Chapter Text
Merlin had expected it to be a fight. He had feared he would have to battle the Nichtghest with everything he had to lead her back into the realm of death where she belonged. He had never imagined it could be so easy. He stood there, alive but not, and stepped forward as she reached for him.
'Please,' she whispered, shuddering from head to foot. 'Help me!'
The magic rose around them, a cresting tide as Merlin gripped her fingers in his palm. The walls of the castle melted away. He felt his power stretch, the physical world spinning out of his reach.
It could have been terrifying, like trying to grip shifting sand, but he could feel a stalwart presence holding him in place. It was not a manacle to restrict him, but something that would grow or shrink to meet his needs. Nothing would sunder it, and Merlin let out a quiet breath as he realised that it must be the bond connecting him to Arthur: resolute.
All this time he had been terrified of what he might become, and his salvation had been right there at his side. He had lived in fear of what his own future may hold, unaware that he was already shielded from it by Arthur's very presence. Now that he knew, it made the most perfect kind of sense.
Two sides of the same coin, after all.
'This way,' he urged, stepping forward to lead the woman deeper into the waiting veils. There was nothing sharp or harsh about the world around them. Instead, it felt warm and comforting, like returning home after a long journey.
With every step of those dainty, slippered feet, she seemed to come back to herself. The strange, jagged twitches fell away, and the tears dried on her face. The pain tormenting her features eased, revealing the character of the person beneath.
How long had she been hoping for rescue, Merlin wondered. True, she had the potential to be something dangerous and terrible, but to his mind, it was no different from Freya's curse. This woman was as much a victim as anyone she would have hurt had they left her untended.
Part of him was tempted to ask what had happened to her, but the whisper of wisdom in his ear made him hold his tongue. This was not a place for regrets. This was where people came to let go of all their worldly concerns, and his companion was no different. Even as he watched, her stride picked up its pace, as if she sensed something waiting for her and was eager to be at its side once more.
A moment later, he felt it: the edge of a precipice – a line that he could not cross, not without surrendering himself entirely to what lay ahead. This was as far as a living warlock, even one of his power, could go. Yet one look at the woman told him it was far enough. A smile tilted her lips, and the ravaged lines of her face softened. The shadows that had plagued her dispersed, leaving her glowing in their absence.
'Thank you,' she whispered, holding his hand tight. 'I have nothing to give in recompense, but thank you.'
'What's your name?' Something in him keened to know it. To make sure that this woman would be remembered still, even if it was only in the shadows of his own mind.
'Amelie.'
Merlin smiled and inclined his head. 'Goodbye, Amelie.'
She disappeared with the softest sigh, vanishing to nothing but mist. Around him, the air shivered, and he took a deep breath before turning to face the journey back. That, he realised, was the hard part.
Where this plane had welcomed him into its embrace, he could now feel how it clung, slipping down beneath his skin to pluck at something integral. It felt as if lead weighted his limbs while his thoughts cracked and slipped in his mind without purpose. He had to concentrate to remember that this was not where he belonged. Arthur was waiting for his return, and he forced himself to focus on that notion. It was neither a light in the dark nor a thread to guide him home, and yet it may as well have been both.
As if summoned by his considerations, a weight encircled his wrist. It was as soft as silk, but when Merlin glanced down, he could see a bold ribbon of magic looping easily against his skin. It fluttered in an invisible breeze, always moving, but it struck a line, clear and true, back the way he had come.
Arthur. He did not even have to think of him to sense his strength. It resonated through his bones, calling to him. Devotion gleamed along the bond's length, gilded by desire and embellished by the soft touch of affection – all of it on display. Merlin hesitated, his breath catching in his throat as he looked and looked again, sure he was mistaken but unable to deny everything he could feel.
Arthur loved him, and he had never said a word.
'Prat.' He shook his head in disbelief as a wild grin curved his lips. All this time he had been worried that he was alone in his feelings. Every day he had been fighting them, only to discover that Arthur felt the same. Why had he not mentioned it? Why had he held his silence?
Merlin blew out a breath, something bright and fierce soaring in his chest. He could stand here guessing, worrying and fretting, or he could fight his way home and have his answers.
The first step was the hardest, as if the realm itself tried to bind him in place, but even once he began moving there was plenty to make him hesitate. He heard things, words and laughter, like someone waiting for him in the next room: his father's low, confident tones; Will's filthy guffaw. More than once he turned towards them, his feet already shifting to walk him into the veils. Common sense prevailed, barely. If he went looking for his dead, he doubted he would find his way back to the land of the living. Instead, he persevered, following the broad line of light ever onwards.
His lashes fluttered, and when he opened his eyes, it was to see Arthur right there. His brow was still pressed to Merlin's, just as it had been when he had stepped out of the world. All around them, the glow of magic blazed, not merely gold but crimson and green, blue and white: Merlin's power in all its forms.
And there, curled over their clasped hands, was that same, thick golden rope, substantial but weightless.
It was like seeing a new reality: one that had been there all along, just out of sight. He had never known how Arthur was so intrinsically connected him, not by destiny but by the friendship they had built over the years and the promise of more.
This was not something his magic had thrust upon them. It did not feel alien or out of place. It was more like a realisation – an epiphany – an abrupt moment of understanding where life slid into sharper focus. Nor, he realised, was it freshly forged. It carried with it a sense of permanence: an acorn grown at last into a towering oak, ready to withstand any storm.
'Merlin?'
There were words there, caught up in his head: things that needed to be said, and yet he could not find the voice for them. It felt like anything he could utter would only ruin the moment or cloud the issue. It would give them both a chance to retreat, and that had happened far too often over this past year.
Instead, he tightened his hands around Arthur's fingers before tilting his head to press a soft, clinging kiss to those warm lips.
The magic pulsed, but Merlin paid it no mind. His thoughts were too full of Arthur, the scent of his skin and the taste of his mouth – the way his body trembled before surging closer, as if the tight reins of his restraint had fallen away. The quiet, reedy moan that caught in Arthur's throat – shocked and hungry – was music to his ears, and he smiled into the kiss before nipping at Arthur's pout.
Warm hands shifted, slipping free of Merlin's grip to skim up his arms, those strong muscles flexing as Arthur pulled him close. He banished the last of the distance between them until they were pressed together: thighs and hips, belly and chest, caught in the circle of each other's embrace as if anything less was sacrilege.
Dimly, Merlin was aware of Aglain and the knights outside the door making their departure. He did not know what the druid had told Leon and Gwaine to encourage them to leave, and right now, he could not bring himself to care. All his focus was on Arthur: the heat of his body and the hunger of his mouth, the desperate clutch of his hands and the scatter of his breathing. It could have felt dreamlike, but there was no hint of fantasy about this. Arthur was real and vivid and his.
They kissed until their lips were bruised and their bodies hot. Arthur's palms were under his tunic, clutching at his waist and stroking the small of his back. Merlin had no recollection of his belt coming off: it was all lost to a haze of want. The laces of Arthur's collar had vanished. The linen gaped wide upon his shoulders, revealing a dusting of golden hair and pink nipples half-hidden in the folds of fabric.
Even when Arthur tipped his head back, Merlin couldn't reclaim any distance. Instead, he trailed his lips across that stubbled jaw and down into the humid hollow beneath, where his pulse flickered madly. He lapped at the beat of life there before scraping oh-so-lightly with his teeth, just to hear the broken sound of Arthur's moan.
'Merlin, w–wait...'
He paused, his breath puffing over Arthur's damp skin as he tried to rein in his desire. All he wanted was to bury himself in Arthur's body. It was not like back in the summer, where he had been half-lost, longing to claim him, jealous and needy.
Now, that was just another facet of him, something under his control. His senses had sharpened, the more subtle parts of his draconic heritage coming once more to the fore. Every single one of them brimmed with Arthur, the scent and flavour of him, but if Arthur said wait, then he would obey.
'What is it?' He didn't know his voice could sound like that, a growling sort of purr. The effect on Arthur was obvious. He sucked in a breath, his hands tightening on Merlin's body, not pushing him away but drawing him closer as if he could not bear to be apart. The scent of him thickened, intoxicating, yet beneath the glitter in that blue gaze there was a shadow of uncertainty: a fear that he clearly longed to put aside but could not leave unspoken. 'Arthur, what's wrong?'
His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, and Merlin could not help but admire how debauched he looked. His hair was a riot, startled into disarray by Merlin's fingers. Warm skin carried a pink flush across his collar bones. He could feel Arthur's cock, hot and heavy, pressed to his own, separated only by a few inconvenient layers of fabric. He wanted to bend his head and taste Arthur's desire everywhere that it made itself known. Instead, he held himself on a tight leash, waiting for the moment when Arthur found his voice.
'This – it's not just the magic, is it? Making you...?'
Arthur blinked up at him, breathless. For once, there was no royal mask to hide his uncertainty from view. All his fears were right there on display, and Merlin rushed to reassure him.
'No. Nothing is "making" me do anything. It never was.' A glimmer of realisation darted over his mind, 'Is that why you didn't speak of what happened in the summer? You thought it was my magic, rather than me?'
The colour in Arthur's face darkened, a touch of embarrassment adding to its hue. 'You never said anything either!'
'I thought you were trying to forget about it! I thought –' His next words were muffled by Arthur's lips and tongue, hungry and demanding. He let himself be spilled to the mattress, Arthur's weight over him striking sparks through his bones. Strong thighs straddled his hips, and Merlin gripped tight, grinding upwards for the pleasure of hearing Arthur break back with a desperate curse.
'I want this,' Merlin promised. 'Me. Not my magic. I have for ages. Years, probably. Since you were an aggravating prattish prince and I was just your manservant.'
'And what exactly is it that you want?' Arthur breathed, his pupils blown huge and his chest heaving. His hand splayed over Merlin's racing heart as he moved in a tortuous little rhythm, rocking his hips in a subtle tease that threatened to scatter Merlin's thoughts to dust. 'Just one time? A quick tumble and then we return to what we were?' Arthur's jaw shifted, and Merlin didn't miss the way his brow twisted, hinting at something desperate.
It was tempting to agree to anything. His body screamed at him, desperate for the feel of Arthur's skin and heat, slaked need and the sharp slice of release, but his heart carried a different cry. He couldn't do that: have Arthur once and then retreat.
'No,' he rasped, hoping he wasn't damning them both with his honesty – shaking their friendship to ruins and leaving the fire of their passion cold and dead. 'If that's all you think this is – all it could be...?'
The heat of Arthur's mouth silenced him, but this time it was a kiss that tasted of so much more than desire. It was hope and promise, carried there in the flicker of Arthur's tongue and the shifting pressure of his lips. The last knot of Merlin's uncertainties unravelled. He had not been mistaken in what he had read within the twist of magic that connected them. Arthur loved him, and Merlin's heart sang to the very same tune.
Arthur savoured his mouth like a fine feast, ravishing him with maddening intensity until every last shred of thought had fled. He was reduced to a being of sensation, so wrapped up in Arthur that he barely noticed his breeches sag around his hips, the laces snapped beneath shaking fingers. They vanished over the edge of the bed – beyond the known horizon of Merlin's world.
It was a brilliant, loving, laughing denouement, where bubbles of mirth popped within eager moans. Breathless curses outlined the air as buckles and fastenings got helplessly tangled. Eventually, he lost his patience, and his magic sundered Arthur's remaining clothing at its seams. The look of shocked arousal on Arthur's face made him laugh, but it was soon drowned out by the rising tide of want as he let his hands and mouth wander, worshipping the man who ruled his heart.
Arthur's every breath crashed like waves upon the shore. His warmth was the summer sun, and his heartbeat an echo of that same, great pulse that beat through the earth itself. His kisses trailed a giddy path ever downwards, and Arthur's tremulous moan when he took his length in his mouth went straight to Merlin's cock.
Here he tasted lush and rich, briny at the slit and intoxicating at the crease of his groin. The weight of Arthur's hand upon his head urged him on. Merlin lost himself to finding out what Arthur liked, reading every little twitch and moan, the way he spread his thighs in invitation and fought not to arch his hips and thrust.
His hands scrabbled at Merlin's shoulders and curved over the nape of his neck. Those fingers tightened as Merlin cupped his balls, caressing the soft, delicate skin before slipping further back. He hesitated, trying to pick out any hint of uncertainty in Arthur's demeanour, but there was nothing. Arthur opened to him readily, shifting away only to scrabble for something in the drawer at his bedside.
'Please,' he rasped, sounding wrecked as he pressed a vial of oil into Merlin's hand. His meaning was obvious. Merlin had to pull off, resting his brow against Arthur's thigh as he tried to steady himself. Desire snapped along his nerves and simmered in his veins. He felt as if he was coming apart at the seams, desperate with want. The vague notion of taking it slow shimmered at the back of his mind, but it dissipated beneath the hunger in Arthur's gaze.
'I might not last long,' he warned, rolling his eyes when Arthur smirked and preened. Not that he looked much better, flushed and panting as if he had raced across the citadel, his body as taut as a bowstring.
'Then we'll just have to do it again, won't we?' he breathed, throwing his head back as Merlin slid slick fingers between his legs and set to the steady, delicious task of taking him apart.
He had never dared to imagine what Arthur might be like in bed. Not beyond the hasty, hazy fantasies when he got himself off. The bossy shove of his heel against Merlin's back was no surprise. What thrilled him to the core was how honest Arthur was, unashamed in his desire. He did not play coy games. They met between the sheets as equals, with no goal in mind but each other's pleasure.
When it came to getting him ready, at least, he did so with care. He did not know how experienced he was – in truth Arthur had always been shockingly discreet about any lovers – and, right now, he did not want to think about who else might have shared Arthur's bed. All that mattered was the broken moans that ghosted through the air and the way Arthur curled a fist against his lips when Merlin found that sweet spot within him, his teeth sinking into his knuckles to stifle a cry of pleasure.
Merlin felt dizzy with desire, smug and satisfied to have Arthur so needy beneath him. Yet he should have known it wouldn't be long before Arthur took matters into his own hands, tormented almost to breaking point by the lap and suck of his mouth.
'Move,' he commanded, shoving at Merlin's shoulder, nudging and bullying him until he was sprawled on his back. His neglected cock throbbed against his belly, jerking in Arthur's hand as he straddled Merlin's hips once more.
'All right?' he asked, raising one eyebrow in question, as if he expected Merlin to manage anything coherent. His wits were gone, little more than dust and starlight. All he could think about was Arthur over him, his strength around him and the wicked, joyful gleam that sparked brighter in those blue eyes when Merlin bit his lip and nodded his head against the pillows.
It was exquisite. Tight, intimate heat and Arthur's shivering gasp. His spine arched and his cock bobbed as he settled fully, giving himself a moment to adjust as Merlin was sheathed deep. His fingers dug into those hips, painting bruises as he hung on for dear life. His thighs shook with the effort not to shift until Arthur was ready.
He did not have long to wait. Hesitance soon gave way to eagerness as they built their rhythm. Merlin propped himself up on his elbow, straining up as Arthur bent to meet him, sharing messy, breathless kisses and strangled moans as the angle shifted. Steadily, he thrust up, feeling Arthur's whole body jolt in shock as he skimmed over something good. His quiet little cry of pleasure was a blessing, and Merlin grinned as he repeated the motion, revelling in the delicious clench of Arthur's muscles as all faint attempts at artfulness fell away.
There was just him, Arthur, and the skein of ecstasy coiling ever tighter towards its breaking point.
Merlin lost his grip first, release catching him by surprise as it burst upon him. Three quick, jagged thrusts had him spilling deep, gasping fractured curses as Arthur tightened. His cock was in his fist, pumping fast and ragged, his eyes shut and his lips parted until he spilled over Merlin's stomach and chest, hot and messy and brilliant.
'Gods!' he managed at last, blinking down at Merlin before pressing their brows together, his body an awkward bend from where they were still joined. 'That was –'
Merlin hummed. Words were beyond him, lost in the blanked-out bliss of sated pleasure, but he dredged up a few sparse syllables. 'You all right?'
Arthur let out a shaking breath, ducking his head in a quick nod. His kiss was soft and lingering, tempting and comforting all at once. To Merlin, it tasted like a promise, and he smiled against Arthur's lips, relishing the new frontier in which they had found themselves.
He winced as Arthur pulled off, huffing out a weak laugh when he collapsed on top of him, indifferent to the sticky mess. Yet he couldn't bring himself to complain. It felt good to lie there with him in a nest of love-wrecked sheets, sharing breath and space. He nuzzled at Arthur's temple, smirking against his skin as Arthur gave a sleepy murmur: all warmth and contentment.
Outside, the winter sun shone its light upon Camelot. The castle continued about its business, but there, in the sanctuary of Merlin's bedchamber, there was only the pair of them: content in each other's arms. Two men not bound by destiny or prophecy, but by the love they had for each other, finally acknowledged.
'You have some explaining to do.'
Merlin's words were rough and lazy, curling in Arthur's ear. Outside, night had drawn across the sky, the brief day surrendering to frost-cracked darkness. A moon, three days off full, shone through the window, adding a silver glow to the flames Merlin had summoned to the candlewicks.
They lay in each other's arms, tucked safe and warm within the bower of Merlin's bed. They had dozed through the remains of the day, waking only to reach for each other once more. Now, in the aftermath, Arthur felt loose-limbed and content, happy to stay right where he was and let someone else deal with the demands of his kingdom.
It was a brief respite, he knew that. They would have to emerge somewhen, but currently, he had no desire to do so.
'About this?' Arthur wrapped his fingers around Merlin's wrist where the tether between them made its home. It did not matter that it had slipped out of sight, dimming from view along with the beautiful array of Merlin's magic. He could still sense its presence like a cornerstone of his existence. 'I meant to tell you – to show you. Aglain seemed to think you needed to hear it from me, but...' He shrugged, nestling deeper into his pillow and shifting his fingertips to wander idly over Merlin's chest, tracing the edge of the starburst scar that marked its centre.
'You said you were waiting for the right moment?'
He valiantly ignored the faint flush that heated his cheeks. 'When Aglain helped me see, there was more to it than a ribbon of light. I could sense how you felt for me. I realised everything I longed for was within my reach.'
'And you didn't just tell me?'
Merlin raised his eyebrow, looking askance in Arthur's direction. It was enough to make him squirm where he lay, feeling foolish for his sentiments.
'I wanted to ask if I could court you,' he admitted at last, focussing on Merlin's chest so he did not have to meet his eyes. 'Properly, open and acknowledged. Not some tryst or something hidden away. I was … attempting to work up the courage to speak of it.'
The blade of Merlin's hand against his jaw guided his chin upwards so that he had no choice but to look into his face. For once, there was no teasing light in those eyes, only a soft gleam that made Arthur feel as if he were the king of the entire world, rather than just one realm.
'You were scared I would say no?' The disbelief in his voice was unmissable, and Arthur wrinkled his nose.
'You're not exactly easy to read!' he protested. 'Not when it comes to this. Even when the magic showed me how you felt, I couldn't take that for granted. I wanted to get it right.'
Merlin's smile dimpled his cheeks. Gentle kisses punctuated his next words, as soft as a confession. 'I adore you, you prat. My magic's been a mess, this past year, but you have always been there. You never faltered. Not even when my power was half-wild.'
The look on his face was one of almost heartbroken relief, as if he were sorry for carrying the doubts that had plagued him. A life of secrecy left scars, unseen but still present. They were marks Merlin would probably carry for the rest of his days, but Arthur was happy to help him with their burden.
'It's beautiful. It always has been, even before what happened with the Tir Na Lei.' He reached up, easing aside a curl that tumbled across Merlin's brow before shifting to press a kiss to the bridge of his nose. 'Now?'
He thought of what he had seen, not just at the feast where Aglain had tilted reality to a new and dazzling light, but when Merlin had returned to his side after helping the Nichtghest. In that moment, his power had filled the room, neither pointed nor threatening. It had simply been a presence. Novice he may be, but even Arthur could read the meaning in the blended colours that made themselves known.
'It's over, isn't it?' He smirked when Merlin raised an eyebrow, trying not to preen beneath his obvious approval at the insight. 'Whatever started in that stone circle has come to an end?'
'Yeah. Yeah, it has.' Merlin stretched out his right hand towards the canopy above their head, and Arthur admired the magic that glimmered around his fingertips: the lick of flame and creeping vines, ferns of frost and flowers unfurling from their buds. All of that and more lay within Merlin's grasp, not neatly divided to be used or put aside throughout the year, but additional facets to his abilities that he could reach for at will.
What had happened at the Tir Na Lei was the first step on a journey, and now, at last, they had reached its end.
'How does it feel?' Arthur murmured. As king, he had power over the lives of his people and the limits of his land, but even so, he could not imagine what it might be like to hold so much sway over the world itself. He would not trust that ability in anyone else's grasp, but he knew Merlin. From the very start, he had not faltered in his certainty that he would use it well, and he had been proven correct.
'Right,' Merlin replied at last. 'As if it was something that was always meant to happen, but without you...' He shook his head. 'I can feel it: how dangerous it could be. How tempting. It would be easy to get lost in it and never return.'
'A fate that befalls many who find themselves in a position of power. My father, for one.' Arthur pressed a kiss to the hub of Merlin's shoulder, tightening his arm over his waist. They lay in a tangled sprawl, and there was comfort to be found in the simplicity of skin-on-skin. 'It's not just magic that corrupts, but I have you, and you have me: we ground each other. To hear Aglain speak of it, that's how it has always been, from long before we ever even met.' He sighed. 'I don't believe in destiny. It seems like an easy way out. Our choices are our own, and our decisions have led us here, but I can't exactly deny what's right in front of us.'
Merlin reached for his hand, his fingers drifting over his skin before curving around his wrist, his thumb resting against the vulnerable beat of his pulse. 'People have been talking to me of prophecy since I arrived in Camelot. In the end, I think you have to decide what to make of it. It's a foundation. What we build on it is up to us.' He lifted Arthur's hand, brushing his lips against his knuckles. 'And I choose this, if you're certain it's what you want?'
He had never been so sure of anything. It blazed within him, a flame that would never go out. Arthur let his kiss be his reply, draping himself over Merlin's body and relishing in their closeness. It was as if every last boundary had fallen away and the veils of their secrets had finally been shed.
A bright future blossomed before them, one where Merlin had grown at last to meet his full potential, accepting the power that was rightfully his. He would never use it in anger, Arthur knew that like he knew his own name. Instead, he would reign at Arthur's side, loving and loved in turn.
This was their kingdom: the magic and the mundane, the water and the wilds.
And they would rule it together through a glorious golden age.