#tavernfest

She was sitting by the fire in the chambers she had once shared with her husband. The flames sputtered in the grate, attacked by the late autumn winds. Upon the hearth there were food offerings; it was Samhain, the eve of the night the dead woke from their sleep and roamed the Earth once again.

“Merlin,” Gwen called to him softly, her eyes shining and a little cloudy in the light, evidence of the cataracts laying claim to them. She stretched out her hand and he hobbled over with his staff and took it. It was soft, wrinkled, but strong. 

Gwen had received him earlier in the throne room but this, with the night blackening the windows, was when they could truly speak. 

He sat down groaningly beside her. Immediately, she leaned towards him in her chair and poked his knee. “I heard a rumour.” 

He leaned as well. “A rumour?” he croaked. 

“I’m told that you're not as you appear to be. That you…” she seemed to search for the words. “They say nature has not taken hold of you as it has me.” 

He opened his mouth but she stopped him.

“Let me see you as you really are... Please.” 

He changed, letting go of the glamour he had assumed. 

By the way she reached out, he knew she couldn’t help it. She cupped his unbearded face, swiped a thumb over his cheek like there was a tear there just as her own eyes filled. 

“It’s like…” she trailed off in wonder. 

“Seeing a ghost?” he guessed. 

“No,” she shook her head, retracting her hand. “No. I should know… I called you here because-” 

There was a knock at the door. 

She cleared her throat, emotion leaving her voice. “Come in.” 

A knight entered.

“Is it time?” she asked.

“Almost.” 

“Help an old woman up, Merlin?” 

They were on the ramparts of the outer walls, it had been a struggle to get up here, but Gwen, now bundled in Merlin’s cloak, had been singularly determined.

It was a full moon but the night was choked with mist. 

Merlin’s magic prickled, beyond the walls something had stepped back onto the mortal plane. 

He tried again to implore her to return to the palace. “Gwen, it's Samhain, we shouldn’t-” 

“Just… Watch.” 

He grimaced but did as his queen bid. 

A horse whinnied faintly, like the tail end of an echo. From the mist, three caped figures on horseback were given form. Ceremonial Camelot banners, washed grey by the night, waved silently in a non-existent wind above them. Their shape, their faces, tilted up, serene, their eyes on the queen – Merlin startled. “It’s-!”

“Gwaine… Lancelot… and Elyan,” she finished, her voice breaking more with each name. 

“But..? Gods, why-?”

“They came last year, and the year before that,” she said, breathing. She drew her borrowed cloak closer. “I know now. They're waiting for me.” 

Merlin stays very far away from any superheroing. Let all the others save the damsels in distress and all that rot, he’s just fine and dandy being ordinary Merlin, who uses magic in secret to make his life easier.

-

Shite, fuck, bollocks, bloody fucking hell, Merlin thinks, realizing what he just did. He stopped time. Again.

In his defense he didn’t really mean to do it.

It was instinct, all right? You see someone in danger, you save them. Right? Even if the person you’re saving is the annoying posh prat who you have classes with. Even if you know you should be careful, keep everything secret. Lucky for him he’s wearing a hoodie, so his face is somewhat hidden. With a nudge of his magic it’s easy to pull the shadows towards his face, concealing it even further.

Arthur’s on the ground behind him, shocked, hurt and bleeding. It’s not like Arthur can’t defend himself either, his father’s made sure he knows how to fight properly to a very high degree - at least that’s what Merlin’s heard...multiple times. But fighting against a puny villain is nothing compared to fighting an actual superpowered person that knows what they’re doing.

It’s no wonder that he in fact, did not manage to fight back or even run away.

He’d feel sorry for him if Arthur wasn’t such a big arsehole; he does pity him though. No one should feel so powerless and terrified, no matter how dickish they might be.

Taking a deep breath, Merlin considers his options. Surprisingly enough, he’s never actually murdered someone, and even if it’s to save someone else that doesn’t sound like a very attractive solution. Could banish them to another realm, although that’d take some serious energy. Decision made, he doesn’t even bother to start time back up. Merlin spells the person to sleep, deciding to leave this particular problem to someone else. Someone who isn’t him. He just can’t be bothered, there’s plenty on his plate already.

Sound bursts to life, as cars zoom by the street, as people go about their day, as animals do what they must, and so on and on and on. Cities are noisy, who knew.

“Who are you?” the question startles him, apparently having forgotten about Arthur completely.

He takes a moment to be sure his features are obscured before he turns around. Arthur is still on the floor, hands trembling, when Merlin answers him, “No one.”

Oh, shite, his voice.

Right.

Doesn’t take much to tweak his vocal cords a bit, so it’s harder to recognize his voice.

“You just saved my life. And you are very obviously a powerful sorcerer. So, who are you?”

“Me? Powerful? You must’ve seen wrong, mate. Anyway I need to go and- do...stuff. Will you be ok?”

Scoffing, Arthur finally gets up, dusting his clothes and straightening them out - as if putting back together his persona, piece by broken piece. “I’m completely fine. But-”

“Great. Goodbye then.” Merlin says, practically running away from the scene, like a thief in the night instead of a...hero, he supposes. Merlin the hero? No. That’s awful.

He does not look back at Arthur.

-

Arthur has a crush.

A very ridiculous, impossible crush.

He doesn’t know the man’s face, is quite certain the voice he heard isn’t his real voice, and knows almost nothing about him. Not his name, not his personality, nothing, except that the man’s first instinct was to jump into a skirmish and save Arthur’s arse. And quite possibly his life (most definitely his life).

Feeling awestruck is not enough to explain how he feels, and love is far too much, so yes, he has a crush. It’s silly, he knows; it’s not like he’ll ever see him again. These feelings will go nowhere, but still, they persist.

Arthur’s been avoiding walking alone (his father wanted to hire bodyguards, this was their compromise), hasn’t gone anywhere near the place he got attacked at, and things eventually get back to normal. So much so that he ends up forgetting it ever happened, feeling safe in his own skin once again.

It’s not exactly a surprise when someone pushes him out of the way of a speeding truck, no it’s more like completely unexpected and fucking crazy. His stomach twists with the idea that the man who saved him is back, instead of being worried about almost dying...again. But when his head clears from the fog, the person he’s looking at is Merlin. His cute but holier-than-thou, idiotic and clumsy classmate.

The day is filled with surprises, it seems.

Merlin’s body against his feels solid, far more muscled than Arthur has ever noticed - probably because Merlin’s always wearing his ridiculous hoodies. And his eyes, from this close, are the prettiest blue he’s ever seen. Those lips though, completely sinful and very biteable.

“You ok?” Merlin asks, far too smug for Arthur’s taste.

“I’d be better if you got off me,” he’ll just pretend he wasn’t absolutely enjoying Merlin’s weight on him, far too much really. A weird and unhealthy amount. Not that he’d give him the satisfaction of saying it outloud.

Rolling his eyes, Merlin gets up, kind enough to pull Arthur up with him, “No need to be a prat about it. Could’ve thanked me for saving your life, no?”

“What did you just call me?”

“You seriously need to be more careful, you’re not a damsel in distress you know?” Merlin says, completely ignoring Arthur’s question quite rudely. It takes him a second to process what Merlin said though, but when he does-

“How did you know I was attacked?”

No.

Arthur refuses.

Merlin cannot be the man who saved him. He’s an idiot.

“I-uh, heard your friends talking about it. Obviously.”

“Right, that makes sense,” not really, it’s not like he went around advertising how he got his arse handed to him, almost died and had to be saved by a random, probably handsome, stranger.

It still can’t be Merlin though.

“Will you be ok?”

Well shite. Same exact question? Nothing but coincidence, obviously.

“Do use your eyes Merlin, I’m fine. Not a scratch on me.”

Merlin looks at him intensely, from his feet to his face, almost as if he’s appreciating the view, “Yeah, you look better than fine,” and if Arthur didn’t know better, it’d sound like Merlin is flirting with him. Which is ridiculous.

“I have to get going, please do be more careful from now on. Wouldn’t want you to hurt your pretty head would we?”

Ok, that’s definitely flirting. Before Arthur can even say goodbye, or retort, or anything, Merlin is already far away. Out of his reach.

What a weird day.

-

It becomes an occurrence.

The saving Arthur’s life thing, not the flirting thing - but also totally the flirting thing. Merlin doesn’t mean to do any of it really, his body just moves before he can think, and his mouth is a traitor to his brain honestly.

It’s a mix of Merlin saving him as, well, his hero self? The man with the shadow face? There isn’t a name he can give that version of himself, he tries not to spend too much time obsessing over what he’s doing. If his mother knew...Oh well, too late to change things now. And of him saving Arthur as regular old Merlin. Only in situations where his magic can be used judiciously.

Their relationship has grown, somehow. Where one goes, the other follows; it’s bloody weird - Merlin sort of loves it.

Arthur is- well, he’s a prat, but he’s also beautiful, and brave, and kind when he really wants to be. He’s changed a bit. Maybe that’s what happens when you nearly die multiple times, Merlin has no idea, whatever it is has made Arthur a thousand times more attractive.

They have become inseparable, and the lying has started to weigh on Merlin. How can he keep acting like he’s two completely different people around Arthur, when all he wants is to push him against a wall and kiss him until he forgets his own name?

To hold him, to love him, to keep him safe from the world so nothing bad ever happens to him? Because bad shit keeps happening to him, and frankly Merlin’s tired of it.

It’s quiet moments like these, them sitting next to each other, thighs touching, laughter in their voices, that make Merlin tremble with want. But if he can’t give himself completely to Arthur, it wouldn’t be fair to either of them.

God, he loves the prat doesn’t he?

-

It’s fairly obvious that Merlin is his personal hero. Arthur might be slow at times, sure, he isn’t daft though, and Merlin is always there. That, and the hoodies he wears when he’s concealing his face, are the same he wears in his day to day life. As much as Arthur calls him an idiot, the truth is that Merlin is in fact very clever and wise, until he does something as dumb as just...wearing his normal clothes when he’s out saving people - or saving Arthur really, doesn’t seem like he’s going around rescuing anyone else after all.

How he doesn’t understand that superheroes wear a costume for a reason, is beyond Arthur.

Arthur lets him keep the secret.

The problem is that Arthur’s crush on an absolute stranger that ended up not being a stranger at all, has evolved into love. To be fair, it’s almost impossible not to fall in love with Merlin. Arthur has eyes, he’s seen how everyone looks at Merlin, how everyone is completely besotted with him, falling over themselves to get his attention. It’s sickening, he hates it. He wants to scream loud and clear, he is mine, all mine, but Merlin’s not his quite yet. So he can’t go around yelling like a crazed caveman, treating Merlin like he belongs to him, even if he very much would like to do it.

An epiphany arrives when he’s lying down on Merlin’s bed, looking at the ceiling, bored, as Merlin works on an assignment. “I’ve told you about mystery, hero, shadow man. Right?”

“That’s a mouthful,” Merlin laughs, still focusing on his work, even as Arthur sees his body tense, “but yes, you’ve talked about him. A lot.”

“Yes, but did I tell you I had a crush on him from the first time we met?”

Merlin turns around from his desk so fast he almost falls on the floor, which is fucking adorable, “Uhhhh what? Since when?”

“I just said it. Since the beginning.”

“Right, you did say that.”

Seeing the confusing emotions cycle on Merlin’s face is more than a little hilarious, from the happiness, to the resignation, to hope, to heartbreak - well not as funny anymore.

“Don’t worry, I don’t have a crush on him anymore.”

“You don’t?” Merlin asks breathlessly, “Wait, why would I worry? I’m not worried.”

Holding Merlin’s stare, Arthur takes a moment to appreciate everything that they have before what he does next changes things between them (hopefully for the better), “No, I don’t have a crush. I love him.”

“Arthur…” Merlin starts, looking conflicted.

“Anything you’d like to tell me?”

“Lots of things probably.”

“Will you tell me?” Arthur asks, getting up from the bed and walking towards Merlin. Caressing his face, Arthur kisses his forehead and kneels in front of him, almost as if begging him for the truth.

Merlin looks like an animal caught in a trap, ready to bolt, but something happens. Some sort of realization. He sighs, relaxing his body, taking Arthur’s hand and kissing each knuckle.

“How did you know?”

“You’re not exactly subtle.”

“Ok, fair. How did you know I liked you back then?”

“Again, not very subtle with your onceovers and flirts. I can’t believe you haven’t jumped me yet, with the way you’ve been looking at me lately.”

“I couldn’t make a move while I was still keeping something from you.”

“Maybe, but now I know,” he points out, completely delighted by the future ahead of them.

“Oh,” at the realization of what Arthur means, Merlin scrambles onto the floor with Arthur, pushing him down (and damn, if it doesn’t make him remember the second time Merlin saved him) and kissing him far more softly than he expected.

Like he’s something fragile.

Fuck that.

Flipping them around, Arthur pins Merlin down. Can see Merlin’s pupils dilate, swallowing dry, obviously enjoying the switch. It feels like home, like he’s always belonged right here, with Merlin arching up into his touch.

He knows they’ll need to talk everything out later, but right now all he wants is Merlin in his arms. To finally get to know him in and out, to love and to hold.

Merlin is magic, of that Arthur has no doubts. In everything he does, in everything he is.

Has saved Arthur’s life from more than magical attacks, and death threats. He’s saved him from living a miserable, lonely life. From living without the love of his life, without magic.

He kisses him once, twice, twenty times, countless times, “I love you.”

-