Chapter Text
A loud chirruping sound bursts through the thickness of sleep and Merlin groans. He lifts his head from the pillows and takes in the hazy grey dawn light, groans again, and glares at Aithusa perched on the edge of the bed, eyeing him hopefully.
“You’re not meant to get fed for another few hours at least.” Merlin reminds her sharply.
Undeterred, Aithusa chirrups again, louder, and flaps her wings in Merlin’s face. Merlin bats her away with an irritated grunt of his own and rolls over to tell Arthur it’s his turn to deal with the beast. His hand lands on the empty space next to him a moment before the rest of him catches up and he realizes Arthur isn’t there. Hasn’t been for some time if the sheets are cool like this.
Merlin props himself up on his elbows and looks around their chambers. He finds Arthur in his brooding spot. He is silhouetted against the window, looking washed out in the silvery light trickling in from outside. At some point he bothered to drag on a tunic, and he stands with his arms crossed, right hand pressed against his chin, ring resting against his lips. Whatever it is, he’s contemplating it thoroughly. Merlin has lost track of how many times he has seen Arthur like this over the years, but it never fails to make him worry.
“Arthur?” he calls out.
Arthur blinks like his mind is coming back from far away, and unfolds himself so he can turn to face Merlin, “I didn’t wake you did I?”
Merlin shake his head, “Aithusa was asking for an early breakfast.”
Aithusa takes that opportunity to squawk and zip over to land on Arthur’s shoulders. Her talons dig sharply into his shoulder and he grimaces in response and says, “You’re starting to get to big to do that.”
She isn’t old enough to replicate human languages yet, but she is old enough to understand them and Merlin suspects she digs her talons in a little harder than necessary when she pushes off. She comes to perch on the top of their bedpost, white scales gleaming and tail thrashing as she struggles to keep her balance. Kilgharrah swears she will grow to be as big as him one day, but Merlin has been resolutely ignoring that, enjoying having his own baby dragon to raise for once. Aithusa drives him mad, but he loves her.
Arthur goes back to staring out the window so Merlin slides out of bed. The stone is chilly against his bare feet and he shivers as he makes his way over to Arthur. He slips his arms around Arthur’s middle and rests his chin on Arthur’s shoulder.
“Are you alright?” he asks softly.
“It’s just the time of year.” Arthur answers.
“The anniversary of your coronation is meant to be celebration, sourpuss.”
“I know.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
Arthur sighs and relaxes enough to place his hands over Merlin’s, “The battle happened so quickly, and everything with Balinor… How do I know you made the right choice?”
“What do you mean if I made the right move?” Merlin asks with a frown.
“You were the one who threatened to coup if I wasn’t given the throne. You were the one who made me king.”
“I helped you get there.” Merlin replies after a moment and presses a kiss to Arthur’s shoulder, “You were the one who proved you were trustworthy, noble, and capable of making change. If you hadn’t worked so hard to be my friend and been so willing to help around the settlement even though you’d never done a chore in your life, if you hadn’t trained our warriors to be better even though you were scared they were your enemy, I wouldn’t have backed your claim. I wouldn’t have let Balinor become High Dragon Lord in Camelot, but I would have backed Will or maybe Freya if she decided she wanted to go through the trials. You made yourself a king in all but name, I just knocked down the last barrier standing in your way, and it was a pretty obnoxious barrier.”
Arthur angles his head so he can smile fondly at Merlin, “Are you ever going to forgive Balinor for going walk about for thirteen years?”
“No.”
“God help me, I married someone more stubborn than I am.”
“Take that back!” Merlin exclaims with false anger.
“Afraid I can’t take back what’s true.”
Merlin smiles and settles his head back on Arthur’s shoulder. They both stare at the window, watching the sun rise over the citadel. Merlin has never been a morning person, but f every morning could be started this way he may not complain quite so much. Having Arthur in his arms is like nothing else in the world, there are days he would give up flying on Kilgharrah’s back just to hold Arthur in his arms for five more minutes.
“Do you still stand by your support?” Arthur asks after a time.
“Always.”
“Even if I was a tyrant who started burning down villages?”
“If you started burning down villages then you would obviously be possessed, and I would do everything in my power to break of the enchantment.”
“Merlin.”
“You’re a good king, Arthur. I know you didn’t take the throne under the best of circumstances, but Camelot has never been safer or happier. Your people are fed, we are at peace on all borders, magic and dragons are free to roam once again. They even have representation in your council, and you and Will still haven’t killed each other all these years later.”
“You compared us to fishwives at the last council meeting.”
“The two of you bicker more than you and I do, and we’re actually married.” Merlin points out and snuggles back in, “This is best Camelot has been since Freya’s Great Great Great Uncle was High Dragon Lord.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Arthur sighs, but the worried pinch doesn’t leave his brow.
“It’s good to worry. It means that you are willing to listen to what your people need.”
“And I have you to remind me if I ever don’t.”
Merlin grins and squeezes Arthur tight like a child’s toy for a moment before releasing, “I will be your constant annoyance for eternity.”
“Really? Even in the next life?”
“Yes.”
Arthur smiles and presses a kiss to Merlin’s jaw, “I suppose I could tolerate that. Come on, we better open the window before Aithusa decides my boots are food again.”
Merlin unwinds his arms from Arthur’s waist just long enough for him to unlatch the window, and then drapes himself along Arthur’s back as the cool morning air washes over them. Aithusa lets out a noise halfway between a squeak and a caw, and launches herself outside. She is met over the walls of the citadel by the other dragons circling overhead.