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It was a very difficult road to follow to be part of Great Britain’s Olympic football team. Arthur wouldn’t wish it on his worst enemy. The scrutiny he and Merlin had been subjected to had sometimes felt like harassment. It wasn’t just the invasive questions about their personal life that the press launched into the air—as if Arthur hadn’t learned his lesson long ago never to answer banter like that. The worst part was the questioning from the Team GB committee.
“They asked me if our marriage was valid, Merlin,” Arthur protested via FaceTime. He hated that Merlin had decided to visit his Mum while Arthur was being ‘considered as a candidate for the football team,’ although he would never admit to feeling so lonely. “Valid for whom? For the law, of course it fucking is! They sure as hell don’t ask that of any straight player.”
“At least they didn’t ask you about our sex life. That would have been illegal.” Merlin’s irritated tone and angry expression on his behalf sobered Arthur. He didn’t want his husband to feel bad about this.
“I think I’m going to decline,” Arthur said, lowering his eyes to the keypad on his computer. “It’s not worth it that they are only inviting me because the French committee asked them to include queer representation when possible in their teams.”
“If that’s what you want to do, you know I’ll support you, Arthur,” Merlin said, understanding. Arthur looked up at his big, bright blue eyes and wished—again—for Merlin to be here. “But I also know you’ll wonder forever if you’d have taken the team to win the gold. You’d regret not having been there, playing and showing the world what a gay player can do.”
Arthur knew Merlin was right. Despite the ugly comments on social media about his possible participation in the team, he would never forget that he surrendered to them. And he had dreamed of going to the Olympic Games since he started playing.
“I just hate that I’ve never been invited to play before,” he shook his head. “I feel like I’m only good for them because I’m gay.”
“You’re only 25, Arthur,” Merlin reasoned. “And, admittedly, you were very good when you played there, but it was debatable. You’re better now, and your score says it.”
Arthur sighed deeply. He couldn’t fight Merlin being all reasonable.
“Have you talked to any Camelot players?” Merlin asked after a moment of silent consideration.
“Yes.” Arthur touched his forehead, his lips curled up in a small smile. “Lancelot and Gwaine have been called up. Leon will be the coach.”
“That’s great! You’ll get to play with them again, like old times,” Merlin cheered.
“Valiant has been called, too.”
The worst comments in the field had always come from Essiter’s team in general and Valiant in particular. He and Cendred were the worst homophobes Arthur had ever met. Sometimes, he couldn’t understand why, at a point in his life, he considered them friends.
“I’m sorry, Arthur.” Merlin lowered his eyes for a second. “But maybe this is the right time to show him, and everyone else, that you’re the best player despite who you bed and that they made a mistake letting you go?”
“You truly want me to participate in the Games, ah?” Arthur snorted.
Merlin bit down on his lower lip before answering. “I know how much you’ve given up for me—”
“Because I love you,” Arthur cut in firmly.
“You let go of so many things for our love,” Merlin amended with a smile. “I don’t think it’s fair that anyone forces you into making a decision like this when, if we’d never come out, you would be playing the Olympics without a worry in the world.”
“But I wouldn’t have you and our life in Paris together,” Arthur reminded him. “And excuse me, but I don’t regret that.”
“Then don’t allow them, or me, to take your dream of playing for Team GB away from you. Even if it has to be because you’re their gay token, you’ll be there, and you’ll shut them up bringing the gold home.”
Arthur was not made to resist Merlin, and even less when he was being so enthusiastic.
“Okay.”
«--»
At least in the boat during the Opening Ceremony—one of the biggest in the parade—Arthur was just one more in a blue uniform waving his little flag.
The press pressure around his calling up had been smaller than he thought, but those who protested were harder in their wording than ever. Arthur and Merlin’s relationship had been trashed and insulted. Arthur was so angry. But it was also true that Merlin pointed out the only thing they had against him was the fact that he was gay. There was not a word about his playing because he was even more brilliant now than he had been when playing for Camelot.
“Why the pout? You missing your husband already?” Gwaine punched him playfully on the shoulder. “I’m sure he’s at home warm and cosy, looking at the opening on TV instead of getting fucking wet.”
Arthur was going to answer, but Lancelot beat him. “Like you’re not missing someone back at home,” he smirked.
“In fact, everything I want is in this boat,” Gwaine laughed, giving a sideward look to Percival, who had been called to substitute their goalkeeper with an unfortunate lesion. “My friends, good-looking people around and Paris.”
“Paris through the rain,” Lancelot complained.
“This is not normal in July, but that it rains like this during the year? Trust me. It is,” Arthur explained. He wished he could take off his mind the distracting image of Merlin Gwaine had presented because it made him miss the warmth of being surrounded by Merlin’s arms all the more.
Distractedly, he touched his wedding band. Gwaine squeezed his shoulder, understandingly and comfortingly.
The production cameras focused on their boat at that moment, and everyone started cheering and waving. Luckily, most of the attention was on Tom Daley and Helen Glober, their flag bearers, doing their imitation of the Titanic scene—but for a second, Arthur could see himself on the big screens along the river. It lasted a couple of seconds, but the implication from the Paris production wasn’t subtle.
“Of course, they had to focus on the poofs,” Valiant complained from somewhere at Arthur’s back.
Again, Arthur made to answer him with some anger of his own, but this time, Gwaine talked first.
“As I see it, you had two options for sucking the camera, man. Either you’d have been born more handsome and less stupid, or you’d have declined to come and to try to make our lives miserably boring complaining on National TV.”
“I’m going to kill you, Green!” Valiant shook his fist into the air.
“Whatever, man. See who comes in to play on the field and cry,” Gwaine teased him further.
“Stop it. It’s not worth it,” Arthur pleaded, putting a hand on Gwaine’s shoulder. “He can’t spoil our opening ceremony.”
“The rain is doing that well enough,” Lancelot laughed.
They kept themselves away from Valiant for the rest of the Opening Ceremony, but only because Lancelot told Leon, who warned them all seriously that if someone started a fight during the Games, they would be sent home.
At least Arthur’s wasn’t that far away.
«--»
It was a shame that the press picked up on them not talking to Valiant and two other team members except the bare minimum because it cost them a serious team talk from Leon. Even Gwaine’s intent to lighten the mood with a “Since you’ve retired from playing to be a trainer, you’re not fun, White” didn’t make Arthur feel less guilty.
Their debut against Türkiye’s team made them suffer way too much to win when it should have been a walk in the park. Leon blamed it on their lack of communication and their inability to work as a team, but they all knew the players had divided against or in favour of Arthur being in the Games. Those against him might be only four players, but they were very loud about their protests for Pendragon being one of the only three allowed to participate above the Olympic age.
Valiant asserted Cendred was far better—which he wasn’t, according to their numbers. But still, a loud, small part of the British public sided with Valiant’s comments.
Thankfully, the media adored Merlin and his instant bonding with the team’s wives and girlfriends. The hashtag #TeamGBSpouses was trending during each game’s time, and the coverage was mostly of pictures and videos of the VIP box and Merlin’s happy face at being made “one of them.”
Arthur couldn’t be more pleased for him, and he was immensely glad to be able to look up and see him there with the Union Jack, cheering them on.
But the pressure from all the nasty comments about his gayness took a toll on him, and it affected his playing. He failed easy passes or missed the ball in a receive which owed him some boos from the stands. But the comforting presence of Merlin in all his games, his smile, and his bright eyes focused only on him made Arthur lift his chin and keep going.
However, the press headings were difficult to deal with. Every win was a team effort; every loss was Arthur’s personal failure. It felt like his playing was being observed by Uther again. But how could he not believe the comments when they insisted so hard on it, when they blamed his age, his time away from the UK, or his physical form?
It was only a matter of time until Arthur failed a penalty regardless of the rest of his teammates’ encouragement and Merlin’s nice words every night to compensate.
The fact that the Spanish goalkeeper was one of the best in the Games so far and that it had been pouring—which made the ball more difficult to control than usual—wasn’t enough detriment to stop the press raging against him again. They lost 2-1, so not even Arthur being the one to serve GB’s goal changed the comments.
Arthur was supposed to sleep in the Olympic Villa with the rest of the team, but that night, he couldn’t even think about it.
“I asked Leon to sit me out for the next game,” Arthur said sadly, wrapped in Merlin’s gentle arms and cocooned with him in their bed.
“Why?” Merlin questioned, lifting his chin from where it rested against Arthur's chest so they could look at each other. “Are you perhaps the only player failing a penalty during a game to warrant yourself such a punishment? How are you going to shove their ugly comments back into their arses if you don’t try again?”
“It’s just… I don’t want to fail the team again,” Arthur couldn’t hold Merlin’s gaze. Merlin knew him well enough to realise that wasn’t all. “And. It’s like… I feel Uther’s displeasure over me every time I fail.”
Merlin caressed Arthur’s back gently, long movements that made Arthur want to cry with the comfort they provided.
“I am proud of you,” Merlin whispered, kissing the top of Arthur’s head and pressing him closer. “Proud enough to cover for your poor excuse of a father and a whole country, Arthur.”
That night, it was all about comfort and skin contact. Sweet words of praise that Arthur needed more than he cared to admit. Arthur would have sworn that he wasn’t in the mood for sex—he rarely was during football tournaments—but when Merlin caressed him, bringing him to full arousal with an expert grip, he moaned wantonly into Merlin’s mouth as he pushed into his fist.
“You, too,” he begged, lips resting over Merlin’s plump ones. “Together.”
As soon as Merlin’s cock slid alongside his own, precome mixing and shafts rubbing, Arthur was done. Luckily, Merlin must have been more sex-deprived than he could confess. With only a few thrusts, he was coming in his hand, splattering his release on Arthur’s stomach and prick, triggering Arthur’s own climax.
“I love you, Arthur Pendragon,” Merlin said when they were clean and hugging each other again in bed. “No failed penalty is going to change that. And it won’t change what a great player you are, either.”
“I love you, too,” Arthur whispered, his voice cracking a little as he pressed himself even closer, hiding his head underneath Merlin’s chin.
Surprisingly, he slept well.
«--»
Leon laughed at him when he still asked to be seated for the next game.
“I didn’t think you were a coward, Pendragon,” Valiant said mockingly. “You failed; you make it better.”
“I hate to agree with him, you know?” Gwaine admitted. Arthur gritted his teeth because damn if he didn’t, as well.
“Don’t agree with me, Green. It makes me uncomfortable.” As soon as Valiant turned around, Percival faked a gag, and Gwaine laughed.
“Show all the bastards what Pendragon is made of!” Percival agreed. He hadn’t had good press either, self-called experts asking loudly if he had been a good substitute for the official goalkeeper ‘when his goal post looked like a strainer,’ so he should know exactly how Arthur felt.
They weren’t cowards, so they played in the next game and the next one after that and found support in his teammates and Merlin after each match.
Arthur served one goal and scored a beautiful one during their game against France in the Quarters, which put them neatly in the race for a medal. That caused the press to start saying nice things about his play.
Unfortunately, Brazil ran over them like a truck in the Semifinals, which not only put GB in the fight for bronze but also made the GB public consider the choice of players again.
It was the part of football that Arthur hated most—but that was the same regardless of the team. They were heroes one minute when they were on top and scoring non-stop. But the following second, they were good for nothing, and they would be better off substituted for someone younger—or straighter, in Arthur’s case.
“We can still bring home a medal,” Leon said after the game, in the same speech he would give to the press later. “Having an Olympic Bronze medal is still being an Olympic Champion. We fight until the end with teeth and nails and hearts. We won’t give up until the final minute is over.”
Arthur's anxiety peaked on the morning of the Men’s Bronze Medal Match—the consolation game, as many called it.
“You have nothing to worry about,” Merlin hugged him before they left the house for the Olympic arena.
“What if I fail? What if I’m the reason why GB doesn’t take a medal home?” Arthur muttered against the skin of Merlin’s neck.
“That’s only fear talking for you, Arthur.” Merlin passed a comforting hand down his back.
Uther had denied touching his son for as long as Arthur remembered. He couldn’t even be sure his father had ever held him. That was why, every time he scored, he dedicated his goals to his mother. Because he was sure she would have loved him and nurtured him with loving caresses, no matter what. And he always dedicated his goals to Merlin, too. Because in spite of everything they had gone through together, Merlin had never denied Arthur a comforting touch.
“I’d be happy to retire after this game. I’m thinking about it, medal or not,” Arthur confessed when they finally separated, taking his bag and heading for the door.
“You know I’d support you in all your decisions, but are you sure?” Merlin asked, biting down on his lower lip.
“I’m seriously considering it. I know I still have some good years in Paris, but I’m not sure I enjoy playing as much as I used to anymore. I’m tired, Merlin.”
“Then bring us a medal to celebrate?” Merlin smiled at him, and if nothing else, that made Arthur’s heart race with emotion and challenge.
That was the feeling he took onto the field when he entered alongside his GB teammates for their last game in the Olympics. Ending up fourth, getting only an Olympic Diploma, wasn’t enough now.
Leon reminded them of every good thing they had done during the Games, naming each one of the players that had taken part in any game, even if just for a minute. Arthur had to say that it was such a difference from Kilgharrah, Camelot’s coach when he played for them, and a completely new approach his father would hate!
But it worked. Lancelot scored neatly in the German’s goalpost only a few minutes after the initial whistle, and they managed to maintain the score until the last minutes of the second part’s discount time, with Arthur serving precise passes that should have ended up in a goal, but that ended going too high or against the posts. They could almost taste victory.
And then Germany scored. No amount of protest made the referee take down the 1-1, and so they went to overtime.
They had only 5 minutes to start playing, and despite Leon’s instructions, all Arthur could pay attention to was Merlin in the VIP box, waving the flag and screaming for him. If he wasn’t mistaken, the beautiful blonde woman by his side who cheered and bumped shoulders amicably with his husband—was Valiant’s girlfriend.
“She said that your husband is the nicest person she’s ever met,” Valiant said after spitting out part of the water he had been drinking, sweaty and eyeing lovingly the box with their families. “Her younger sister is a lesbian, and they have a settler for teenagers back at home. She said I was as good as done if I didn’t stop being a cretin towards you. And I love her, you know?”
Valiant shrugged, and Arthur considered he looked like a puppy in love. He never thought Valiant could be seriously into someone.
“I love Merlin the same way,” he answered thoughtfully.
Valiant only nodded and moved away.
Those were a frustrating thirty minutes. Germany’s team closed down on their defense, and the players from Team GB were tired. Arthur made a pass to Lancelot, a goal he could have scored himself, and his teammate lost his footing and let the ball pass.
“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Lancelot said, chin dripping sweat and exhausted eyes looking apologetic.
“Don’t mention it,” Arthur answered, patting his shoulder comfortably. “I reckon we’ll be going to the penalties.”
And so it happened. With their tie score after the referee whistled at the end of overtime, the rules stated that they went to penalty shootouts. Germany’s five players were shooting professionals, and Percival confessed to being scared.
“You can do this, Percival,” Gwaine said firmly, squeezing the huge man’s shoulder. “I’ve got faith in you.”
Gwaine said something in their goalkeeper’s ear that made him blush intensely. He looked with wide, surprised eyes at him and then nodded fervently. Percival moved with more confidence towards his post than Arthur had seen him doing in any other match.
“What did you tell him?” Arthur questioned, looking at Gwaine.
“One tongue kiss for every goal he stops,” Gwaine grinned.
Arthur shook his head, smiling. He knew that both his teammates were bisexual and that Gwaine had been in love with Percival for longer than he would ever admit. But this courage in both was a new development. He was very happy for them.
His happiness was short-lived when Leon called the five GB players who would have their bronze medals in their hands. Or in their feet.
Valiant, Gwaine, Lancelot, and Elian were called up—and Arthur would be the last to shoot.
The first German player shot, and Percival seemed to read his movements. He stopped the goal and grinned, looking at Gwaine with a high blush.
Arthur wasn’t keen on confessing that he might have prayed for Valiant to mess up because his failure may have cost them the Olympic medal. But something ugly in his chest seemed to be pleased when his shot went too high. At least the Spanish goalkeeper had stopped Arthur’s failed penalty.
However, when his teammate came back sulking, Arthur was among the ones who told him it was all right, that it could happen to anyone. Valiant gazed at him and nodded, thankful. Arthur had to ask Merlin who his girlfriend was, who had been such a good influence on Valiant.
All the Team GB players scored one by one after Valiant. After Elian, the German player found himself a wall in Percival, who punched the air discreetly with the ball secured against his chest. Gwaine grinned madly in his direction.
Arthur felt his chest constrict as the time grew closer to his turn. Nobody wanted to play for the golden goal. He had to score.
He looked up at the stands and saw Merlin screaming alongside the rest of the people in the VIP box with a big sign that read: ‘Stick it in, Pendragon! You know how. Love you.’ Arthur laughed hard and felt his nerves dissolving when he walked towards the penalty point.
Just one more. If he scored, not only would he win the bronze medal for his team, he would recover the respect of the GB’s public—if they managed to get over Merlin’s explicit poster, that was.
He looked at the German goalkeeper and sighed deeply. He emptied his mind of the stadium's noise and his constant fear of disappointing Merlin, his father, his teammates, and his country. He could do this. For the last time.
He kicked the ball with precision, and it passed neatly so close to the goalkeeper that he touched it with his fingers. But it hit the net at his back without him being able to stop it. The public’s roar was deafening. Arthur dropped his body to his knees and hid his tears behind his hands.
His teammates fell upon him in an instant. The game ended 4 to 3 for Team GB. They were Olympic bronze champions.
Arthur didn’t remember another moment in his life in which he felt so relieved and happy at the same time. When he grabbed the hand that helped him to stand, he found Valiant smiling proudly at him.
“Well done, Pendragon,” he said, shaking their hands. “Not bad for a fucking French footballer.”
Arthur smiled brightly at him. His words were as good an apology as any. “You too, Valiant. You did a good job.”
The cameras had gone crazy on their little exchange, but even more so when the families were allowed into the field. Merlin ran towards him with only a yell for warning before jumping, and Arthur found himself hugged by his arms and legs.
“I love you so much!” Merlin yelled, voice hoarse from screaming during the game. “I’m so fucking proud of you!”
“I love you too,” Arthur beamed, supporting Merlin’s weight with one hand on his arse.
With the other, he made Merlin look at him, and they kissed right there, with the camera flashes falling on them. Gwaine whistled very close by and mockingly told them to get a room.
Arthur smiled intelligently at his teammate and still pecked Merlin’s lips once more before lowering him to the ground.
The medal ceremony would take place two days after the gold medal match, so they had time to rest until then. That didn’t mean they weren’t due for a huge celebration tonight.
«--»
Despite the party still going strong, Arthur convinced a champagne-tipsy Merlin that it was better to go home. Percival and Gwaine had left already, doing their best to ignore the mocking looks of their teammates.
In the taxi, Merlin half-drunkenly sang the National Anthem, the Union Jack around his neck. The driver smiled indulgently now and then through the rear mirror, clearly having recognised them.
“Bonne nuit, messieurs,” the driver said when they were already paying. “Félicitations pour gagner le médaille de bronze.”
“Merci beaucoup,” Arthur smiled at the man, who had just congratulated him for winning the bronze medal. “Bonne nuit.”
“It’s going to be a very good night, my love,” Merlin sniggered, hugging Arthur by his neck and getting in the way of him being able to open the main door to the building.
Once inside, he pressed Merlin against the cold marble wall and kissed him possessively. Merlin moaned into his mouth and arched his body to touch Arthur’s.
“I’m so fucking proud of you,” Merlin whispered when they parted for breath, Merlin’s warm, tasting like champagne and victory tongue getting between Arthur’s parted lips. “I want you naked and under me,” he murmured hotly.
“Here?” Arthur laughed.
“No. In our bed. Where I can pound into you and make you scream until your voice is as hoarse as mine.”
“Think we can make it to the flat before I pass out? Because only lust is allowing me to stand now.”
“Hang on to that, darling,” Merlin said urgently, pushing the old-fashioned elevator button several times. “I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”
They snogged like horny teenagers all the way up to their floor, and they were pulling at each other’s clothes before the door had closed behind them. Arthur’s legs carried him to the bed by pure instinct, and he groaned already in pleasure when his back touched the mattress.
“You just lie there and take your pleasure,” Merlin said, pulling Arthur’s underwear down and freeing his fat cock. “You deserve it after all you’ve done tonight.”
“God, I love you so much.” Arthur’s voice was already two octaves lower, lust-filled and thick.
Merlin took the bottle of lube before moving between Arthur’s opened legs. He gently bit the inside of his thighs. Arthur didn’t bottom often, but he enjoyed it so much every time he did. Merlin knew how to push every single one of his buttons; those in his body and those in his mind.
“You’re so incredibly hot, Arthur.” Merlin’s whisper blew hot breath over Arthur’s aching arousal.
Before Arthur had time to protest or beg, Merlin engulfed him, and Arthur could only cry out as pleasure zipped up his spine. He still hadn’t gotten his breath back when Merlin circled his entrance with a lubed finger.
“Please, don't,” Arthur sobbed, pushing his hips down. “Don’t tease.”
“You know I’ll fuck you again with your medal on, right?” Merlin muttered, pushing the finger in wholly but slowly.
“I won’t expect any less,” Arthur grunted. “Move, Merlin. More.”
“Bossy.” Merlin took him in his mouth again and quickly added another finger, scissoring them to open him further and grazing his prostate on the way.
Arthur was panting by the time Merlin added a third finger, undulating his hips to take them deeper. Merlin had opened his throat to accept his dick, and Arthur was losing his mind with all the stimulation. He was ready to come, and Merlin swallowing around him to drink his leaking seed wasn’t helping.
“Enough,” he said firmly. “I want my prize for winning.”
Merlin laughed but sat on his feet to lube up his aching cock. “Do you know what’s better about a bronze medal than a silver one?”
“What in the hell, Merlin,” Arthur complained, confused. “I want your cock now. The medal in two days.”
“If I don’t speak about something distracting, I’m going to come on the spot, clotpole.”
“Then please, oh great philosopher, tell me all about it,” Arthur laughed out loud, his chest filling with joy. He adored his husband; he loved that they could make love, smiling and teasing, laughing until their giggles were cut with moans.
“You’re a twat,” Merlin muttered and pushed inside him.
“I’m an Olympic Champion,” Arthur reminded him, voice strained as he felt Merlin opening him wider.
“That you are.” Merlin kissed him deeply as he bottomed out.
Merlin started moving in long, measured thrusts, and they rested their mouths on each other, breathing the same gasping air. Pleasure built so quickly that Arthur was on the verge of coming in only a few minutes.
“Merlin,” he groaned. “Please, make me come.”
“Can you come only on my cock?” Merlin whispered, lowering enough so that Arthur’s leaking dick rubbed against his flat stomach.
“Jesus Christ, Merlin, keep going!” Arthur cried out. “I need you to fill me.”
“You’re taking me so well, Arthur.” Merlin kissed his forehead, cheek, and mouth lushly. “Come for me.”
Arthur shouted as he climaxed, his release landing between their heated bodies and going as high as their chests.
“You’re so fucking beautiful when you come, Arthur,” Merlin gasped, pushing harder into him until he came inside Arthur.
The warmth of Merlin’s release felt like the prize he had won after the match.
Panting, they kissed with their tongues only until they regained their breaths and Merlin had gone soft inside him.
Arthur groaned when his husband went to find a towel to clean him. He felt exhausted and half-asleep by the time Merlin got in the bed and between his arms.
“Do you think we could walk along Champion's Park?” Merlin asked, kissing Arthur’s nearest pec. “After the medal ceremony.”
“You just want to check if you can meet Tom Daley,” Arthur laughed, shaking a little.
“Me?” Merlin questioned, a tease in his voice. “I really don’t understand why you don’t want to introduce us. You met him at the Opening Ceremony. It’s not fair. Are you jealous, perhaps?”
“I’m not!” Arthur answered immediately with a grunt and lifted Merlin’s chin to bite down on his lower lip possessively—and then, he noticed his words and actions might not match.
“We’re both perfectly married men, thank you,” Merlin giggled when Arthur released his mouth. “He’s very hot, though.”
Arthur pouted, and Merlin laughed at him, resting his head on Arthur’s shoulder, ready to sleep.
“Have you thought more about quitting?” Merlin asked suddenly.
“I don’t know,” Arthur answered honestly. “I’d like to go to university, maybe do sportsmanship and become a trainer. I want to go back home. But I’m not sure I’m truly ready to give up playing. Not for another season, at least. I’m not sure if it’s the adrenaline or the bronze talking.”
“All those things would be waiting for you. And I’ll be by your side. Always.”
Arthur kissed him, and Merlin closed his eyes.
After a few minutes of silence, it hit Arthur that Merlin had never concluded his reasoning about the medals.
“Merlin,” Arthur said, stifling a yawn. “Why is bronze better than silver?”
“Because to get a silver medal, you must lose,” Merlin answered drowsily. “And you win bronze. Bronze is always a celebration, and silver… Silver is not until very afterwards.”
Arthur mulled it over while he felt sleep winning the battle over him.
Olympic bronze or not, he got gold with Merlin.
THE END