Arthur, Crown Prince of Wales, closed the door of his bedroom behind him and promptly collapsed against it. "I refuse to be king."

Merlin was, as usual, lounging on the bed and reading a book, a pair of earphones on. Merlin didn't like earbuds—said they made his ears hurt—so he wore the huge earphones that covered an entire side of his face. Arthur peeked at the cover of the book. It seemed to be something about physics. "I don't think your father would like that much," Merlin said, turning a page idly. "He's already looking for an excuse to throw me out, I think your abdication would be the last straw."

"Can't you just take us to a tropical island in the middle of nowhere?"

"No running water, no shelter, no food service…"

"You could magic something up."

"See, this is why I didn't tell you about my magic. You'd have abused it shamefully."

Arthur flopped onto the bed and draped an arm over Merlin's waist, drawing him in and nosing at the back of Merlin's neck. Just touching Merlin was enough to ease the tension out of Arthur's body, making him feel relaxed and pliant. Merlin sank back into him, letting Arthur manhandle him into the most comfortable position.

"Missed you," Arthur murmured. He tried reading Merlin's book over his shoulder, realized he didn't understand half the words, and gave up. "Politics have only gotten worse since Camelot and now you're not there to make faces at me."

"The Versailles Treaty was nearly enough to kill me. I'd keel over if you made me sit in on those talks with you."

It had taken a bit of negotiating to get to where they were now. They'd been so wrapped up in each other, so overwhelmed with joy and loss, that they'd completely forgotten an outside world even existed.

They'd been reminded of it about ten rounds of sex later, when someone was sent to find out why Arthur was several hours late to his own birthday party.

After that there had been several painful discussions with the king, several changes to protocol, and Merlin was moved into Arthur's section of Buckingham (or Windsor or wherever Arthur was currently staying). Between the two of them they'd made up a plausible story about Arthur meeting Merlin at a pub one night and having a one night stand that led to something a little more. Merlin had grown up in the south of England, raised by a single mother, and was studying science at university. When asked which field of science he was studying, Merlin simply replied, "All of them."

Arthur could believe it, too. Merlin had been too smart for his own good back in Camelot, and he'd had hundreds of years to study science and medicine and all the rest.

Overall it had been a bit of a rocky start. They were constantly in the press, everyone from LGBT groups to the Church of England wanted them to make a statement, and they still didn't know what the great danger was that Arthur had been resurrected for, but Arthur wouldn't trade any of it for the world. He had his memories back—and more importantly, he had Merlin.

He didn't know what else he could ask for.

Arthur lay there for a while, dozing, content with simply having Merlin in his arms, when he heard something. He sat up. "Merlin," he asked, trying to keep his tone as neutral as possible. "What are you listening to?"

"Eighties music," Merlin replied noncommittally.

Arthur frowned. "You're listening to eighties power ballads."

"Yes. So?"

"You're listening to You're the Voice."

Merlin smirked and started singing along, happily off-key. "You're the voice, try and understand it. Make a noise and make it clear."

Arthur clapped his hands over his ears. "No you don't!"

Merlin kept singing, trying to pry Arthur's hands off of his ears. This led to a minor scuffle, which ended with Arthur, predictably, fighting off a pillow that had taken on life and was trying to smother him while Merlin blasted You're the Voice through his phone's speakers.

(Merlin, Arthur quickly learned, adored technology and, furthermore, actually understood how all the wires and such went together. He'd taken apart his phone and put it back together three times already.)

"I hate you," Arthur growled, beating the magically animated pillow into submission.

Merlin straddled his hips and grinned down at him. "No, you love me."

Arthur tangled their fingers together, feeling and hearing their rings clink. "My own heart's root," he promised.

They didn't do a lot of talking after that.

And Arthur might—just might—have downloaded You're the Voice onto his phone.