Archive of Our Own ^beta

“I need you to keep him away,” Arthur is mumbling.

Merlin stops, frowning to himself, as he leans in closer to the door to eavesdrop on the conversation inside Arthur’s chambers.

“Won’t he get… suspicious?” Lancelot’s voice emerges, sounding troubled. “You’re rarely apart in the evenings.”

Oh. So, they’re talking about him.

“I know,” Arthur stops, sighing, “just- I need time to think about how I’m going to say it. Just keep him away for a bit, give me some time alone. Take him to the tavern or something. I just need tonight.”

Merlin’s heart falls through the floor, and he feels his breath catch in his throat as tears well in his eyes. Arthur wants to break things off, clearly, to put their blossoming courtship to an end. It was only a matter of time, Merlin thinks woefully, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his tunic and hurrying along the Gaius’ rooms. He hopes his old room is still free because he clearly needs it again now. He can hardly share a bed with his king, knowing he isn’t wanted there.

Gaius looks up as he barges in, a grin half-forming in welcome. He sees something on Merlin’s face which causes it to fall into a frown.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, groaning as he pulls himself to his feet and tottering across to Merlin.

“May I move back into my old chambers?” Merlin mumbles in lieu of a reply. He must look truly atrocious, because Gaius lets him in with a nod and no further questions.

“Tomorrow,” he mumbles to himself as he pulls on his night tunic and slides into the cold and suddenly unfamiliar bed, “I’ll deal with it tomorrow.”

He steels himself for what he knows he has to do, and adamantly refuses to feel the pain tearing him apart from the inside out. Rehearsing the speech for several hours last night while sleep evaded him was not the best activity in the world, but he is now very much prepared for handing in his notice. His bags are packed and waiting in Gaius’ rooms, and he just has one person left to say goodbye to. Swallowing down a sob, Merlin morphs his face into a mask of neutrality and knocks firmly on the door.

“Enter.”

He comes in, closing the door behind him. Arthur looks up, and he smiles softly at Merlin and stands up from his desk. That smile punches the air from Merlin’s lungs, and he falters under the realisation that he would never see Arthur again after today.

“What’s wrong?” Arthur asks, hesitating on his way over to Merlin, eyes wide with concern. Fake concern. Duty. Fake. Fake. Completely fake.

“I- um-” he shudders, a disobedient sob trying to wrack through him, and breathes through his nose before continuing, “I have come to terminate my employment, Sire. I hereby state that I will be leaving my post as your manservant from today and leaving Camelot this evening.”

Arthur staggers back, stricken. He shakes his head gently, as though he hasn’t heard Merlin properly.

“I don’t understand,” he pleads. “What- what’s happened? Did someone find out about you?”

He steps forward, trying to grab Merlin’s hand, to pull him into a reassuring embrace. Merlin flinches back, shaking his head.

“No.”

“If someone did, I- I’m repealing the laws next week anyway, they’ll have no ground to stand on. You’re safe here, Merlin. You’re- you’re safe with me.”

His eyes bore into Merlin’s soul, and Merlin has to drop his gaze to the floor to avoid the whirling emotions chasing across his king’s face.

“No, Arthur, I’m fine. Nobody found out about me.”

“Then why?” Arthur cries, throwing his arms out wide. “What are you doing? Did I- have I done something wrong?”

“No, it’s not-”

“Because I’m trying, Merlin,” Arthur continues, teary-eyed and confused, “I’m legalising magic. I know I still have a lot of making up to do regarding my father’s policies. I know that. Is it something I’ve done to you personally? Because I’m trying to be less of a prat, to- to talk about feelings, and to- I- what-”

He breaks off, his breathing laboured, staring at Merlin with wild eyes. Merlin is confused by the intensity of his reaction, to say the least. Rather dramatic for someone who was planning to break up with him anyway, he thinks, and feels the knot in his stomach churn uncomfortably.

“Arthur,” Merlin sighs, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, “you’ve done nothing wrong. This is just how it has to be. I don’t belong here.”

“What?” Arthur recoils. “Of course you do! You belong here with your friends and- and with me!”

“You don’t want me here anyway!” Merlin snaps, his anger finally boiling to the surface. Arthur could at least break up with him properly, instead of subjecting him to this nonsense charade.

“W-what?”

Merlin doesn’t want to look up, because he knows that if he does, he’ll see- oh, gods. Arthur is crying. His heart shatters when he sees the tears, and the crestfallen expression on his lover’s face.

“You- I heard you yesterday with L-Lancelot,” he sniffles, fighting back tears of his own. “You wanted me to leave you alone, you begged him to keep me away while you worked out how to break up with me.”

Arthur says nothing, staring at Merlin with a horrified expression. That’s all the confirmation Merlin needs, and he flees from the room, leaving his heart behind him in tattered shreds.

He makes it halfway to Ealdor before Arthur catches up with him and begs him to come down from his horse so that they can talk.

“Fine,” he sighs. “You get five minutes.”

He drops down to the ground and wanders over to a nearby boulder while Arthur finishes securing Llamrei. He sits down, drawing his knees up to his chest and hugging them tightly. Maybe if he barricades himself in a cocoon, this conversation won’t hurt as much. Doubtful.

“Merlin,” Arthur mumbles, coming to stand in front of him. He reaches out a hand, but abandons the motion and lets it fall, his face unsure. “You were right, we were talking about you yesterday.”

Merlin lets out a shaky exhale, and frowns at the ground. Why has Arthur followed him just to reaffirm his sorrow?

“But- I- you’re such an idiot. I wasn’t breaking up with you. I would- I could never. Merlin,” he gasps, reaching more determinedly for Merlin’s hand this time, “I love you. I’m in love with you. You’re my world, Merlin. I was- ugh- I wanted this to be romantic and that’s why I was planning for it and why Lancelot was going to help to distract you but then you had to hear that conversation and oh gods, this is so unromantic and we’re in the bloody Valley of the Fallen Kings and nothing good happens here and I’m probably damning the entire thing-”

“Arthur,” Merlin cuts in, squeezing his hand gently. “You’re not making any sense. What are you saying?”

“I was going to propose,” Arthur huffs, “and I needed Lancelot to keep you away so that I could write my proposal speech because it’s so hard, Merlin- I just- I wanted it to be perfect.”

Merlin gasps. Propose? Arthur wants to marry him? His heart tentatively flips in his chest, thrumming with the desire to cling onto this new thread of hope. His brain slowly re-evaluates the entire situation, and he lets his head fall into his hands when he realises what an idiot he is.

“Merlin?” Arthur prods, his voice shaky and uncertain, and Merlin crumbles. He finally bursts into tears, letting all the emotions from the past two days flow out of him. Slowly, cautious arms wrap around him, pulling him into the familiar, comforting warmth of Arthur. Arthur who isn’t breaking up with him. Arthur who was going to propose. Arthur who’s still in love with him, hopefully.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbles, pulling away from the embrace. “I’m such an idiot. You- I can’t believe I jumped to that conclusion. I love you so much, Arthur.”

“It’s okay, Merlin- it’s- it’s okay. I’m an idiot too. I shouldn’t need to write an entire speech just to propose to my lover!” He blushes lightly as he splutters the word ‘lover’, and Merlin has to laugh. Arthur’s face breaks out into a blinding grin, and it’s everything, it’s the sun coming out after a storm, it’s the universe being at peace again.

“I love you too, by the way,” Arthur continues, soft smile still in place, “and if you have no objections, I’d very much like to try to propose?”

His eyes meet Merlin’s, hopeful and hesitant. Merlin nods, feeling rather faint.

“Merlin Emrys,” Arthur begins, his eyes flicking to Merlin’s and then away again repeatedly, “I have been in love with you for as long as I can remember. The reason I wake up with a smile on my face is because I get to see you every morning, and hear your stupid sayings-”

“Prat.” Merlin’s grumbling is silenced with a glare.

“As I was saying, you make every day brighter. You make every council meeting more bearable. Sometimes, I even stay awake during Leon’s speeches!”

Merlin laughs, a hearty laugh which Arthur shares in, and places a gentle kiss to Arthur’s lips.

“Go on, sorry,” he whispers, “I just needed to kiss you.”

“I- um- okay, so,” Arthur stutters, blushing under Merlin’s affection, “I have come to the conclusion that each day would be even better if I were able to have you sit next to me at meetings, and have you dine with me for breakfast. I want to dance with you at feasts. I want the world to know how much I love you, because there isn’t a single second of any day where it doesn’t consume me entirely, and I need them to know. I need to have you by my side always, Merlin.”

Merlin feels the lump in his throat swell with emotion, and he swallows it down, smiling encouragingly at his king. Arthur kneels down onto one knee.

“So, with that being, um- said- Merlin Emrys Hunithson, would you do me the honour of becoming my Royal Consort and husband?”

Merlin stares down at his beautiful lover, at his incredible friend, at his other half, the other side to his coin, and wonders how there could ever be any other answer.

“Yes,” he chokes out, pulling Arthur up into his arms and into a loving kiss.

Pulling back for air, Arthur grins at him, his eyes twinkling with joy. “You’re an absolute buffoon, and I’m so glad you’re going to be mine.”

“Hey!” Merlin squawks. “I can’t believe our marriage is getting abusive already. I suppose it’s to be expected when one agrees to marry a knight. Louts, the lot of you.”

Arthur huffs, affronted. “We are exemplary specimens of chivalry and goodness, I’ll have you know, and I am a king, which makes me even more- uh- chivalrous.”

Rolling his eyes, Merlin leans back in to press gentle kisses along Arthur’s jawline, moving round slowly until he can press one to his lips. They stay where they are for a while, exchanging loving touches, until it gets dark.

“We should be getting back,” Arthur groans.

“Come on then,” Merlin decides, holding a hand out to pull Arthur up, which Arthur takes gratefully. “Let’s go home, my love.”

Arthur closes his eyes, that same soft smile dancing across his lips.

“Say it again,” he whispers.

“My love?”

“No, not that bit.”

“Oh. Let’s go home.”

“Anything for you,” Arthur grins, “my darling husband.”

Apparently, very occasionally, something good does happen in the Valley of the Fallen Kings.