#struggle?

He’d stopped, from the sounds of his boots scuffing the dirt and leaves. Merlin swallowed hard, still staring at the sigil.

“Why did you give this to me?” he asked, voice carrying into the flames.

This time, Arthur was the one who went quiet.

After his whole speech, and for all his talk about taking the noble path with his own sacrifice—Arthur couldn’t say a single word about the one decision that would change the course of both their lives. Of the kingdom.

Merlin had proven his devotion to Arthur since the day they’d met, as much as the prat hadn’t deserved it then. And Arthur wasn’t the same selfish, hard-headed prince that he’d been, but old habits didn’t disappear overnight.

They were both stubborn.

But Merlin hadn’t put his heart into Arthur’s hand.

There was a soft clink of Arthur’s armor as he shifted, and he answered, “Because you’re a good friend.”

He turned away from the fire toward Arthur, mouth set into a thin line, jaw tightened.

“And the truth?”

Arthur crossed his arms over his chest and lowered his chin to avoid Merlin’s gaze.

“Arthur.”

“Because, of anyone, you should have it,” Arthur snapped, eyes blazing as they reflected the firelight at Merlin. His glanced at the sigil, voice quieting. “I want you to take it. Please.”

Merlin tightened his hand around the circular sigil. “And if we live, after this?”

After a monster that was more likely to kill them both by the morning.

“The question will still stand,” Arthur said. Resolute. No room for maneuvering.

Merlin was adept at making room.

“What question?” he asked slyly, rising to his feet. “You haven’t asked me anything.”

The sigil had been the question, they both knew that. But where nobles spoke in metaphoric gestures and symbolic courting, Merlin had still been a commoner longer than a manservant. And if Arthur wanted him, they’d have to meet somewhere in the middle.

“Merlin,” Arthur sighed, biting his lip as Merlin strode toward him.

He stopped when Arthur’s breath caught, a hairsbreadth between them. He raised the sigil in his hand, holding it between them.

Arthur glanced at it, and then to Merlin. He leaned forward, almost as though he might…well. But he didn’t. He waited.