back into the basket. They folded up the blanket, and Arthur loaded everything back onto Merlin’s horse.

Merlin still mounted his horse awkwardly, still needed to have Arthur’s hands push him into place, but the ride back was a little more comfortable, a little more instinctive.

When they reached the stables, Arthur helped Merlin down off his horse again, and Merlin still landed too close to him. Arthur didn’t move away—in fact, this time he tightened his grip on Merlin after he’d reached the ground, and he gazed at Merlin for a long moment.

His eyes were so blue this close up, so bright.

Merlin could hear himself breathing, could feel Arthur’s breath against his lips.

“Good?” Arthur asked in a whisper.

Merlin nodded, and Arthur waited a few more seconds before stepping back.

Merlin swallowed, a little unsteady on his feet. These moments were so strange, and he really didn’t know what to make of them.

He got the basket and took it back to the kitchens. He swiped a goblet on his way back out and hurried up to Arthur’s chambers. As he had hoped, Arthur wasn’t there, and he slid the goblet under his side of the bed. It was too far from the windows to catch any sunlight, but it shined on its own, and Merlin admired it for a minute before leaving and going to Gaius’s.

That night, Arthur stayed up late looking over his maps. Merlin sat at the table, waiting for it to be time for bed, stifling yawns and trying not to fall asleep in his chair.

Eventually, Arthur stood, and he brought a map with him over to the table. He spread it out in front of Merlin.

“What do you think?” he asked, pointing at a stretch of mountains in the north. “Would a dragon go there?”

“Maybe,” Merlin said. He’d been to those mountains before, had lived there for a time before coming farther south.

“He has to be there,” Arthur said, seemingly more to himself than to Merlin.

“Are you going to go looking for him?”

“I’d like to.” Arthur took the map back to his desk. “My father would never let me go on that kind of mission, though.”

“He… doesn’t like magic, does he?” Merlin asked.

“No, nor creatures of it.”

“But you don’t seem to mind.”

Arthur pursed his lips and looked down at his maps. “It was magic that saved me,” he said. “Without it, I might still be in that cave.”

Merlin wanted to press more, to ask if Arthur had changed his mind about magic, if he’d realised that it wasn’t evil in and of itself, if he’d come to appreciate it for the true wonder that it was.

But then Arthur started putting away his maps, and the moment was gone. Arthur changed into his nightclothes and got into bed, so Merlin went around putting out the candles. He changed into Arthur’s spare nightclothes in the dark before crawling into bed next to Arthur.

“Have you ever seen magic?” Arthur asked.

Merlin considered the question carefully. Surely no one could fault him for just having been a witness to it. “Yes,” he said.

“What was it like?”

“It was…” Merlin stared up at the canopy, trying to think of how to describe it. “It’s woven into the very fabric of the earth,” he said. “It’s essential. It draws on a power we can hardly fathom.”

Arthur was quiet for a long time before he said, “The dragon’s magic was like that. It was beautiful. I didn’t think it could be a force for good, but…”

“It’s a naturally positive force,” Merlin said. “When it is used for evil, that is the fault of those who wield it, not the fault of magic itself.”

“You sound like the dragon.”

“I’m sure he understood the concept very deeply.”

Arthur murmured his agreement but said nothing more, and Merlin stayed awake for a long time after that, wondering if Arthur would ever really understand.

The bed was very warm when Merlin woke up the next morning. It was so cosy, so soft, and he couldn’t even bring himself to open his eyes. He wanted to stay under the covers for as long as he could, wrapped around—

Merlin went still, trying to take stock of his body. He was on his side, chest pressed to Arthur’s back. His legs were bent at the knees and tucked firmly behind Arthur’s. One of his arms was draped over Arthur’s middle.

He could smell how close they were together. Arthur had a heady scent, like grass and horses and time under the sun. He smelled like the day they’d had together.

Merlin opened his eyes. Arthur’s hair was there, and Merlin was breathing into it, blowing the strands apart.

He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t remember moving into this position. He didn’t remember Arthur rolling closer. He didn’t remember slotting into place behind him.

“Merlin,” Arthur said, so quietly Merlin almost didn’t hear.

“Mhm.”

“Breakfast.”

Merlin licked his lips and closed his eyes, readying himself to break away from Arthur. He lifted his arm first and then turned onto his back. Arthur stayed where he was.

He got out of the bed and changed back into his own clothes before going down to the kitchens to fetch food. When he came back up, Arthur was still in bed.

He set the platter down at the table and stood there for a moment, not sure what to do. Everything felt so strange. He wasn’t sure if he’d done anything wrong.

“Merlin,” Arthur said.

“Yes.”

“I’d like to take a bath.”

“Right.”

Merlin went to collect some other servants to help him set everything up. Arthur ate his breakfast at the table while they brought in the tub and the water and started a fire. Merlin poured some oils into the water and set a brush on the edge of the tub.

“All ready,” he said, dipping his fingers into the water to test the temperature. It was pleasantly hot, and the skin on his arm tingled with goose pimples. He wished he could sink into it himself. He bet it would feel wonderful.

Arthur stood from the table and started undressing, leaving a trail of clothing as he approached the tub. He climbed into it naked, lowering himself until he was up to his neck in the water.

Merlin collected his nightclothes and added them to the basket behind the screen.

“Would you like to join me?” Arthur asked.

Merlin eyed the tub. It looked about big enough for both of them.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

Arthur nodded, so Merlin started undressing. He could feel Arthur’s eyes on him, which he supposed was only fair because it wasn’t as if he’d looked away when Arthur had been the one undressing.

He climbed slowly into the tub, one leg at a time, holding onto the edge in case he slipped. The water felt amazing as he sat down, and his skin prickled from the heat.

He was sitting opposite Arthur, and Arthur looked at him for a long time, a frown settling over his features.

“You’re so very strange, Merlin,” he finally said.

“Am I?”

“Most servants wouldn’t dare bathe with their prince.”

“Oh. Should I have refused the invitation?”

“No.”

“All right.” Merlin rested his head back against the edge of the tub. It was very relaxing in the hot water—he could see why Arthur had fallen asleep the last time.

“Most servants wouldn’t go on a picnic with their prince, either,” Arthur said.

“That was your idea.”

“Most servants wouldn’t sleep in their prince’s bed.”

“Also your idea.”

Arthur grinned and sank a bit lower, his chin barely above the water.

“Thank you,” he said after a while.

“For what?”

“For going along with all of my ideas.”

“They’ve all been good ideas so far,” Merlin said, and Arthur’s smile widened.

The water gradually cooled off, not too much due to the fire, but eventually it was just warm instead of hot. Arthur grabbed the brush and started scrubbing himself down, and when he was done he passed it to Merlin before getting out of the tub.

He dried himself off as Merlin got clean, and then Merlin got out of the tub as well. The room was cold compared to the water, and he hurried to dry himself off so he could get back into his clothes.

He helped Arthur dress, too, and then Arthur grabbed a few papers from his desk and went off to some council meeting. Merlin called in the other servants to help him with the tub. When that was done, he stashed the platter from Arthur’s breakfast under his side of the bed with the goblet and then went to Gaius’s.

Gaius was at his workbench, but he got up when Merlin came in and put together a lunch for both of them.

“How is the prince sleeping?” he asked as he handed Merlin a plate.

“Much better.”

“He hasn’t asked for a potion in a few days.”

“No. I don’t think they helped him much. It’s like you said, they could only do so much for a troubled mind.”

Gaius took a few bites before saying, “Well, I’m grateful for whatever it is that’s helping him sleep. He’s much more himself these days.”

“He’s much more agreeable,” Merlin said.

Gaius nodded. “And he seems happier.”

Merlin liked the idea of being the one to make Arthur happy.

They finished up lunch, and then Gaius helped Merlin with his reading until it was time for Merlin to bring Arthur his supper.

The night went mostly the same as the previous one had, with Arthur studying his maps until it was late and then finally getting into bed. Merlin followed shortly behind him, and as he was shifting around to get comfortable, Arthur moved closer to the centre of the bed.

“Did you mind?” Arthur asked quietly once Merlin had settled down.

“Mind what?”

“This morning.”

Merlin thought back to how he’d woken up so close to Arthur. “No,” he said. “I didn’t mind.”

“Then come here.”

Arthur turned onto his side, facing away from Merlin, and Merlin rolled over to get behind him. He pressed his chest to Arthur’s back, bent his knees behind Arthur’s, and wrapped an arm around Arthur’s middle.

“Goodnight, Merlin,” Arthur said.

“Goodnight,” Merlin answered, and he found it very easy to fall asleep curled up with Arthur.

Merlin didn’t want to wake up in the morning. Arthur was warm and comforting, and he just wanted to stay where he was.

Arthur seemed to feel the same, because even after he woke up and shifted, he didn’t pull away from Merlin. In fact, he moved closer, leaning back into Merlin.

Merlin decided this was so much better than sleeping alone. He had been feeling a little strange about not sleeping in his own bed back at Gaius’s, but now he couldn’t imagine going back there and sleeping by himself.

“Merlin,” Arthur said after a while.

“Yes.”

“Did you dream?”

“No. Did you?”

“I was back in the cave,” Arthur said. “But I wasn’t chained. I was… the dragon was forging sword after sword for me. They were so beautiful, unlike anything I’ve ever seen in real life.”

“Sounds very nice.”

“Do you remember that dagger?”

“Yes.”

“He forged it, the dragon. That was how I escaped. He breathed fire on it, breathed magic on it, and I used it to break my chains. He didn’t have to do it, but he did, and it’s probably the only reason I’m still alive.”

“You were lucky he was there to help, then.”

“Yes.” Arthur was quiet for a while. “I can feel the magic in the dagger,” he said. “It’s… it’s not like anything else I’ve ever felt. It pulls something from inside me, like it knows me.”

“The dragon forged it for you,” Merlin said. “There’s a special kind of magic in that.”

“How do you know?”

Merlin didn’t have an answer to that, so he said nothing. Arthur sighed and sat up.

Merlin helped him dress, and then he left with no instructions other than for Merlin to make himself useful for the day.

Merlin decided to wash Arthur’s sheets. He brought them down to the kitchens and out the back of the castle, hoping to find Gwen. She didn’t seem to be around, though, so he just dunked Arthur’s sheets in a tub and let them soak in the oils for a few minutes before wringing them out and hanging them to dry.

He brought a bucket and a brush up to Arthur’s chambers and let his magic set the brush to scrub the floor. It had been looking a bit dirty, especially after having so many people come through the day before to help with Arthur’s bath.

The brush scrubbed everything clean, although it did knock over the goblet under the bed. Merlin had forgot he’d put that there. He set it right and admired it for a minute, thinking he would need to add to this collection.

When the floors were clean, Merlin went to grab Arthur’s sheets from the line. He swiped another goblet from the kitchens on his way back to Arthur’s room, and he set it up next to the other one under Arthur’s bed.

Then he had to figure out how to make the bed. It was a large bed, and it took a few tries for Merlin to decipher which way the sheets were supposed to go. It looked a little messy, exactly as if it had been made by someone who didn’t know what they were doing, but it would have to do.

Arthur didn’t return until supper, and he worked as he ate, going over his maps.

He was quiet for the entire night, eventually getting up from his desk and changing into his nightclothes without saying anything. Merlin put out the candles, changed, and joined him in bed.

They curled up together in what were now their usual positions, and Merlin was almost asleep when Arthur suddenly turned over to face him.

They looked at each other in the dark for a while, Merlin taking in the way the moonlight struck the angles of Arthur’s face, and then Arthur put his hand on Merlin’s waist.

“Do you ever…” Arthur started to ask, but he didn’t finish the question. He brushed his thumb over Merlin’s shirt, and Merlin skin sang from the touch. “Is this all right?”

Merlin nodded. Arthur licked his lips and slipped his hand under Merlin’s shirt, getting his fingers on Merlin’s bare skin, still brushing his thumb over Merlin’s side. Merlin fought not to shiver from the contact. It felt nice to be touched, although Arthur’s hand was cold, and he didn’t really understand what was happening.

“Do you know what a tease it was to see you naked yesterday?” Arthur asked.

“A tease?”

Arthur pursed his lips, his eyes narrowing. “Merlin,” he said quietly. “Do you not understand?”

“I don’t think I do.”

Arthur sighed, but he was smiling. “You’re so very strange.”

“You said that yesterday.”

“I want you,” Arthur said, slotting in closer. “Do you understand now?”

Merlin thought he did this time. Arthur’s hand was warming on his skin, and Merlin suddenly wanted more. He wanted to get his own hands on Arthur, to touch that lovely skin himself.

“I want you, too,” Merlin said, and Arthur grinned.

Merlin reached out under the covers and got a hand on Arthur’s side. He fumbled to pull Arthur’s clothes away, and then he grabbed hold of Arthur’s hip. His skin was so warm, and Merlin dug his fingers in.

Arthur looked at Merlin, long and thoughtful, and Merlin’s heart stuttered in his chest.

Arthur moved his hand to the small of Merlin’s back. “May I touch you?” he asked.

“You already are.”

“I mean…” Arthur widened his eyes, and Merlin understood. It was so strange to be doing this with a human. Dragons went about it so differently, much more roughly, with much less talking. But Arthur was gentle, slow, and Merlin found himself aching for it.

“Yes,” he said, and Arthur moved his hand to Merlin’s front before sliding it down, into Merlin’s nightclothes.

He cupped Merlin’s cock, which strained against his palm, and Merlin bit his lip. He hadn’t realised he was hard, but now he felt it, that tightness, that eagerness, that readiness.

“Is this all right?” Arthur asked as he took Merlin’s cock in hand.

“Yes.”

Arthur began stroking him, and Merlin inhaled sharply. It felt unreasonably good.

“Get naked,” Arthur whispered, taking his hand away.

Merlin scrambled to pull off his nightclothes as Arthur did the same, and then Arthur was on him, hand on his cock, mouth on his neck. Merlin arched against him and felt Arthur’s hard cock against his leg. He wondered if he should be returning the favour, but he couldn’t coordinate himself enough for that.

Soon enough, Merlin forgot all about Arthur’s pressing need. All he could think about was Arthur all over him, Arthur’s hand working over his cock, Arthur’s mouth finding spots on his neck that made him cry out.

He started losing his breath. His hands clenched around the sheets. His muscles tensed, everything winding tight near his cock. Arthur was relentless, sucking his neck, stripping his cock, and Merlin was coming undone.

“Arthur,” he whispered, the sound of his own voice grounding him slightly.

Arthur pulled back and looked at him, lips red and wet, and Merlin shuddered. His body went taut for a moment, and then relief crashed over him, and he jerked and moaned and fisted Arthur’s sheets.

Arthur grinned, looking rather smug, and Merlin turned to press his face into the pillow. He was out of breath, and his heart was racing, and his cock was still pulsing weakly in Arthur’s grip, and there was a mess all over his front, and it had been wonderful.

Letting go of Merlin’s cock, Arthur pressed his lips to Merlin’s bare shoulder. “How was that?” he asked.

Merlin nodded, unable to put it into words. He continued to focus on his breathing and trying to get his heart to quiet down, and then he noticed Arthur’s arm moving. He glanced down to see Arthur’s hand wrapped around his own cock. The sight made his mouth water.

“May I?” he asked, brushing his fingers over Arthur’s wrist.

Arthur pulled his hand away, and Merlin immediately replaced it with his own. Arthur’s cock was warm, smooth, hard and long and just right for Merlin’s grip. He started stroking it, and Arthur sighed and sank back into the bed.

“How’s this?” Merlin asked, and Arthur nodded, his eyes trained on Merlin’s hand.

Merlin leaned in to get his mouth on Arthur’s neck, and he was surprised at how overwhelming Arthur’s scent was there. He still smelled clean from yesterday’s bath, or maybe that was just how he always smelled underneath the scent of the day.

Arthur groaned as Merlin licked across his skin, and Merlin smiled and pressed a kiss to his neck. He liked hearing that sound, liked knowing that Arthur appreciated what he was doing. He tightened his grip on Arthur’s cock and shifted a little to press kisses down to Arthur’s chest.

“Merlin,” Arthur whispered as Merlin kissed lower.

Merlin looked up. Arthur’s face was flushed in the dark. They locked eyes, and Merlin stilled his hand, waiting for Arthur to say more.

When he said nothing, Merlin shifted down the bed and started pressing kisses to Arthur’s thighs instead.

Arthur spread his legs, his breathing a bit uneven. Merlin began stroking him again as he kissed around his muscles. He licked up to Arthur’s hip and let his tongue follow the defined line from there down to the base of Arthur’s cock.

Arthur smelled even more like Arthur down here. Merlin breathed it in before lifting his head and licking up the length of Arthur’s cock. Arthur made a frustrated sort of sound, so Merlin did it again with more pressure. He continued on, focusing on licking the bunch of skin under the head of Arthur’s cock because Arthur seemed to like that the most, until Arthur reached down and got a hand in Merlin’s hair.

He tugged at it, and Merlin looked up to see Arthur’s chest flushed the same as his face.

Merlin flicked his tongue out, licking Arthur’s cock even as he kept eye contact, and Arthur groaned.

“Come here,” he said, and Merlin shifted back up the bed.

He resumed stroking Arthur’s cock, and Arthur bit down on his lower lip, looking pained.

“Is this all right?” Merlin asked.

Arthur nodded. “Keep going,” he said. “I’m close.”

Merlin grinned and ducked down to suck on Arthur’s neck. Arthur cried out, hips arching off the bed, and his cock throbbed in Merlin’s hand. Merlin turned to look, watching Arthur spill all over himself, and continued pulling on his cock until Arthur reached down to stop him.

Merlin lay back on the bed, listening to Arthur catch his breath, grinning up at the canopy.

Arthur reached for his hand, and their fingers tangled together.

“These sheets will need washing tomorrow,” Arthur said after a long while of silence.

“I washed them today.”

Arthur chuckled. “Well. Pretend you spilled something on it.”

“Might as well have done,” Merlin said. He sat up and looked down near Arthur’s legs where his mess had rubbed off on the sheets.

Arthur sat up, too, pulling his hand away from Merlin’s. He got up to get a towel, and he wiped himself off before handing it to Merlin, who rubbed it over himself and the sheets. He got up to put it in the basket of clothes behind the screen, and then he and Arthur got back into bed.

“Merlin,” Arthur said as they arranged themselves and the covers. Merlin draped himself over Arthur’s back, both of them still naked, skin touching skin.

“Yes.”

Arthur didn’t say anything else, and he fell asleep quickly, leaving Merlin to lay awake and wonder what he had wanted to say.

In the morning, it took Merlin a moment to realise that he was alone in Arthur’s bed. He hadn’t registered Arthur moving around or getting up.

He lifted his head and saw Arthur standing, dressed, in his old spot by the windows. His arms were crossed, and he was staring down at the courtyard.

Merlin slipped out from under the covers and got into his clothes. He joined Arthur at the window, standing next to him and looking out.

“Looks like rain,” Merlin said.

Arthur murmured his agreement. He sighed and turned, dropping his arms and walking away from the windows and Merlin.

“I have council meetings all day,” he said, “and dinner with my father after.”

“Oh,” Merlin said, waiting for his instructions for the day.

Arthur didn’t give him any, though. He just glanced around, avoiding looking at Merlin, and then left.

Merlin didn’t know what to make of that behaviour, but it didn’t seem good. He felt almost rejected. It had been as if Arthur didn’t want anything to do with him.

He went to Gaius’s to see if he could wash his clothes. He took the long way, winding through castle corridors and down staircases and through halls. He even walked across the courtyard, taking in the strange scent on the wind that surely meant rain.

That was when he saw her—Nimueh, right in the courtyard.

She was cloaked, but there was no mistaking her, her presence, her magic.

She was looking right at Merlin, watching him.

Merlin walked over quickly. “What are you doing here?” he asked in a low voice.

“I wanted to see how you were doing,” she said, smiling not so kindly. “Have you had love’s first kiss yet?”

“Not exactly.”

“Tsk tsk. You only have two weeks left.”

“I’m aware.” Merlin looked around, but no one was paying them any attention. “If I were to be the one to initiate a kiss—”

“No,” Nimueh said without hesitation. “It must be him. He must fall in love with you.”

“How do I—”

“One cannot force the matter.”

Merlin sighed. “Why did you put a time limit on my transformation spell?”

“It’s more fun this way.”

“Can I get more time?”

“No.” Nimueh smiled again. “You must live out your own destiny.”

“What does that mean?”

She just continued smiling, so Merlin walked away, continuing his trek towards Gaius’s.

When he got there, he found Gaius at his workbench.

“You’ve alive,” Gaius said mildly.

“Yes. I’m sorry I haven’t been around.”

Gaius waved off the concern. “I’m just glad you’re finding your place.”

The idea of Merlin finding his place with Arthur made him warm all over.

“I was hoping to wash my clothes,” he said.

“There’s bathwater in the corner,” Gaius said. “It’s cold.”

“That’s fine.” Merlin took the bucket into his room and closed the door. He shed his clothes and dunked them in the oiled water, scrubbing the fabric against itself since he didn’t have a board.

He used his magic to dry the clothes but left them laid out on his bed and climbed up on the desk to get a look out the window. It had started raining—the sky was grey and all the trees were glimmering with wet.

Merlin watched the rain for a while, a small ache in his chest. He missed flying.

But he’d made his choice.

As long as he could get Arthur to kiss him within the next two weeks, it would all be worth it.

Merlin climbed down, put his clothes back on, and went out to see Gaius.

“Can I ask you a question?” he asked as he sat down opposite Gaius at his workbench.

“Of course.”

“When people lie together, do they generally kiss?”

Gaius looked very surprised by the question. “I would say so, yes.”

Merlin nodded. He had suspected as much. Now he just had to figure out why Arthur hadn’t kissed him the night before.

“Do I want to know why you’re asking?” Gaius asked.

“Probably not.” Merlin stood. “Do you have another book I can practice with?”

Gaius got him a book on oils and their healing potentials, and Merlin spent the rest of the day working through the first few pages. He was still dreadfully slow with his reading, but he could get most words on his own if he sounded them out enough.

He ate supper with Gaius and then returned to Arthur’s chambers.

Arthur was back by the window, watching the rain.

It was a disconcerting sight, a sight that was too familiar. Merlin took up his seat at the table, waiting for Arthur to get to work on his maps. He didn’t, though. He stayed by the windows long past the time they would normally get into bed.

Merlin watched him the whole time, trying to figure out what had gone wrong. They’d made such progress, and Arthur had been sleeping so well, and now they were here again, at the windows, avoiding the bed completely.

Merlin stayed up the whole night with him, waiting for him to get tired enough to go to sleep, but he never did. He simply stayed by the windows until the sun rose, and then he had Merlin pick out new clothes for him.

“Remember to wash the sheets,” he said as Merlin dressed him.

Merlin had completely forgot about that. “I will,” he said.

Arthur didn’t say anything else. He didn’t look at Merlin, either. He just pulled on his boots and left.

Merlin wondered if he’d done something wrong, something to upset Arthur, but he couldn’t think of anything. Arthur had been the one to initiate their tryst the other night—he’d very clearly wanted it. And he’d been happy immediately afterwards. But everything had been off since the morning after. It had to have something to do with what they’d done—Merlin just didn’t know what.

He got the sheets from Arthur’s bed and brought them down to the washing area. Gwen was there, washing dresses, and Merlin took up the tub next to hers.

“How are you?” he asked as he dropped the sheets into the tub.

“Oh, I’m fine, same as always,” Gwen said. “Arthur keeping you busy?”

“Not as busy as I was at first, actually.” Merlin started scrubbing the sheets against the board. “He didn’t ask me to do anything at all yesterday.”

“That’s very nice of him.”

Merlin looked over to see Gwen smirking.

“Are there…” Merlin paused, not sure he wanted the answer to his question. “Have you heard anything?”

“How do you mean?”

“About—about Arthur. About me?”

“Oh.” Gwen looked like she couldn’t contain her smile. “Maybe. It’s harmless, though. Nothing bad.”

“Will you tell me?” Merlin found the stain on Arthur’s sheets and hurried to scrub it out.

“Are you sure?”

“Please.”

Gwen went to hang up a dress on the line, and when she came back, she stood next to Merlin at his tub.

“I just heard you were staying with him at night.”

“How did you hear?”

“The guards talk. Servants talk. Everyone talks, really.”

Merlin frowned down at the sheets. He still felt like it wasn’t anyone’s business.

“I think it’s sweet,” Gwen said. “Arthur seems a lot happier having you around.”

Merlin knew that was true, or at least it had been until very recently.

He wondered how Arthur would cope in a few weeks when Merlin turned back into a dragon and disappeared.

“I have to get back inside. You’re not upset, are you?” Gwen asked, clearly worried.

Merlin shot her a smile. “No. It’s fine. Thank you for telling me.”

Gwen grinned and patted him on the shoulder before heading into the kitchens. Merlin finished up the washing, hung up the sheets, and went to nap at Gaius’s while they dried.

When Merlin brought Arthur’s dry sheet back up to his chambers, he found Arthur at his desk, looking like he was struggling to keep his eyes open.

Merlin made up the bed, pulling the sheets tight across the mattress to make it look as appealing as possible.

“Anything else I can do for you?” Merlin asked, coming over to Arthur’s desk.

Arthur waved his hand, dismissing Merlin.

“Is there… Arthur, when we… did I do something wrong?” Merlin asked.

Arthur went very still but continued looking down at his scrolls. “No,” he said.

“Are you sure? Because you haven’t looked at me since—” Merlin cut himself off when Arthur looked up and right at Merlin.

“Happy?” Arthur asked. He maintained eye contact for another few seconds before going back to his work.

Merlin left and walked out of the castle, needing fresh air. He walked to the stables and stood near the horse he’d ridden the other day, petting its long nose.

Arthur was back to being a miserable prat. Merlin deserved better. He might have been a servant, and probably not a very good one at that, but he was still a person and shouldn’t be treated this way. He had feelings, too.

Clearly something had gone very wrong, but Merlin didn’t have much hope of coaxing the issue out of Arthur. He seemed perfectly content to stew in his own misery.

Merlin lingered by the horses as long as he dared, and then he went to fetch Arthur’s dinner.

“I’ll be sleeping at Gaius’s tonight,” he said as he set the platter down on Arthur’s desk.

Arthur said nothing to that, so Merlin left, heart heavy in his chest.

“Merlin,” Gaius said when he came in. “I’m surprised to see you.”

Merlin shrugged and picked up his book on oils, settling down at a table with it.

“Is everything all right?” Gaius asked.

“Everything’s fine.”

Gaius let him be for a few minutes before saying, “Arthur looked quite tired at the council meeting this morning.”

“Don’t know why that has anything to do with me.”

“Merlin—”

“I think I’ll turn in early,” Merlin said. He stood, taking the book with him and going into his room.

He took off his clothes, hanging them over the chair at the desk, and got into the bed naked.

He read for a while, until his eyelids grew heavy, and then he put the book down and tried to sleep.

It was surprisingly difficult despite his exhaustion. He hated to admit it, but he missed sleeping with Arthur. He missed having Arthur pressed against him. He missed breathing in Arthur’s scent as he drifted off. He missed having Arthur tucked safely under his arm.

It took what felt like hours for sleep to finally come.

Merlin had forgot how much noise Gaius made in the morning. He woke up from it, annoyed, and tried to go back to sleep, but it was no use.

He stayed in bed for a while, though, counting through the days in his head. This was his nineteenth day as a human. He was running out of time. And at the rate things were going now, Arthur would never kiss him, let alone within the next few days.

He got up and got dressed, ready for another day of Arthur ignoring him.

When he reached Arthur’s chambers, he found him at his desk, head nodded forward as he slept.

Merlin paused in the doorway, not wanting to interrupt Arthur’s rest, but then Arthur’s head jerked up, and he looked around.

“Merlin,” he said, voice gruff.

“Good morning.”

Arthur got out of his chair with a grunt, and Merlin helped him change into fresh clothes for the day. He left without giving instructions, so Merlin took the basket of clothes from behind the screen down to the kitchens and out the back. Gwen wasn’t there this time, so he washed Arthur’s clothes alone, moving at a leisurely pace.

He came across the towel he and Arthur had used to clean themselves up after they’d been together, and he washed it quickly, not wanting to dwell on how nice that had been, how good it had felt, how lovely Arthur had been until the morning after.

When everything was hung up to dry, Merlin spent the rest of his day at Gaius’s, practicing his reading.

Arthur came in during the late afternoon, and he spoke with Gaius in low tones at the door before leaving again, completely ignoring the fact that Merlin was in the room.

Merlin found it infuriating. He had half a mind to just leave and go back to Nimueh and get turned back in a dragon a week early. There seemed to be no point in staying at Camelot.

At supper time, Gaius gave Merlin a potion to deliver to Arthur.

“Sleeping draught?” Merlin guessed as he took the vial.

“Remind him not to drink it all at once.”

Merlin stopped by the kitchens to get Arthur’s clothes and food and then brought the platter up to Arthur’s chambers.

Arthur was stood by the windows, looking out over the courtyard with his arms crossed.

Merlin set the food down on the table.

“Supper,” he announced. “And I brought the remedy from Gaius.”

Arthur turned away from the windows, but instead of coming over to the table to eat, he sat at his desk and went to work on his maps.

Merlin put away Arthur’s clothes, not being particularly careful with them, and replaced the basket behind the screen. Arthur was still at his desk.

“You need to eat,” Merlin said.

Arthur did nothing to acknowledge that Merlin had spoken.

Deciding to be done with it, Merlin turned to go. He would leave in the morning and return to the Isle of the Blessed to see Nimueh.

“Merlin,” Arthur said, and Merlin paused.

He glanced over his shoulder, but Arthur’s head was still bent over his desk. He waited to see if Arthur had anything else to say. It took a long, drawn-out moment, but eventually he spoke again.

“Would you stay?”

Most of Merlin wanted to say ‘no’. Most of him wanted to keep walking out the door and never see this grumpy Arthur again. Most of him wanted to leave Arthur on his own to suffer.

“Of course,” he said, letting the part of him that still had hope win out. “As long as you like.”

Merlin took up his spot at the table and waited as the sky grew dark and the air grew cold.

Eventually, Arthur came over to have his supper. He sat far from Merlin, saying nothing as he ate. When he was finished, he pushed his leftovers towards Merlin and picked up the vial from Gaius.

“Remember not to have the whole thing,” Merlin said.

Arthur downed about a third of the liquid and then went back over to his desk.

“You need to sleep,” Merlin said, knowing it was pointless.

Arthur just sat down and resumed looking at his maps.

Merlin picked at what was left of Arthur’s supper, and when he was done, he took the platter down to the kitchens.

Arthur was still at his desk when Merlin came back up, so Merlin sat at the table and continued waiting.

He leaned his head against the back of the chair, looking up at the ceiling and the way the candle flames danced across it.

He drifted off a few times, always woken up again by the sound of Arthur shuffling papers around on his desk.

He didn’t know what the point of staying was. It wasn’t like he was offering good company. He was just there, sitting, doing nothing.

But Arthur had asked, and that was the most effort he’d put forth in days, and Merlin wasn’t going to turn that down.

The sky started to lighten, just slightly, the hint of the sun rise creeping up in the distance, and Arthur got up from his desk. He went behind the screen and came out in his nightclothes.

Merlin watched, bleary-eyed, as Arthur got into his bed without saying anything. As soon as he was under the covers, Merlin crossed his arms on the table and rested his head on them, unable to keep his eyes open for even a second longer.

Merlin woke up again when the sky was fully light and the sun was shining through the windows. He sat up, stretched out his neck, and looked around. Arthur was still in bed, which felt like a small miracle.

Pushing his chair back as quietly as he could, Merlin stood. He stretched out his back and went over to the windows. The day looked promising, bright, and Merlin wished he could just fly out the window right then and there.

“Merlin.”

Merlin turned to see Arthur sitting up in his bed.

“Let’s go for a ride,” Arthur said, and Merlin grinned.

Arthur got up, and Merlin helped him into his clothes for the day, and then they went to the stables.

Their ride was quiet, and there was no picnic this time, but Merlin still thoroughly enjoyed himself. It was nice to be out in nature, nice to feel the wind in his face, nice to be with a slightly less grumpy Arthur.

They rode most of the day, until Merlin was feeling sore, and then they rode back because it was supper time. Merlin brought food up to Arthur’s chambers, and Arthur ate at the table. His maps were still spread across his desk from the night before, but he didn’t return to them. Instead, once he finished eating, he changed into his nightclothes and stood by the window to watch the sun go down.

Merlin thought he might spend the whole night there, but then, as Merlin was feeling the exhaustion of the lack of sleep from the night before settling in, he spoke.

“Will you come to bed?” he asked.

“Are you sure?”

Arthur nodded, so Merlin got up and found some of Arthur’s nightclothes to change into. They got into bed together, although Arthur kept to his side.

Merlin didn’t like the feeling of being in bed with Arthur without touching him, without having him wrapped in his arms, without being able to smell his hair.

He slept anyway, accepting that Arthur was drifting back towards what they’d had before and hoping, as was all he could do, that the next night would be even better.

Merlin woke up wrapped around Arthur. He was so warm against Merlin, so comforting. His scent was so familiar, so missed, and Merlin breathed it in before opening his eyes.

“Good morning,” Arthur said, voice low and gravelly.

Merlin made to move away, but Arthur grabbed his wrist, keeping him in place.

“Arthur,” Merlin whispered.

Arthur breathed in deeply and turned onto his other side, facing Merlin. They looked at each other for a while, and then Arthur smiled. Merlin held onto Arthur’s hip, treasuring that look.

“What happened?” he asked.

Arthur’s smile wavered and then faded. “There’s a lot I’ll never be able to have, Merlin.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means… I want to find my dragon, but my father will never let me go after a creature of magic unless the mission is to kill it. I want you, but my father will never let me be with a servant.”

“You should live your own life,” Merlin said. “One day, you will be king, and then you will be able to do all these things.”

“One day,” Arthur agreed. “Likely not any day soon.”

“You can’t let him dictate every part of your life.”

Arthur licked his lips and then opened his mouth to respond, but he said nothing. Silence fell over them, and Arthur closed his eyes. Merlin watched him for a long while, feeling bittersweet. He finally had this back, and Arthur was already giving up again.

“We should bathe,” Arthur finally said, opening his eyes again.

“Do you have any idea how much work it is to set up your bath?”

Arthur laughed, rolling onto his back. “Is it that bad?”

“It’s pretty bad.”

“Can’t be as bad as how much I’ll smell after today’s training session.”

“Fair point.”

Arthur laughed again, and Merlin pressed his forehead to Arthur’s shoulder, loving the sound.

Arthur sat up with a groan and got out of bed. Merlin followed and got him dressed before changing back into his own clothes. Arthur went to work with his knights, and Merlin collected some other servants to help set up his bath.

When Arthur came back, he was sweaty but he looked happy. He was glowing from his time under the sun, and he stripped quickly to get into the tub.

“Join me,” he said as he sank into the water.

Merlin undressed, laying his clothes out on Arthur’s bed, and climbed into the tub. He sat opposite Arthur, and Arthur reached for his hands under the water, entangling their fingers.

“I’m sorry I’ve been difficult,” he said.

“It’s all right,” Merlin said. “I’m sorry I’ve been spitting in your food.”

Arthur laughed, long and hard. He let go of Merlin’s hands and stretched his arms out, resting them on the edge of the tub. He gazed at Merlin, expression soft and pleased.

Merlin pulled a face, and Arthur laughed again. He splashed Merlin, who splashed him back, and soon they were in a bit of a fight. Merlin cupped his hands in the water, collecting it in his palms, and then dumped it over Arthur’s head. Arthur did the same with his hands but flung the water in Merlin’s face. They moved closer, getting each other soaked, until they were chest-to-chest, laughing and wiping water out of their eyes.

Arthur rested his hands on Merlin’s hips, holding him in place, and Merlin could feel their cocks resting against each other. He looked at Arthur, reading the uncertainty on his face.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Arthur said, letting go of Merlin and sitting back down. He grabbed the brush and started scrubbing himself.

Merlin settled down into the water, watching until it was his turn. Arthur got out of the tub as Merlin got clean, and he dried himself before wrapping the towel around his waist and sitting on the edge of his bed.

Merlin, scrubbed and washed and starting to feel chilled in the water, climbed out of the tub and grabbed another towel. He tried not to notice the way Arthur was watching him, but it was hard when he felt so exposed. Once he was dry, he took his clothes from Arthur’s bed and got back into them, still feeling Arthur’s eyes on his skin.

“I have a council meeting this afternoon,” Arthur said when Merlin was dressed. “Will you be here when I get back?”

“Of course.” Merlin gave Arthur a smile, and he returned it, bright and easy.

Merlin helped Arthur get dressed, and then Arthur left for his meeting. Merlin and some other servants cleared out the bath, and then Merlin was left with nothing to do until Arthur returned.

He sat at Arthur’s desk, looking for something to practice reading. He found, sitting on the side of the desk on top of the pile of maps, Arthur’s notes.

The top of the parchment was all notes about geography, names of various places that had little stars next to them or had been crossed off. There were a lot of scribbled ‘maybe’s. Merlin was able to recognise most words after a bit of sounding out, and he was feeling quite proud of his progress.

Then he came across a new word, and it took him a minute to puzzle it out.

It was his name. Merlin. There, on the page. He’d never seen it written before.

There were no other words around it. It was just his name, on its own, sitting there in the middle of the parchment.

Merlin didn’t know what it meant.

He kept reading, and the notes below had nothing to do with geography. They were phrases, sometimes two of three on top of each other, just words about feelings. Words about Merlin.

Merlin set the paper back on the pile of maps and got up. He shouldn’t have seen that. That was Arthur’s private writing.

He went down to the kitchens to steal some food and a small platter, which he hid under his side of Arthur’s bed. Then he stood by the windows for a while, watching people move about the courtyard, until Arthur came back.

“I see you’ve made yourself useful while I’ve been away,” he said.

Merlin turned and gave Arthur a smile. “I’ve been extremely busy.”

Arthur chuckled. He went over to his desk and started laying out his maps. He left his notes on the side, and Merlin eyed them as he rounded the desk.

“Are you still thinking of ways to go find the dragon?”

“It’s become a bit of a hobby at this point,” Arthur said as he sat down. “I don’t think I’ll ever get the chance to see him again but…” He shook his head. “This helps, I guess. At least I’m trying, you know?” He frowned. “Not that it’ll make any difference.”

“I’m sure he would appreciate the effort.”

Arthur gave a sad smile. “Maybe. I hope he’s not even thinking about me. I hope he’s out there, free and flying.”

Merlin wasn’t sure what to say to that. Sometimes he wished the same, that he was out there, free and flying, not giving Arthur a second thought.

In moments like this, though, in moments when Arthur was open and honest and not an exhausted prat, Merlin was happy right where he was.

He went to get Arthur’s supper, and Arthur ate with him at the table, sharing the food. Then Arthur went back to work at his desk, and Merlin watched as he scribbled down more notes. He couldn’t help but wonder if the notes were about him again.

Finally, Arthur was ready for bed, and Merlin went around the room, putting out the candles as Arthur got changed. Merlin borrowed a set of Arthur’s nightclothes again and got into bed with him, curling himself around Arthur and drifting off while breathing in the scent of his freshly washed hair.

In the morning, Merlin was warm and content and not at all interested in getting out of bed.

Arthur had his duties, though, so they weren’t able to stay in bed together long. They got up, and they got dressed, and they carried on with their day.

It felt so good, and Merlin was happy, and he let himself bask in that for a little too long. The days passed, and he and Arthur continued to spend their nights together, but Arthur never dared kiss him. There were moments when he seemed close, moments when they were rutting against each other, hot and bothered and desperately close to making a mess between them. Arthur would detach his lips from Merlin’s neck and look at him, eyes wide, hair a mess, and Merlin would feel Arthur’s breath on his face, feel how close they were, feel how much Arthur wanted him.

The moments never came to fruition.

Soon enough, a week had gone by, and Merlin only a few days left as human. If he couldn’t get Arthur to kiss him—and if that kiss didn’t come from a place of love—it would all be over soon.

Merlin felt the weight of that one morning when he woke up without Arthur. The bed was cold, and he was alone, and the longing in his chest to never feel this way again was overwhelming.

He didn’t want to turn back into a dragon. He wanted to stay here, in Camelot, with Arthur. Even if it meant never flying again, it would be worth it. Arthur was too big a part of him, now.

He sat up to find Arthur at his desk, looking at his dagger.

“How long have you been awake?” Merlin asked. He got out of bed and came over to the desk.

“Since before dawn. Woke up from a dream.”

“About the dragon?” Merlin guessed.

“About magic.” Arthur set down the dagger and pushed it across the desk towards Merlin.

Merlin picked it up, struck again by how much he could sense the magic in it.

“I was raised to believe that magic is the most evil thing there is,” Arthur said.

“Magic is just magic.”

“It’s up to those who use it whether it inflicts harm or good.”

“Exactly.” Merlin set the dagger down.

Arthur took the dagger back and looked up at Merlin. “I’ve seen you looking better.”

Merlin managed a small smile, but he was still feeling bereft from the shock of waking up alone, and he knew the feeling would only grow worse once he was a dragon again.

“Should we go for a ride?” Arthur asked.

“I would like that.”

Arthur put the dagger in his desk and stood. Merlin dressed him, got back into his own clothes for the day, and they went down to the stables.

The ride was as good as it could be with the reality of these being his last days with Arthur hanging over Merlin’s head. He couldn’t shake the feeling of how terrible it had been to wake up alone, lonely, all on his own. He’d grown so used to having Arthur there with him, used to slow morning and soft whispers and gentle touches.

Even that night, as Merlin wrapped himself securely around Arthur in bed, it felt futile. It mattered little what he did now, how close he held Arthur here—in just a few short days, it would all be lost.

Merlin didn’t feel any better the next day, even though he woke with Arthur still in his arms.

He didn’t feel any better as he used his magic to scrub the floors that morning.

He didn’t feel any better as he took a bath with Arthur, not even when they came together under the water, hands all over each other, mouths exploring every stretch of skin except for that crucial spot that would let Merlin keep this forever.

He didn’t feel any better the day after, either, and then he only had one day left. He woke up nearly crying, holding Arthur close and breathing him in, trying to hang on to pleasant feelings for just a little longer.

Arthur turned around in Merlin’s embrace and pressed their foreheads together.

“I’m used to being the moody one,” he said. “I don’t know what to do when it’s you.”

“I’m sorry.”

Arthur brought his hand up to Merlin’s head, carding his fingers through Merlin’s hair. Merlin closed his eyes, thinking he would miss these kinds of moments most of all.

“I know,” Arthur said suddenly. “Let’s go on a hunting trip. I haven’t taken you on one yet. They always cheer me up.”

“Just us?” Merlin asked, not wanting to share Arthur with anyone on his last day as human.

“Yes. Just us.”

“All right.”

They got up and dressed and then down to the armoury to pick out their hunting gear. Arthur took a crossbow, which looked terrifying, and Merlin took up a spear even though he had no idea how to use one.

They got two horses and rode out in a new direction, Arthur leading the way to a stretch of woods Merlin hadn’t been to before. The brush was dense, and after a while they had to tie the horses up and continue on foot. Arthur held the crossbow out in front of him, using it to move branches aside. Merlin held the spear awkwardly, not sure how to balance its weight. They moved through the woods silently, trying not to spook any potential prey.

Finally, Arthur came to a stop, holding up his hand to signal Merlin to do the same.

“There,” he whispered, pointing to the right. “Do you see it?”

Merlin squinted through the trees. There was something there, something very large.

Arthur loaded his crossbow and took a few quiet steps forward to line up his shot.

He took it, and the creature reared up and roared. Dread shivered down Merlin’s back. The creature hadn’t died. Arthur’s bolt had been enormous—it should have at least been too injured to move. But it was moving, directly towards them.

Arthur swore and took off, and Merlin ran after him, abandoning the spear on the forest floor.

They broke into a clearing, and Arthur slowed as he reloaded his bow. Merlin glanced over his shoulder and stumbled from the sight of it.

It was massive, and it had the body of a great cat and the head and wings of a bird. It howled as it ran towards them, and Merlin scrambled to keep running. It was a griffin, an ancient creature of magic, and it could only be killed by magic.

“Arthur, don’t, it’s no use!” he shouted as Arthur turned to shoot the thing again.

Arthur didn’t listen. He let the bolt fly, and it shattered as it bounced off its side.

“Use your dagger!” Merlin called out. “Use your dagger!”

Arthur just loaded another bolt as the beast closed in on them. It rose up on its hind legs, its wings stretched wide, its deadly beak and claws looming over Arthur.

It lowered itself, to attack, and Merlin had no choice.

He held out his hands, and a rush of magic flowed through him, out the ends of his fingers, and into the griffin.

It cried out, a pitiful sound, and then it collapsed to the ground.

Arthur stared at it for a few seconds, his chest heaving, and then he rounded on Merlin.

“What was that?” he demanded.

Merlin blinked and lowered his hands. “I—”

Arthur came over, getting right in Merlin’s face. “What was that?”

“I don’t—I—Arthur…”

“Was that magic?” He looked furious, his expression wild. “Was that magic? I saw your eyes glowing gold.” He was practically shouting.

Merlin took a step back. “Arthur—”

“Are you him?” Arthur asked. “He had golden eyes. Are you the dragon?”

The question hung between them, and Merlin swallowed with some difficulty. This was the moment.

“Never mind,” Arthur muttered. “I’m being ridiculous.” He looked back at the griffin. “That… that was magic, though. I know it. I saw it.”

“Yes,” Merlin said. “I have magic. I—I’m the dragon. It was me.”

Arthur shook his head. “Don’t mock me, Merlin.”

“I’m not.” Merlin took a step forward, and Arthur looked at him warily. “Arthur, it was me. I was in the cave with you. I turned human to be with you.”

Arthur shook his head again. He picked up his crossbow from where it had fallen to the ground and took off in the direction they’d come from.

“Arthur—”

Arthur just held up his hand, and Merlin took that to mean he wasn’t interested in hearing anything Merlin had to say.

Merlin followed him back through the woods to their horses. Arthur packed up his crossbow and mounted his horses, walking off without waiting for Merlin.

Merlin struggled to mount his horse—Arthur always still helped him—but managed it okay and got his horse to follow in the direction of Arthur’s.

The ride back felt like it only took a few minutes. They arrived at the stables, and Arthur dismounted, handed his horse’s reins over to a stableboy, and went into the castle.

Merlin got off his own horse with difficulty and went up to Arthur’s chambers, but he found them locked.

He rested his forehead against the door, his stomach and chest clenching at the thought that he might never see Arthur again and that their last moments together had been so fraught.

He went to Gaius’s. Gaius greeted him warmly, but Merlin just waved and went to his room. He closed the door and fell onto the bed.

All he’d done was save Arthur’s life—three times now—and all he was getting for it was a life alone. He would turn back into a dragon tomorrow and never see Arthur again. It would all have been for nothing.

Merlin ignored Gaius’s calls for supper and stayed on top of the covers until nightfall, and then he crawled under them, not bothering to undress. He looked up at the ceiling for a long time, waiting for sleep to overtake him, but it never did.

He couldn’t sleep alone. He couldn’t sleep without Arthur next to him.

In the middle of the night, unable to bear how miserable and lonely he was, Merlin got out of bed and climbed up on the desk to look out the window.

At least now he’d be able to fly again.

There was a burst of sound from out in the main room, and Merlin could hear Gaius speaking to someone.

Curious, he opened the door to his room and looked out. Two guards were there. Merlin recognised them as some of the ones who usually stood outside Arthur’s room at night.

“Merlin,” Gaius said. “Arthur’s requesting your presence in his chambers.”

Merlin could only imagine why.

He pulled on his boots and followed the guards through the castle. When they reached Arthur’s chambers, Merlin knocked, feeling a little foolish.

Arthur called out for him to enter, so Merlin did, closing the door behind him.

Arthur was by the windows, still dressed from the day, the dagger in his hands.

Merlin stood by the table for what felt like an age, waiting for Arthur to say something, anything.

“Don’t lie to me,” Arthur finally said. He turned, brandishing the dagger toward Merlin. “Are you the dragon?”

“I am,” Merlin said.

“How are you human?”

“I went to the Isle of the Blessed, and a High Priestess of the Old Religion granted me a favour.”

Arthur clenched his jaw.

“I know one of them killed your mother,” Merlin said. “And I am sorry for that. But it was the only way I could get close to you again.”

“Why did you want to be close to me?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Arthur looked at him for a long moment, and then he sighed and set the dagger down on his desk. He sat heavily in his chair, rubbing his hands over his eyes.

“Well at least this explains all the silver I found under my bed.”

Merlin wanted to make a joke about it, about his tendency to hoard and how Arthur’s bed had become like a home, but in the end there was nothing to say.

“I need to tell you something,” Arthur said, and Merlin was surprised. He had thought he’d been the only one keeping secrets. “I was part of the group that took you down.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I hunted you. I was on a mission to try to improve relations with Cenred, and he invited me on a hunting trip, and—I was there. I helped capture you and bring you to the cave.”

Merlin felt weak. “I don’t remember you,” he said, as if that mattered. He didn’t remember anyone from that day beside Cenred and Morgause, and that was only because they’d been the ones to chain him up.

“I was there,” Arthur said. “And I truly could not be more sorry.”

Merlin just looked at him, completely at a loss as to what to say.

“I can assure you, I’ve more than learned my lesson. The dragon... you. You saved my life. Several times now, it seems. I understand now that magic—it’s not a force for evil. It seems the most evil comes from when it’s being suppressed. But I know it can be good.” He looked down at the dagger. “I know better now.”

Merlin knew he was being honest. He had learned. He had changed.

“Thank you,” Merlin said. “I am glad you understand that now.”

Arthur nodded and looked back up. “Now what?”

“Now…” Merlin pursed his lips. “Now I must leave.”

Arthur’s face fell, and Merlin ached to make it better, but there was nothing he could do.

“I am to turn back into a dragon tomorrow,” he said. “I should thank you for all the time we’ve spent together. I don’t regret any of it.”

“Not even when I shouted at you?”

“Not even when you ignored me for several days.”

Arthur gave a sad smile. He stood and rounded the desk, moving into Merlin’s space. He took Merlin’s hands in his and sighed.

“Is there nothing I can do to help?” he asked. “Must you turn back again?”

Merlin allowed himself to look down at Arthur’s lips. If he just asked, maybe…

But it was no use. Even if he did ask, if Arthur didn’t love him, it wouldn’t matter.

“I was only given a month,” he said. “My time is up.”

“Such a short amount of time.” Arthur raised his hands to Merlin’s cheeks. “I’ll miss you,” he whispered, and then he kissed Merlin.

Merlin gasped, feeling magic ripple through him. He could feel the change in his body, the magic taking hold and keeping him human, forever this time.

“What was that?” Arthur asked, breath hot on Merlin’s lips.

“The spell,” Merlin said. “I… I don’t have to go back to being a dragon, now.”

“What do you mean?”

“The High Priestess. She gave me a month, and if I didn’t get true love’s first kiss by the end of it, I would turn back, but… I think I just got it.”

Arthur gaped at him for a moment, and then he burst out laughing. “Well, why didn’t you say anything?” he asked. He went in for another kiss, a longer one, a deeper one, and Merlin leaned into it, taking everything Arthur was giving.

“I thought you didn’t want to kiss me,” he said when Arthur pulled away. “You never did, not even when we were…”

“I couldn’t. I couldn’t let myself go there, it would have been too hard. I convinced myself I could never have you, really have you, not in the way I wanted. I was trying to protect myself.”

“And now?”

“Now I don’t care. Let my father do what he will. You’re here, now, servant or not, dragon or not, and I would have you above anything else.”

Merlin grinned, and Arthur gave him a soft kiss.

“Why didn’t you ever kiss me?” Arthur asked. “If that was all it would take, you could have ages ago.”

“It wouldn’t have done anything. It had to be you.”

Arthur kissed him again, long and sweet. “Have we done enough to make the spell stick?”

“I think so.”

“Good.” Arthur reached for Merlin’s hands again. “Come to bed with me.”

“Always.”

They changed, both into Arthur’s nightclothes, and slotted together under the covers. Arthur pressed his back to Merlin’s chest, and Merlin wrapped his arm around Arthur’s middle, and they fit together like they had been born for it.

“I brought the silver back down to the kitchens,” Arthur said. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s all right. I can replace it.”

Arthur chuckled tiredly and pulled Merlin closer. “In the morning,” he said, already sounding half asleep, “will you show me your magic?”

Merlin grinned against Arthur’s neck and pressed a kiss to the skin there. “Of course.”

Arthur covered Merlin’s hand with his own, and Merlin entwined their fingers.

“Goodnight Arthur,” he whispered.

Arthur murmured a response, and Merlin tightened his grip on him, breathing him in, and went to sleep happily, knowing now that he would have this every night for as long as he wished, and didn’t think he would ever wish for anything else again.