Chapter Text
Apparently now, there was a hot spring by the edges of Camelot. Merlin had never seen it before, barring the dream he had the night before.
Crystal, bubbling water. Arthur, sitting to the side, staring into its depths.
He didn’t even have to be there to make the request anymore. If Merlin even dreamed, even thought that Arthur might need him it seemed that the very nature of the world would do everything it possibly could to force the two of them together.
Or, more accurately, force Merlin to Arthur’s side. The good little puppy that destiny had made him into.
The one he wanted to be more than anything else, if that was what bought Arthur too him.
Merlin made his way to the spring the in the middle of the night, as he always did. Somehow, he knew Arthur would already be there.
Waiting.
But the hot spring was alone.
It was in such an obvious spot, that Merlin had no idea how he had never known that it was there. And yet, as he lowered himself into the water, he wondered if such a natural thing could be man-made.
The water was warm.
For the first time that he had done this, Merlin felt no immediate urge to jump out of the water and run. To hit himself with a hundred different drying spells and forget all this happened.
The water soothingly bubbled behind him. It will be ok, it seemed to tell him, this is going to be good. Just wait and see.
Arthur arrived soon after.
He heard it in the trotting of hooves and the shout of a lonely voice. That same voice who wanted a portrait of Merlin in his bedroom.
Who believed every lie like it was told from Uther himself.
“You’re already here.”
Arthur slid down from his horse, trying it to a tree.
His legs almost collapsed beneath him as he sat before the hot spring water. Arthur’s hands met the floor, curling into the grass beneath him. As close as he could possibly be to the water before he was touching it.
“I knew you were coming. Thought you might want me here, is all.”
“I did. I do, yes. I haven’t seen you in a while.”
“No. I suppose you haven’t. Being as I haven’t been here.”
Merlin sighed internally. Even now, when they could finally talk after so long without, it seemed that they just were running around in circles. Darting around the point. Going through the motions as they had done so many times when he was Arthur’s servant.
When Arthur’s insults had rung hollow because he didn’t mean them, and when Merlin had deliberately knocked something over because the room was too quiet.
“I would like you to meet me, in a certain place. At a certain time. Could you do that?”
Merlin shrugged.
“I’m already here. Or was it that wedding invitation you wanted for me?”
Arthur slowly shook his head, wetting his chapped lips.
“Nothing like that. Is it possible for you to meet me in a certain location, at a certain time and not a moment sooner. And not with you appearing twenty minutes away in some random lagoon?”
“I could do that.”
Merlin sighed. He had long since faced that fact that he would not, in fact, be giving up after just a few times.
He was sweating in the heat from the water and took a few deep breaths.
“Wonderful. I’m glad you’re not that much of an idiot. The waterfall by the boarder, deep in the woods. We camped there a few times. Remember?”
“I remember.”
“Midpoint sun. Not a moment sooner.”
“I can do that.”
To Merlin’s surprise, Arthur groaned, and threw himself into a leaning position on the ground.
“Why are you being like that?”
“Like what?”
“You’re being all mopey again. I feel like I have greatly offended you.”
“You have greatly offended me,” Merlin sniped back, and Arthur’s face drew into it’s normal easy grin.
“Keep telling yourself that Merlin.”
“And you keep telling yourself that you are not a supercilious prat, but I don’t think you’ve managed to put it into the world much.”
“Merlin?”
“Yes?”
“Shut up.”
A wide, uncontrolled grin stretched across Merlin’s face, and he turned down to try and surreptitiously wipe some sweat of his face.
No, Arthur, of course water spirits don’t feel any stimulation. That is perfectly reasonable.
“Unless, of course, you would be willing to change your mind?”
“On what?”
“Y’know,” Arthur gestured towards the water, and then to himself, with a wave of his hand.
“You know what I am going to say.”
“No hurt trying.”
“It would hurt. A lot actually, more than you could possibly think.”
In the old days, they never fell silent. They never had the need to not speak unless one of them was making a point. No matter if they were angry, or miserable or anything in between.
Even if it was nothing but lies, sometimes from both of them, they never sat in silence.
But, Merlin supposed, that was before he was dead.
“You don’t come to my room anymore.”
“Should I have?”
“Well. You have a basin in there for you to use it. I talk to that bloody thing sometimes because I am so lonely. And yet, you can appear here before I arrive, and not there where I want you.”
“Well, you know me, I like to be difficult.”
“I don’t know you. Not at all, not really. I don’t think I ever really did.”
“I’m still the same person.”
“I didn’t know who he was either.”
“We’ve talked about this before.”
“And abandoned it halfway through. You always thought you were so clever Merlin.”
Merlin shrugged. He knew he wasn’t clever. He might have been once, but the water and Arthur seemed to be melting away at the little logic that he had.
But still that painting haunted him. Every time he closed his eyes, that visual played behind his eyes. An ever pressing, never ending torment.
A sign that Arthur truly had cared for him, or at least cared for what he offered. That he really did miss Merlin, outside of the obvious.
That he thought about him. Thought about him enough to accurately pay an artist to create the new form Merlin was in with shocking likeness.
That he wanted some part of him in his rooms, even when he thought Merlin was gone.
Arthur pointed a finger at him.
“Do you have any idea how frustrating you are? You don’t even have to be alive in order to cause chaos and conflict. Gaius is even mad at me, because you’ve not shown up for him.”
“Is that why you want me at the waterfall? To be yelled at by him for something I can’t control?”
“No. Certainly not. I have…some special things planned for that day. Very special, indeed.”
Merlin looked down at his hands.
***
Merlin walked through the woods alone that night, familiarising himself with the paths that surrounded Camelot.
He would be lying if he ever said that he couldn’t do this in his sleep, and yet when he stumbled over an old root or hit his head on a tree branch it felt so new. Like the very first time he trekked this path all those years ago, having just left Ealdor.
Everything had changed since then. He had become a liar, a murderer, a thief and a convict. He had committed treason, befriended a prince and dedicated his life to the love of another.
And then he had run away from it all. Thought he was well and done with everything.
And yet, he had come back.
You are going to be okay, the trees seemed to say to him.
“I am going to be happy,” is what Merlin said back.
***
Merlin had no idea what to expect from the meeting at the waterfall. When he had still lived in Camelot, it had been, unquestionably, his favourite place.
The flowers dotted around the rushing, crashing water like hundreds of tiny gemstones. Scattered by the hand of some giant coming home after a day of work.
You couldn’t even see the city of Camelot from it, and the clearing eclipsed anything that wasn’t whole, natural, or perfect.
Once, Merlin had seen a unicorn drinking from the stream.
He had shoved on his old river clothes, which now were near permanently damp, and had an odd texture and smell for being so close to the water all the time.
He would have to give an excuse as to why he wore a different outfit the next time.
But not now, not when Arthur was so hoping for something normal. Something like what they used to do when Merlin was alive.
He didn’t dare bring a horse far, choosing to walk the last few moments through the woodlands. The tree’s whispered him forward in the way they did, and when Merlin heard water running, he knew he was coming home.
Wait until midpoint sun. Not a second before.
Arthur had told him what to do, but Merlin never had been good at following instructions. With another uncomfortable invisibility spell, he was moving forward.
Forward through the trees.
Forward through the undergrowth.
Forward towards Arthur.
He was already in the clearing when Merlin arrived.
And it was a good thing he had arrived as early as he did, as nothing could have prepared Merlin for the sight that lay before him.
Arthur had situated a picnic blanket on the ground under one of the overhanging trees by the water. Plates and bowls and cups, and so much food. Everything was in some kind of bowl or serving dish.
This was not the usual picnic form – these were the royal silverware and china. And neither was Arthur’s outfit, as he wore that wonderful white and flowy shirt that he sometimes did.
When he wanted to look charming and down to earth. When he, quite literally, didn’t want to feel the weight of royalty holding him down.
So, this was why.
Was this what Arthur had planned, Merlin watched as he lit a candle, to have Merlin supervise and perhaps give his opinion on whatever royal girl he was courting? The one he had told Merlin about before.
But there wasn’t a woman, nor a second horse in sight. And Merlin certainly hadn’t seen one coming.
Arthur collapsed onto the blanket.
“Merlin?” He whispered into the air.
And Merlin obliged. He quickly stepped into the water, wading against the waterfall’s current and clung to the mud just in front of Arthur.
And then the spell was removed. It took a moment before Merlin dared to open his eyes.
“Hello, Arthur.”
The blond man propped himself up on his arms, giving him the biggest smile Merlin had ever seen.
It was a smile of warmth. A smile of sunshine.
“Where’s your date?” Merlin found himself asking, abuzz with questions. A smile hid his face. “I doubt she would actually want me here of all people. The ghost of a servant is perhaps not the best companion.”
Arthur leaned forward, near crawling off the blanket to get to Merlin.
“And that is where you are mistaken, Merlin. As it rather turns out, against all logical reasoning, you are my date.”
Merlin froze.
“But I’m dead. According to you.”
“Yes, and I’m a King, according to you. It doesn’t stop anything, not in any way that matters.”
“I can’t touch you, Arthur.”
“And me neither, you don’t see me moaning about it like a girl.”
“You moan about it plenty!”
Arthur rolled his eyes. Merlin had more questions than he had ever had in his life. Why me? Are you sure? Why would you want to date a dead man, especially one you showed no interest in during life?
Why would he want to date a man, period?
“Do you want bread?”
Merlin nodded.
A bowl was pushed into the water, and Merlin could have cried when he realised how careful Arthur had been to ensure that Merlin could eat everything as they sat there. Like a real, proper date.
They ate in silence, occasionally giving each other meaningful looks and Merlin asking Arthur to pass him one item or another.
And soon, they relaxed.
They told stories, laughed over that weeks petitions (“No Merlin, we can’t just throw the farmers out over some pigs. Trust me, I’ve tried.” And “But you could just fire all the advisors. There is nothing actually stopping you.” “That Merlin is the best idea you have had all day.” “You could hire villagers instead!” “Now that on the other hand…”)
There was a sort of quiet romanticism about sitting in such a beautiful place, talking about everything and anything on their minds. And Merlin found that he wasn’t swaying towards the lies, having to hide them actively. They just…seemed to be less important. Forgettable almost.
Arthur looked down and kissed the tip of his own fingers. He held them out as if he wanted to touch Merlin on the forehead. “I love you.” I wish I could touch you, went silently.
For the first time, Merlin understood.
And something inside Merlin broke. It was like a great wall, or a dam crashed from somewhere deep within him. In that moment, that one sign of true affection from Arthur. It was like every boundary he had tried to draw up faded into nothingness. And disappeared with the evening sun.
Merlin leaned forward and kissed him.
It was a long moment when he pulled back. And Arthur was horrifyingly, completely and utterly still. Had made no effort to kiss back at all.
Had he screwed up that badly? He had been so sure.
Reaching up Merlin cupped Arthur’s warm face in his cold palm. Warm like sunshine.
And only then, only then did something in Arthur face change. Did he truly and completely realise what was going on, and the biggest grin Merlin had ever seen crossed his face.
“You’re still here.” Arthur panted against his lips, bringing his arms around Merlin to hold him close.
“Yes, I am, yes.” Merlin’s breathing was heavy too, and he was soaking wet and straining against the side of the lake to hold him. It must have been horrifically uncomfortable, but the grin on Arthur’s face told him that he didn’t care.
“Did you finally do it? Bring me here with you?”
“No, Arthur, I didn’t have too.”
A look of adoration came upon his face.
“I understand if you want me to-.”
“Please, Merlin, just…hold me. And promise me you did nothing idiotic to be able to do it.”
“Never. It was only stupid that it took me this long.”
“Promise?”
“On my mother, father, and Gaius.”
“Father?”
“Long story.”
“But you can come back now, can’t you? To Camelot?”
And Merlin awkwardly climbed out of the water. He ended up rolling around in an almost ludicrous way and ended up on his belly.
Water dripped from his hair and he coughed as he swallowed some.
And Arthur drew him back into his arms.
And once he had caught his breath, kissed him again.
And for the first time, Merlin knew he would understand.
Arthur always did, in the end.